Blah

Monday was so horrible I was glad to see Tuesday, but it has yet to feel like a Tuesday, argh!

I've given in and am now a permanent state govt employee. The low salary, the crappy health benefits (not so crappy when I consider that I didn't have it to begin with), the years of paper and bureaucracy ahead of me. Such is life.

Now that I'm officially in this position that I've held temporarily since December, everything I'm supposed to do that I didn't know about has been thrown onto me. And everything has a deadline, next week, tomorrow, yesterday, argh! The being nice stopped and now it's criticisms. Oh the joy.

Chiropractor this afternoon. We look at x-rays and I get "educated" some more on crap I've already heard twenty times. I think it's time to nip it in the bud. "Look, I get it. My spine has problems, it affects everything. I badly need adjustments. You badly need money. I don't have the money so either do it half price or shut up."

I need a nap.

Alpha is my new life

Since I have nothing to complain or talk about, I'd like to enlighten the very little audience I do have, on Alpha. The basics of Alpha are on the church website which I designed myself (with my "You can BS html too!" self-written book), but I'll tell you more here if you're too lazy to check this page out.

First, What is Alpha? It's a 10 week course, with dinner (have to have the food!) and small group discussions on investigating Christianity. It answers all the questions some might think are too dumb to ask, but wonder anyway. "Who Is Jesus" "What is the Holy Spirit" "How to Read the Bible" "How can I be sure of my faith?" "How can I make the most of the rest of my life?", etc. It's not school and it's not a boring weekly bible study either, trust me. The best way that I can describe it is to tell you this: My atheist turned agnostic husband went along to the first dinner and discussion because he was searching for some answers. He didn't find those answers yet, but decided to keep going, and somehow I got sucked into it the third week along (probably because they served dinner). Even though halfway through he still wasn't sure of anything because of "all the hypocrisy of Christians," he continued to go and by the end of the course not only became a Christian, but is now helping to run the Alpha course at our own church and playing guitar in the church's contemporary service. He reads the bible every night, and told me that his experience of finding God was a feeling of "relief." To hear that coming from my very analytical, logical and science-minded husband is a huge deal.

However, I can't really tell you his entire experience, everything is pretty personal. After all, what a person usually finds after the course is that they for once in their life, have an actual personal relationship with Jesus Christ. Not the pray and hope something happens relationship, but the relationship that involves such trust and confidence, that the person is able to feel peace and be free of anxiety when bad moments occur. What I can tell you is my own experience, but since the American attention-span is as short as my manx cat's tail, I'll try my best to condense it.

I hate to sound like an infomercial for Alpha, and I especially hate to sound like one of those "jesus freaks" found on street corners shouting into megaphones just who is going to hell and such. I don't like those people either, and I don't like to be interrupted in the grocery store by someone who wants to preach the gospel to me. I'm not one of those people. I'm a 25 year old big kid who wishes her Daddy could still walk on water, and her Mommy could still make everything better with a kiss and a bowl of ice cream. I can't say that I spent my entire life being an atheist, but I was pretty agnostic for a better part of it, although I went to church and grew up in an Episcopal school. I could recite the lord's prayer in latin frontwards and backwards while standing on one foot, but for years I couldn't tell you what "temptation" meant.

I'll sum it up like this: Before Alpha - I had been going to church regularly for a year. I was diagnosed with severe depression, had a husband who couldn't live in the same country as me, and had a worthless college degree from a college that nobody in Louisiana knew existed (this college). I prayed, I thought I had gotten a pretty good understanding of God, and wanted my husband to be Christian. But I never touched a bible. I thought that was someone else's fictional history book that makes normal people just go nuts when they read it.

During Alpha - The best description I can tell you is that I felt loved. The basis of Alpha is to learn and discuss through the friendships you make with the others in your small group, and I did just that. These weren't people I'd normally hang out with, all of them were old enough to be my parents, and none of them had probably even considered voting for Gore four years ago. I had the best time on the course and looked forward to every Wednesday evening where I'd get a free dinner, good conversation with my group, I'd learn something and every now and then, I'd feel comfortable to ask one of my dumb questions. "So just what is the difference between Jesus and the Holy Ghost?" I made friends with these people, and learned incredibly valuable things through their life experiences.

