The Line

I don't know about you, but I have a very distinct line where I am comfortable with my body.

I'm sure it is different for everybody. It depends on how tall you are and what type of bone structure you have. My line is 180.

My weight tends to fluctuate drastically. I am one of those people who will lose a bunch of weight and then gain a bunch of weight and then lost it again and so forth. Because of this, I know my lines.

I am 5' 9". (Assuming I stand up straight, which I never ever do.)

My body used to tend to regulate itself around 160 pounds. If I were between 140 and 160 I felt pretty good. Anything under 140 and I start to look sickly. Maybe now that I am in my late thirties my middle is closer to 165, so lets say between 145 and 165 I look good.

Anything above 166 I look "heavy". Not fat, just heavy. Like I could stand to lose a few pounds.

When I cross over to 180 I look different. I look fat. My face changes shape and I am uncomfortable all of the time.

I have been uncomfortable for a couple of weeks now but I was afraid to get on the scale.

I knew exactly what it was going to say.

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We've been traveling. One of the things about long car trips with two picky four year olds is that I end up eating garbage like McDonalds.

I think anybody that is reading this blog knows what that means.

In a hotel room in Florence, South Carolina I caught a glimpse of myself from the side.

It didn't even look like me. I am almost as wide from front to back as I am from side to side. I have a beer belly!

Who am I trying to kid? I have a beer everything.

So I have spent the last couple of days beating myself up mentally. I've been calling myself horrible names in my mind. I've been exercising slightly more moderation but I am on vacation and it is Thanksgiving.

And the fat doesn't come off that fast.

I finally hauled my fat ass up on my Mom's scale this morning. 184.* I haven't weighed that much since just after my twins were born.

It is no secret I love beer. It is no secret that beer has a shitload of empty calories. Something has got to give and since nobody will give me any Fen-Phen it is going to have to be the beer.

Now, I'm not going to go crazy. When I go crazy I can't keep any weight off and depriving ones self during the holidays just leads to binging in January. (For me anyway, I know. I've done it before. Twice.) What I am going to do is take it easier. I am going to pay attention.

And when I get home, some things are going to change.

They have to. I can't live hating myself like this.


* Remember, these numbers mean different things to everybody. You could be smokin' hot at 215. You could be round and flabby at 126, I have no idea. Do not apply my fat numbers to yourself.

Can't Even Win at Losing

I'll be honest. I have not actually stepped on a scale in weeks.

I'm too scared.

I overextended myself. I said yet to too many things. I was freaking out.

The first thing that went was the gym.

It wasn't even that I didn't enjoy it. It was the commute in the DC traffic that was getting to me. I would stress out days in advance about making it to the gym on time. I was worried if I had the $4 cash it required to park. I was nervous that I couldn't make it back quick enough to pick my kids up from school on time.

A one hour work out became a three hour commitment in DC traffic. Twice a week. I just couldn't do it.

So I let it go for my mental health.

And I stopped exercising all together.

It is bad. My fat jeans are getting tighter. I have Sensa sitting here that I haven't even opened. My poor elliptical machine hasn't been touched in months.

And now... the Holidays.

Help me fellow Loser Moms. Help me get back on track.

Operation Pie Hole Control

I'm not sure how the stars aligned in order to have Halloween on a Friday, followed by a long weekend where the kids don't' have school on Monday OR Tuesday but they did and it has been quite a challenge for me. In an effort to maximize my PHC (Pie Hole Control)I have locked the candy in my car during the day. Since I work from home, I just couldn't control myself enough to have the candy in the house. I tried, believe me. I just know myself too well. In years past I have hidden the candy from myself, I have had others hide it too. Doesn't work. Seriously, I'm like a Bloodhound, only I'm picking up on the scent of an Almond Joy and following it.

I've tried putting the candy in the freezer, like someone suggested to Sarah on her earlier post. It didn't work for me. People like me, just gnaw at a Baby Ruth until it breaks off and it becomes edible. I've tried putting the candy in inconvenient locations that require a tall ladder, but like a shark in a feeding frenzy, I can't swim off and ignore the Snicker Bar chum in my habitat. Pathetic, I know.

So today the candy is locked in my car. I've not yet gone to the garage to dig it out, so maybe this will work. If it doesn't work, then the other option is to put it in The Huz's car and have him park it at the Pentagon. At least if it were there I would not only have to drive 30 minutes to get it, I would have to get through security. Now that I think of it, if he does wind up having to take the candy in his car, I should surrender my ID card to him as well.

I wonder if I could ask The Huz to bring home a couple of Security Police to man our fridge at home. I bet that would deter me a lot.

FYI: The zombie in the picture belongs to me. He's my youngest son. I put the screw in his head myself! : )

This Leftover Halloween Candy Isn't Helping Anything

Ugh.


I was expecting a huge trick or treating turnout this year. That didn't happen. I have a lot of Halloween candy let. A LOT.

Well, less than I had yesterday, but still a good deal.
I know the right answer is to just throw it away, but it seems so wasteful.

I need some ideas so I don't just graze on candy all day.

Help!