I've finally done it. I think it had something to do with my 38th birthday a couple of weeks ago. Or maybe not. Maybe it is because I'm tired of always being the fat girl at the party/office/game. Or maybe it's because diabetes runs rampant in my Grandmother's family.
Yesterday I went out and bought a scale.
And I started doing some research on how many calories I should be able to eat and loose a pound a week.
And started keeping track of what I'm eating.
So I'm going to put myself out there into the blogosphere with this because in my past experience, if I know I'm going to be held accountable for something, I'm much more likely to keep with it.
This morning I stepped on the scale in my 38 year old birthday suit and there it was. 193.0. Not the heaviest I've ever been, but a good 63 lbs. more than my driver's license says I am. I'm 5'6". I'll be taking measurements tonight so that I can track the loss in inches as well. Can you tell I'm a data freak?
So there it is. Good lord, out there for the world to see. I will take photos along the way (something I wish I had done 6 years ago when I dropped 45 lbs. but then gained it all back). If my ego can take it I'll post them along the way.
To anyone who is in harm's way, is getting out of harm's way, or knows anyone in harm's way (I'm talking hurricane here), my thoughts and prayers are with you. I can't imagine the emergency you are experiencing.
I have always wanted to visit N'Orlins and God willing I will be able to stroll down Burbon Street someday...but I just don't know that it's possible at this point.
And what of the folks who weren't in a good way to begin with? How many jobs will be lost?
My problems are minute at this moment.
Like there was any doubt. People all over the bloggosphere agree with me. Kinuman has apparently been handing out Asshat awards for a while now. Pat is # 5 on that list. Over at Don't Sweat the Small Stuff, Fabian keeps it short and to the point. And Riba has a great point about the 10 commandments. Great stuff all over the net today, boy. Thanks, Pat.
Sometimes it's just better to let an AssHat's words speak for themselves...
"We have the ability to take him out, and I think the time has come that we exercise that ability," Robertson said. "We don't need another $200 billion war to get rid of one strong-arm dictator. It's a whole lot easier to have some of the covert operatives do the job and then get it over with."
These words of wisdom come from none other than the
incredibly dim-witted downright ignorant Pat Robertson in regards to Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez. I'm not arguing that President Chavez isn't a bad man. You know what I'm arguing. Assassination...really, Pat?
Christians everywhere should be appalled and ashamed that Robertson calls himself a Christian. His judgment day is coming and think that God will be plenty pissed.
I must thank my dear friend, Grace, for the inspiration behind this post. She recently wrote about the season finale of Six Feet Under of which I have never seen. She said that she wept openly for quite a long time during this season finale and I must say, I am now thinking about renting the DVD version and starting at the begining. Why?
Because I'll do anything for a good cry, for chrissake! I've often felt a little odd about this quirky side of me. Why on earth would one WANT to cry? Anyone who has ever had PMS knows that a good cry is a cleansing experience. So there. Also, I consider myself so fortunate not to have very many REAL things to cry about in my life, so I must let those emotions go for fictional reasons.
That being said, I'm going to tell you what makes me cry, and then ask this of you...What makes you cry?
1. The Color Purple (the movie, not the actual color, silly)
2. the song "Against All Odds" (never fails, every time, I don't know why)
4. the last few minutes of "Extreem Makeover, Home Edition" (stop laughing)
5. the movie The Notebook (I hesitate to read the book as I think I would start a flood)
6. Hearing "Here's to my brother, George Bailey, the richest man in town"
7. Thinking long and hard about our brave, wonderful, heroic men and women who are risking their lives to fight for no good reason in Iraq
8. the move The Hours. Ed Harris was brilliant.
9. watching old video of my boys when they were babies.
10. Thinking about what life will be like someday after my grandfather has passed (he is very sick and this could happen any day now)
So that's my list...what gets you going?