After Alpha - I've finally understood just what the Bible has to do with all of this. It's not just a book, or just a history book for some. I can finally see it as my "owner's manual" for myself and my relationship with God. Not only that, it's no longer boring to me. I'm reading it, and I'm actually wanting to read more. It's amazing, I've tried reading it before and it was always just another boring story I didn't want to know. And this relationship with God thing, it's not about looking up and asking for help anymore. It's about feeling the presence all around me and in me, and just saying "thank you", "please" and "if that's what you want, this is what I'll do." It's even better than my imaginary friend from childhood, Bertha Louise May. I have two best friends in my heart. God and my husband. And it has brought my husband and I closer together now that we can share this relationship together.

It's not that I think everyone needs help. There are those who believe in God, but say that they don't need to go to church, or need to read the bible; and there are those who believe there is something, but that they shouldn't have to believe in something so hypocritical. People can live their entire lives without this relationship, and they might be fine. However, I'm forever grateful that I did Alpha. The biggest difference would probably be that I actually do feel that I can achieve fulfillment without buying something. I make mistakes with my money all the time. I just KNEW that the digital camera would be all I ever wanted and would make my life complete. I just KNOW that being skinny will be the end all to my disappointing life. I just KNEW that landing that british husband would make me whole. That's not where I found it. I found it after Alpha, when Hubby and I were discussing part of a gospel we had read, and immediately right there I prayed a "thank you for my husband" prayer that I do probably twenty times a day, and I felt such incredible peace and love, like a ghost wearing heated velvet bear-hugging me. That's my fulfillment.

Anyway, in case you're interested in doing something similar to Alpha or want to know more about it, go to www.alphausa.org and find out where courses are near you. There are hundreds of thousands of courses around the country and the world. And for you other Anglophiles - a lot of the course has to do with listening to lectures in a british accent. How's that for entertainment?

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28

The New Plan

With no more weddings to attend, I decided that I needed a new goal in losing weight. Of course I'd like to be healthy, able to fit in airplane seats, fancy high heeled shoes, and booths at restaurants; but, really that's not going to stop me from picking up a chocolate bar.

So I've been thinking about what might convince me to stick to a diet. Skinny girls flirting with my husband b/c of his English accent is one reason, but he's so darn trustworthy it isn't reason enough. Skinny girls looking me up and down with disdain in their faces isn't either. I just know they'll grow up into wrinkled old hags with pregnancy stretch marks and no personality to match. Fat doesn't wrinkle hun, so you can take that pointy nose and stretch your upper lip over your head and point to the nearest tanning salon that will give you a nice skin cancerous flambe'.

I've found the new plan. Clothes. I always complain about the difficult task of finding affordable, nice looking and fashionable clothes for a woman of my size, and I've decided that instead of fighting for the fat woman, I'm going to make it my goal to be able to shop with the skinny women. It's not that huge of a goal I don't think. I noticed yesterday that Old Navy carries a size 20, which is probably the fat woman's size 18. I like Old Navy, and they're cheap (I live by their outlet store). So, my first goal now is to be able to wear an Old Navy size 20 sometime this summer, July 4th would be a good date. And by my birthday (September 8th!), I'd like to be able to wear their size 18. Is that so horrible a goal? Is that too far-reaching? Let me know.

I can't take Change.

Not that my world has been turned upside down, but possibly at a slight 45 degree angle. I don't want to make it sound that it's a terrible detriment on my life that this has happened, I've just learned that I shouldn't bank on anything when it comes to people and their relationships. Not everything is going to stay hunky-dory, I should've learned that when my sister divorced her husband of 7 years and I lost my favorite brother in law (ok so he was my only bro in law at the time) in the world. It all confuses me, and people confuse me even more. That's all I can say.

So, a little housekeeping. The England wedding has been canceled, barring a very bad april fool's joke, which means I need a new definite timeframe for my diet. I suppose hubby and I are still going to visit England around that time (or maybe when it is cheaper to fly), so I should stick to that timeframe, because it's never fun to go to England as the fat marshmallow. Anyway, I need to rewrite this page, icksnay (why do people say that? it's pig latin for sick) on the wedding, and yes to some other big deal to force me into dieting.

I've been also banking on going to visit friends in Virginia next week for a friend's wedding in Richmond, but Husband and I decided that it would be best to not go since we can't afford the desperately needed new tires on the truck, much less gas money, food and a place to stay. I'm really upset about not being able to go to Virginia this time. After college, the only place to see all of your friends in one place again is a wedding, and in one day I've had to scratch two off of my calendar. Slush, you have to get married now. I don't care if it's a one day marriage like Britney Spears, or even a fake Elvis wedding in Vegas, just do it and invite all my friends.

Perhaps it's time for Pete and I to seriously budget and plan for our own wedding blessing ceremony. We didn't have a wedding, but a small civil ceremony in England with huge plans to have a big party over in the States when we could afford it. That was two years ago, and we've yet to manage to make those plans other than knowing that we want it to be at this place. Hmmm, maybe it's time to invest into a piggy bank.

Still OW!

I'll tell the dog/back story when I'm feeling better. As for now, I'm taking every moment I can to whine to darling husband and darling sister-in-law while I still can. I went to the office for half a day with ice packs on my neck and back and they gave me this cool homemade heat pack that you can microwave and it'll last hours. Love it.

Tomorrow is the chiropractor. Not sure what I think of chiros, but they made my mom better, so I suppose I better give it a chance. Cheaper than my doctor!

We introduced Linda (sis in law) to Waffle House today. She loves it too. Ahhh, share the love of smothered and covered hashbrowns...

Ow

Dog on leash, running, me on ground. Ow.

Anyone has neck/back cures let me know, it hurts!

Inspiration

Maybe that's what I lack, because I find it dayum difficult to stick to this diet. Mind you, I have a visitor over, but she's on a diet as well, and being very good at it even though she's on holiday... so that's no excuse. I need organization, I should prepare my foods ahead of time so that I can't use that as a reason to eat something unhealthy. Time... where is the time shop? I need to buy some time.

Or I could just bust every mirror I have. I was feeling great about myself, gave myself a "you're beautiful" pep talk, was feeling comfortable in fancy clothing... then took a side glance at myself in a mirror and noticed that I take up the space of three skinny people. Ugh.

We went to the St. Paddy's Parade in New Orleans last night. It took forever to move along, but we had a great time once it was there. A lot of it involves men walking around (and a few women) wearing tuxedos or kilts and passing out flowers, beads, pins, garters, etc to the ladies (and the women would give these to the men). The catch is that when they give you one, you kiss each other on the cheek. I had a grand time feeling great about myself when I received some flowers, beads, doubloons and a pin... then I realized that most of the men who had given me these things were older men... but the young handsome lads were going straight for the pretty skinny blondes next to me, who held a dozen more flowers than me. Sigh...

Then I look at my husband, who is exactly what I have longed for most of my life anyhow, and I feel better. Those skinny blondes don't have him, he chose me. I think he needs his eyes checked, but he chose me and has stuck to me for the past five years that we've known each other. That makes me feel pretty darn incredible.

But I still want more flowers...

Day off work

English sister in law, New Orleans, Drive-Thru Daquiris, Headache, Bed.

Mmmmm, Beignets...

Slush has a blog

She's hungry, she's drunk, she's a law student with an almost-PhD in economics, but most of all, she's one of my best friends. And you can read her thoughts here.

I think I have to thank everybody I know for not making me a bridesmaid in their weddings. I don't have the bridesmaid body, I don't even have the bridal guest body, and I would ruin any and all wedding photos if I had to wear a sleeveless or off the shoulder dress making me look like a pregnant elephant in chiffon and bows. So to all brides and brides of the future - thanks. Even more thanks to those who did the obligatory asking, pretending to think of me as a bridesmaid and gracefully accepting my flat out NO. I've done my bridesmaid duties, was the maid of honor, wore a forest green bow with cleavage, had a two foot high beehive hair-do, and found out that three cans of aquanet takes multiple washings to leave your hair. No more.