I woke up this morning, feeling great for having participated in the Vigil for Cindy Sheehan last night (see the photo, that's me on the left and my aunt-in-law, the lovely Marsha, on the right). We got lots of support via honking motorists and generally felt like we were doing something good for the cause. Really, I've been feeling helpless about the war and not feeling like there is much I can do about it (besides all of the emails and letters I've sent to representatives - but they are all against the war anyway). I at least felt like my voice was being heard here.
But enough about me. I just read the Cindy Sheehan had to leave Camp Cindy today because her 74 year old mother had just had a stroke. My goodness, hasn't this woman been through enough? Sheesh. My heart breaks for her in so many ways. And for all of the other family members of soldiers who don't feel that what we are doing is right.
OK, back to me. So I woke up this morning still thinking about the night before. I turned on my laptop and took a look at my emails and low and behold...someone had done a trackback on my previous post. Wow! Sweet! So I clicked on the link to see who it was and this is what I found. An honest to goodness local TV station linked to me from their website where they keep track of and report on other people's blogs! I couldn't beleive it! My first thought was that Grace would be so proud. I was feeling quite validated. Mostly it is just really cool! It's like hitting that one great shot in a round of golf. It's enough to keep you going at it for quite a while. Not that the media ping is what motivates me. Really it is the people in my life and my desire to tell about them that keeps me going, coupled with the feedback from all of you. The writing for writing's sake.
But the media stuff is cool, too!
I'm off to stand in support of Cindy Sheehan tonight. Right in front of Congressman Tom Lantos' office in San Mateo. I'm going with hubby's aunt to show support for Cindy and military Moms everywhere with the message that we need to bring our children home. Looks like there will be over 100 people there at our location and who knows how many more at the other 1,700+ observances across the country tonight. Somebody needs to make this shit stop. I am, quite literally today, a Mom on a Mission.
I have the book on my shelf...perhaps it should come off the shelf and into my soul...
You're The Poisonwood Bible!
by Barbara Kingsolver
Deeply rooted in a religious background, you have since become both isolated and schizophrenic. You were naively sure that your actions would help people, but of course they were resistant to your message and ultimately disaster ensued. Since you can see so many sides of the same issue, you are both wise beyond your years and tied to worthless perspectives. If you were a type of waffle, it would be Belgian.
Take the Book Quiz at the Blue Pyramid.
A couple of days removed from the reunion and I have to say that there were only a few surprises. One was the big, dumb, jock, no-brained guy, Danny who turns out to be a born-again Christian, smarty, loving husband and father type. Go figure. He didn't recognize me or my name until I told him who I dated while in high-school (a couple of his football buddies) and then I got the "OOOOHHHH...I remember you. Can I just say that I am so glad that I am no longer defined by who I am sleeping with, but rather who I gave birth to?
There was only one of my ex-bfriends there. His name is Chris. Kris and Chris. Yeah, cute, huh? He was sweet, but not the brightest bulb in the pack. Still. He broke up with me in our Sophomore year to date a girl named Zoe whom he ended up marying...so I can live with that one. His nickname in HS was the oh-so-not-PC...Taco. I think he was the only hispanic kid at our white bread school. He was always very sweet. Let me wear his football jersey so that was really all I cared about.
Here is the most important photo of the evening. Me and my gal-pals, Becky, Katie and Deidra. Missing Kelly. The one who would have rounded out the fab 5 group. Just not the same without ALL 5 of us, but we felt her spirit all the way from Philly. The energy and spirt in the room when we are all together is electrifying. Really.
Met up with some gals who I really wish I had gotten to know better. Judy (hey, Judy, I know you are reading this! Great to see you!) And Julia. Turned out to be a beautiful and successful woman. I must say that the women that I met up with that night were absolutely amazing.
Here is a photo of a few of us...used to hang out in the rally court every day together, went to drive in's, lunch at Chili's, parties...the whole drill. Good times, but I have to say that as I walked out at the end of the night I felt so strongly that I had married the right guy and kept close with the right people (B,D,K, & K). Fun to revisit the past, but even better when you realize that those were not the best years of your life. THESE ARE! Seriously. I wouldn't trade where I was for where I am for ANYTHING.
I've got 10 more years to loose about 50lbs before the next one!
In just a few I will be headed to the home of one of my best friends. Several of us are meeting there to chat, bond, and get ready to go to our 20th high school reunion.
Did I just say that? 20th? No, really, it's just the 10th.
No, it really is the 20th. Eekk gads.
I am going with my self-made '80's mix CD and my iPod full of '80's music (Monta Vista High School Class of 1985 is who we are).
Wish me luck. I'm actually looking forward to it all. Mostly hangin' with my sista's. Will take photos and should be wearing an "I'm blogging this" t-shirt, 'cause you know you'll hear about it!
I was thinking about going to Mass this Sunday. We have never gone to Mass as a family. This is our first real High School Event as Payton goes into Serra High School (an all boys Catholic school). So anyway, as I was thinking about it, it dawned on me.
This is brilliant. What better way to kick off these sometimes frightening years than to get down on my knees and to pray to the powers that be for help, support, guidance and mercy.
So, dear friends, this Sunday I will don my finest apparel, march myself into the school chapel, get down on my knees and pray that the universe will be kind to my son (but not too kind because he needs to know REAL life), watch over him and keep him from doing anything too stupid (he'll be driving this time next year).
I'm off to pick up Darren from the airport. He's been in Gig Harbor, WA since mid July. It will be great to have him home. He has a couple of weeks to hang out before school starts.
Payton is in LA with hubby. They are sitting on Laguna Beach as I'm typing this. We were down in Fullerton for a baseball tournament, but now that it's over dad and son are having some R&R bonding time.
My 20th high school reunion is this weekend. What to wear...what to wear...
The evening started out in fine form. I went to my friend Katie's house to see her, her husband, their two miracle babies, and Becky and Kelly (Katie, Kelly, and Becky are G friends of mine. From High School. The best a gal can have). Katie was gracious enough to let me and Becky and Kelly hold the sweet babies, Sophie and Trent (twins born at 24 weeks and are truly fighters). We cooed, we coddled, we oohed and we ahhed. All was so sweet and wonderful. A few minutes after turning the babes back over to Mom and Dad, miss Me starts getting a little warm. Ok, so it was a rather warm evening and I was still in my work garb, long pants and all, but I had been there a while so why this change in temp? Oh well. A few minutes later my body is like Yosemite Falls. I have sweat rolling down my back and my chest and my face and my neck and even down the backs of my legs. What the Hell?
I'm dying here. Trying hard to hold it together. Finally I grab a paper plate (the uber strong Chinet kind, not that flimsy good for nothing crap...thanks Katie) and start using it as a fan. Furiously. Like my life depended on it. I thought it was freaky, but on the ride home it hits me. Good god. Those babies made my hormones RAGE! I can't even tell you how long it has been since I've held a baby. My body and brain have always played tricks on me. When my super buddy Deidra was prego and we spent the weekend together, I started waking up with cramps in my calves. Something that only had ever happened when I was pregnant. Then when my sister in law showed me her ultra sound, I got morning sickness for a week.
So the babies and my brain effed with my body. I'm just starting to have hot flashes on an irregular basis (except at night when they are frequent), and insomnia and headaches to floor a giant. But this really kicked my ASS! I firmly believe that my body was made for making babies. I get pregnant at the drop of a hat, my pregnancies were flawless, my deliveries were short, and I am a natural with the little wonders. My gyno said long ago that my body was perfect for babies....
large space between my pelvic bones huge ass hips and ovaries that won't quit. So now I'm being punished for only having 2 kids. I think that the cosmos meant for me to have 6 or 7. Seriously. And now I'm paying the price. Damn you hormones...