I'm a bit gutted though that I'm going to two weddings this summer, (one in April! eek!) and will look like the obligatory fat woman wearing the house tent, not dancing because she can't even walk in heels, and making every photo look unbalanced with seven skinnies on one side, and her on the other, and coyly walking by the cake to grab a piece as long as no one is looking. I don't want to be that fat woman, but in evaluating my progress so far, I will be her. I only have a few weeks to the April wedding, and I can't seem to find anything to wear that looks decent that isn't black or a hawaiian print. And who told the clothing designers that fat ladies love to wear huge polka-dots, horizontal stripes, and jersey knit? Why do WE get the play clothes? Give me class!

Sigh... I'm sick of it. I'm sick of my diet not working, me not working on my diet, and the lack of plan B's I could get from the mall. I might just "rent-a-skinny" and let my husband take her to the wedding.

Weekend and Madrid

I'm so very upset about what happened in Madrid, it's my third favorite city in the world (1 being Granada, Spain, 2 being Barcelona). I just cant' get over it, those poor people.

Quick blog today as Husband and I are on our way to pick up sister in law from Airport. I'll have an English vegetarian who is doing the british version of weight watchers. We'll see how both our diets go while she's on holiday, and I have a guest.

Off to the airport, have a good weekend and pray for Madrid.

A valid excuse this time

I actually wanted to exercise yesterday. It's easy when I want to, since I still live w/the parents and they have an old, yet working treadmill that doubles as a clothes rack. I would probably workout more often if I could just get myself through those first few steps of finding the time, putting on clothing I can sweat in, and stepping onto the treadmill. I actually love the feeling I get from walking on it, it feels good, yet I hardly ever do it because I tell myself that I just don't have the time.

So yesterday I found the time, changed into my "cool" exercise clothes (thank you Wal-Mart) and tennis shoes, put my hair back and pumped myself up for some endorphin producing fun. I even put in a DVD, "Coupling" (one of my favorite brit-coms that didn't work over here b/c they just took the script and gave it to american actors which just doesn't work), stretched, and started up the treadmill. I almost began to sweat and was getting up to a good pace, when the dayum thing just stopped. It was on, plugged in, I was walking on it, and it just stopped. After tripping over my own feet and pulling some muscle in my leg, I stepped off of the treadmill, and it started up again. So I got back on... a minute later it stopped. Tried again, it stopped again.

Is the treadmill trying to tell me something now? I'm too heavy to exercise on it? I'm not crazy about it rocking and bouncing with me from side to side b/c of my weight, but since I'm in the privacy of my own home, I'll put up with it. Well it won't put up with me anymore. It might have to do with the tread needing tightening, and I hope that's the case, because that will probably be the end all to my exercise regime.

I can't go to a gym or health club and exercise, it's full of skinny people, getting skinnier and healthier, looking good when they're sweaty and wearing barely anything... then there's me in my ragged t-shirt, unmatching sweatpants, huffing and puffing away at 2.5 miles per hour on the treadmill with my face so red people ask me if I should sit down. That's not fun, the skinny people take all the endorphins away. I once tried going to a fitness club for women only, but it was full of skinnies too. Where's the fat fitness club? The huffy puffy fluffy gym? Maybe I need to start one, that has a minimum weight requirement.

There's also the outside, the trails around the lakes at LSU where the serial killer used to find victims, but I'm not sure if many know about Louisiana heat. It is year round. We have two seasons, Christmas and Summer. Not only is it hot, but it's humid, muggy, can't even expand your lungs steamy hot. Not great for exercise, but the few times that it is comfortable, we still have tens of thousands of mosquitoes, some carrying West Nile, others seeming to love the smell and taste of OFF! bug spray. We had a day that was in the 50's last week, and I still got bitten on my legs from the mosquitoes, just from walking the dogs outside.

So, what's a fat girl to do? There are skinnies everywhere, the treadmill won't let me walk, and my bicycle laughs at me when I try to remove the spiderwebs from its wheels. I need exercise.

New Diet Plan

I've decided on a new plan for my diet. I took my truck (Chevy Silverado) in for an alignment, oil change and rotate and balance, something that was planned to cost around $80 or so w/a coupon I had, and felt good b/c I actually budgeted for it this time. I had saved the money, and didn't have to rely on a credit card to get something important done. I felt accomplished. I am independent woman who doesn't need greedy creditors, I am saving-money-woman.

The car tech called me back to inform me that my shocks were ka-put, and it was no use aligning the truck unless I put new shocks in it. That's okay, I had saved for that too. I had the money, I said go for it. It felt good. I almost got a shopping high off of taking care of my truck. Productive shopping, I like it.

Tech called again. No use rotating and balancing the tires, b/c I need three of them replaced. They're so worn that no machine could balance them. That's what happens when your shocks are ka-put, the truck is out of alignment, and you're driving on pot-hole ridden roads in Louisiana where the state money goes to pay for the incarceration of two former governors and insurance commissioners. New Tires? They must be insane. I just got new tires in August. Bright, shiny whitewalls with GoodYear written on them, I shopped in Wal-Mart for two hours while they put them on my Boudreaux (name of my truck).

New tires... sheesh. You think I can just send the bill to the State of Louisiana for keeping their roads in such horrid condition? I bet Jamaican taxi drivers wouldn't even want to drive on our roads. They're horrible. So that's my next paycheck... new tires. Now I remember why not everybody drives big pickup trucks... more fuel, more expensive tires, shocks more often....

So this is the new diet. Starve while I save money for new tires. Is that how skinny people do it? They just try to save money? Maybe I should've bought a Hummer to drive instead. I would've been skinny ages ago from saving the money just to purchase fuel to drive the thing to work.

Starvation Diet 2004 - The Search for New Tires... I like it. We'll see how it goes.

New Role Model?

I think I know where my womanly habits come from. My "Princess Aunt Sari" (she has dubbed herself this name, and I am Princess in Training niece Ashley, and Sari is actually Sarah but with a different spelling btw) wrote to me to say that she and her darling husband went out clothes shopping on Sunday...

"We had gone shopping to buy much needed clothing and came home with a new Subaru Outback. I love the car, hate having a car payment. I still need clothes, but guess I will have to do without, not that I will be running around "nekkid" mind you, just the same old stuff. Love, Sari"

Note to self: Go shopping with Princess Aunt Sari more often.

She also told me that her and DH (Dear Hubby) are on the Atkins diet again. They made a special Atkins devil's food cake using the Atkins flour and sugar substitute, supposedly chocolate in flavor. It tasted so horrible that they rummaged through the kitchen until they found a can of vanilla icing and put that on top of the cake, which made it slightly better. They added more icing, until the layer of icing was almost as thick as the layer of cake, and it seemed to taste "just fine" then. She wrote this about it:

"A chocolate cake has never lasted so long in our house, yet a week later it was still sitting in the cake cover, half eaten. We decided to finish off the icing and throw it out. Who needs Atkins when you have Betty Crocker?"

Sometimes I feel like I'm her secret daughter, raised by her sister until Montel decides to take us on the show for it all to be revealed. The way she goes shopping, I don't mind. I am a "princess-in-training" after all.

Anniversary Questions

I don't have much wedding Anniversary experience, but I'm just so pleasantly surprised at getting an Anniversary card in the mail from a recently newlywed college friend. Pete and I don't expect half of our family members to even remember our anniversary, much less that we're married, yet I have a friend who lives a few states away, that I haven't spoken to since her wedding in September, who mailed me the sweetest Happy Anniversary card. That really, really touched me and made my day, week, probably even month. What a fantastic surprise.

It makes me wonder, just who are we supposed to expect to wish us a Happy Anniversary? Our parents did, of course, with exception to the father-in-law who wouldn't remember a birthday were it not for his live-in check writing girlfriend who signs his name to the cards she buys and sends; and we actually had one sibling out of the five who not only remembered, but sent an email and lovely card telling us so as well. We also have a never forgetful aunt and uncle who always send the loveliest letters on such occasions, but that's certainly not the norm for the other aunts and uncles. But then again, who keeps count, eh?

I realize that we did only have a tiny little civil wedding in England, where only a quarter of our relatives attended, but it's the people who didn't attend that seem to remember (with an exception of a few of course). Who are we supposed to expect to remember or even care about our anniversary? Should we make a big deal out of it ourselves?

I expect so, actually. Since over half of the marriages end in divorce, we should celebrate our anniversaries bigger than birthdays, and receive rewards for staying together in a happy, loving, and committed union. Where's our party with the clown, cake and bouncy castle? Where's the prank gifts and obligatory knitted sweater? Where's the balloons and "all about me" attention? We don't have kids yet, so we can still ask for attention, right?

Actually I'm not all that bothered about who remembers our anniversary and who doesn't, I still have the husband who does my laundry, cooks me breakfast, massages my shoulders, and writes me love songs on his guitar. He treats me so well and gives me so much royal attention that I forget I'm fat, bulging out of every piece of clothing I own. I should be writing his mum a thank you card every anniversary instead.

Um, mum? Thank you!

It's all a conspiracy

I think clothing designers and people in charge of special events have a long history of conspiring together in order to bring the fat (wo)man down. Think about it. What kind of clothes lose their purpose when they hang onto a fat woman? Dressy clothes. They no longer look dressy, classy, or even resemble professional or businesslike. There are a few exceptions, but those clothes never show up in my price range, so I have to wear the "looks good on a hanger" department. My closet is the only place where the clothes will ever look their best.

There was a co-worker's funeral today. Not someone I know very well since I'm new to the job, but I thought I would go and pay my respects. I went home yesterday after work and searched through my closet for appropriate black stuff, that I might look decent wearing. Not that I have black trousers, skirts, or dresses that fit me, but every time a woman goes into her closet, she believes that maybe there will be a divine intervention, showing her an outfit that will look just perfect for the occasion, that was never there the first five times she searched through the hangers. That's what I believe about my closet, anyway... not that it has produced such an item, but I still have hope.

Since I didn't have black, I looked for gray, and there it was. A long, classy gray wraparound skirt that I had bought a year ago to wear to job interviews, never worn, tags still on it, even hung on the clothing store hanger. Perfect.

Problem: I was two sizes smaller a year ago when I bought it. I bought it keeping in mind that I was going to diet, and stick to it, and lose weight... skirt remains untouched.

I'm not sure what I had hoped for, in finding the perfect funeral outfit. Whenever I do happen to find a great outfit for a funeral, wedding, job interview, or other special occasion, I always run into another big problem: shoes. Shoes aren't made for the fat woman. They have heels, pointy toes, narrow soles, and aren't designed to take on the weight of two women at once. My feet aren't pointy, narrow, light, nor are they designed to put all of my weight onto the toes/ball with every pounding step I take. I don't understand why there isn't a shoe market for me for these special occasions, certainly I'm not the first fat woman who has wanted to dress up. Whenever I do find a perfect shoe that fits the foot, it's either half my salary, or has a heel on it, just waiting to produce blisters all over my feet. A perfect shoe would fit like a tennis shoe, but look like a black leather mid-calf boot, perfect with everything.

So, I gave up on the outfit last night, went to bed and looked in the closet again this morning, hoping that the divine intervention had occurred.... no such luck. I picked up the same gray skirt again, hoping it had swollen two sizes overnight (no), picked up a little black dress bought three years ago (still too small), and after a good twenty minutes of staring, sorting, and playing peek a boo with under-sized garments... I left for work, wearing blue jeans, tennis shoes, and hubby's black long-sleeve polo shirt. I stayed behind and covered phones while the office went to work, seemed like a good plan as they all came in wearing classy black dresses and suits, and I wore my casual Friday attire.

Sorry Roz, I wish you peace, and maybe a giggle as you look down on my closet.

Where did he come from?

I realized yesterday just how incredibly lucky I am in the husband department.

I came home from work to find that hubby had half a day off and spent it napping. I was just about to mention some laundry he could have done, when I noticed that the dirty towels from the bathroom floor were washed, dried, folded AND put up in their proper cabinet. I'm at a loss for words. I didn't know men could do this. Hubby surprises me often with his cleaning prowess, but normally if he puts towels in the washer, I dry them and fold them, or vice versa. I was gobsmacked.

I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to make such a big deal and embarrass him so that it may never happen again, yet I wanted to make him feel thanked enough that he will do it again, so he'll know that it never goes unnoticed when he helps out like that. So I smothered him with thank yous and kisses, and he ignored me while he played with his other girlfriend (the guitar).

Men really are from mars, but I'm glad I got the one I did.

To bathe or not to bathe

Can skinny people really fit into those bathtubs comfortably? Is it really possible to be able to enjoy and soak in a puddle of water that just covers the top of your legs? Why do we still put up with these tiny bathtubs as the norm?

Please tell me that I'm not the only one who thinks the standard sized bathtub is ridiculously small. I tried to take a bath last night, in order to relax, and it was near impossible. Us big girls just can't expect to enjoy a regular bathtub. It's hard enough to tell how much water we should put in it, hardly any for me, since as soon as I get in, the water goes OUT. There isn't any room for moving around to wash, there isn't enough water or room to actually soak, and it's hard to stay warm when half the body isn't even touching the water.

My parents have it made. They have the huge jacuzzi bath that could accommodate washing a great dane. Hubby and I can both fit in there comfortably, probably along with the great dane (not recommended). But those tubs aren't cheap, and don't come standard with any house (except for double-wide trailers for some reason, which may become my next house). Is this another ploy to keep the fat (wo)man down? Keep us stinky just in case we ever manage to look cute, so that we will definitely be looked down upon.

Are bathtub makers really this evil, or just all anorexics trying to make a living?

Testing....

Trying to put pics on here! If this works, it's my two babies, Buddy (black) and Schatzie (cream), standard poodles ages 8 and 6 months respectively...


After

Before


And Buddy sleeping...

This one is for the mum in law

DH is initials for "Darling Hubby", I can't tell you what FW stands for, it's something I took out of Bridget Jones' and would feel awful letting you in on that little secret. I'll just say that it was a temporary nickname when he tested my anger to the highest level, and after a day of contemplating, he has brought that back down and is now known as DH again. You said in your comment that you would prefer FW to DH, but I sincerely hope that isn't the case in talking about your own sweet darling son.

I'm overwhelmed with myself. Not sure how else to say it, just overwhelmed. Here I am worrying over the pains of having to go without chocolate, coffee (gave it up for Lent, not the chocolate, that's just b/c of diet), peanut butter, and pasta.... then I go see The Passion and realize that it's no pain at all for me to give up that stuff to better my body, God's temple.

Nothing quite as refreshing as a good ol' slap in the face is there?

Now I'd lie if I said watching that movie immediately put me off of fatty, carby, and no-good-for-you foods for the rest of my life, but really all it did was add to the guilt when I do eat 'em... of course I still eat them, I just feel horrible doing it. Nothing quite as annoying as a fat woman's will, is there?

Switching subjects slightly, I noticed yesterday that I have a major overweight woman's radar built in. It's not that I go searching for others like me, but if I enter a restaurant/club/bar or even office, I automatically do a quick head count of the other overweight women to make me feel better, as though it is justified that I am worthy of being there because there are others like me. If there is someone bigger than me, then I feel even better. Well if that woman is eating a hamburger here, then I can too!

I also take a skinny, pretty female headcount, to make me feel equally guilty, hurt and ashamed of myself. How dare I think that I can enjoy the same public places as HER? She's loads prettier and skinner than I am. I should be in the bathroom handing out paper towels to everyone, or running sprints around the building, or serving hashbrowns, scattered and smothered next door at the Waffle House instead. Grrr, the presence of the skinny ladies makes me feel so inadequate. Too bad that won't automatically speed up my metabolism or curb my hunger.

What headcounts do you take?