I’m not knocking the fast food regimen. I used to live by it when I worked at the BK-and weighed about forty pounds lighter and running every which way but Sunday. We got comp’d meals, which was wonderful when you were a broke kid renting with a roommate and the only one paying bills, but that’s a story unto itself. But I’d do the BK diet, and get a six inch veggie delight from Subway on my way home. I was also a vegetarian, but hey, don’t judge me. Or my new waistline.

But what I am knocking is the prices. It costs more to get the salad than to get the burger. Look at MacDonalds-a place prized for cheap, low quality food. The salad costs almost twice as much as the Big Mac. Why don’t you put that in a rap? And at least you can order a salad at BK without the chicken. Subway has got everyone else beat as far as healthy options, but my fav salad is th Zaxby’s Blue Zalad, Buffaloed of course. Now don’t get me wrong, I occasionally do good-no fried onions, and I very rarely eat the toast. The toast is for my pup Noodles-aka the toast buddy.

But I remember home grown tomatoes, and having to give away lettuce because we grew so much. And during the summer, I was in heaven. It was salad season! Chef, Tossed, Cranberry Walnut, any type of salad you could want-we pretty much had it for dinner. Because we had too much lettuce and tomatoes. And pair it with ranch? Parish the thought! I did it with Light Italian. And lots of fresh spinach thrown in too. Of course, it was in the days where I was on a roll with the exercise. My old daily schedule is as follows:
Wake at seven, get ready, eat a piece of fruit, get on spinn bike for an hour and a half
500 sit ups, 300 crunched, 50 lunges, 50 jumping squats, 35 pushups, and 50 reverse pushups
have a snack, go about day until lunch, have a salad, get on spinn bike for thirty minutes, have a snack
get a shower, then clean house (and that was a workout within itself)
Eat dinner, side salad and brown rice with lentils, get on spinn bike for an hour,
400 sit ups, 200 crunches, 30 jumping squats, 30 pushups, and 50 reverse pushups.
Then relax with an hour of yoga.

Yes I was fit. Yes I didn’t have anything to do. Yes I was crazy. But I was losing weight like crazy, and I was doing more situps than even Brittany freaking Spears. But I was off on the weekends, mainly because that was saved for helping my parents do yardwork-such as digging through clay, hauling fifty pound bags of feed, hauling wayyyy too many big rocks, and whatever else was needed to do (lately it’s been renovating a house, crawling under the house to do duct work, and the like).

My point is that It costs more for a tomato than for a box of little debbies. Welcome to America.

I used to ride my bike for hours, just spending time outside and playing. I wasn’t Lance Armstrong…just a little more sporty at that age. I never got tired of riding, and I guess I was pretty good at it-but mind you that this was the days of Walkmans, and my little tape-deck was blaring Christina Aguilara’s Genie in a Bottle, and I was singing my little heart out while the other kids made fun of my horrendous singing. So yes, this was probably over a decade ago, and I had not ridden a bike since. So me getting a bike earlier this week was probably not the best idea.

None the less, I bought one. And I have gone out on said bike for the past three days, as well as doing a few crunches and the like every day.

I have come to a highly intelligent conclusion. Neigh, it is scientific! It is a conclusion that one can only come by with some serious testing and hypothesizing. What is this fabulously crazy-smart conclusion?

I am so fat and out of shape.

On my drive to work, I set my trip button to see exactly how far I biked last night. I went a mile
A FULL mile. And I live on a mountain, so there was a serious hill involved. Who rocks? I do of course.

Get used to it.

I’m significantly sad today. As in Special K diet-rejoice. You have no problems with me today, for I have destroyed another human being. I broke up with the younger boyfriend from my earlier posts. And he is devastated-and his family has basically put him on suicide watch.

Yes that was my reaction-WTF? Why? If he was not sane enough to handle getting out of a relationship, then he never should have been in one in the first place. But with all the things I am going through, why do I have to deal with his own psyche that is obviously in need of an overhaul?

Of course his brother is furious with me, but I am not too surprised. His dad’s girlfriend-she’s positive we will get back together. And him? He wouldn’t let go.

Me? has anyone asked me how I’ve been? No-it’s always why, and then they try to justify everything he does. Do my feelings not matter? Why does no one try to justify my decisions? I have my  friend Becky-but he’s got wayyy more people. And they all seem to be waging war.

And why did I break up with him? Personal reasons. Reasons that are none of anyone elses business-and yet they won’t let it go. Yes I have a few things he did that just would have led to a breakup later-we never had any real conversations, he was too needy when we were apart and always played video games when we were together. He always complained about everything, and he always told me EVERY time he played with his noodle. I understand personality quirks, but there are quirks and major differences. Oh, plus there was the whole he’s supposedly suicidal.

I am a proud woman, and that to me is one of the lowest lows. You never base your worth upon whether or not someone is there. And for that to even be a factor…Let’s just say that if he ever tries anything, I will make sure he never sees or hears from me again. Period. Except for when I scream at him in the hospital and smack him. And tell him that I will never have anything to do with him. I know-I’m such a romantic. Truth be known, I do better on my own. I don’t know how to be happy in love, and having someone there complicates everything. I’m sick of fighting with everyone, and I want a little peace-and he just wasn’t conducive to that. Any therapist would have told me to do exactly what I’ve done, that if I wasn’t happy with him, and things were getting worse, then to dump him and start working on myself. Which was what I am doing. So I got a bike yesterday, and I dumped him last night.

And today I am just being me. I’m not smiling when I don’t want to. And I am sore. Horribly so-I went on an actual bike ride. I got halfway down the street and had to turn around. By the time I got to the beginning of the yard, I could barely pedal. When I got to my driveway, I collapsed and laid on the pavement. For twenty minutes. But today, I am smiling because I want to.

I was recently on the mend from a serious menstral cycle. I mean, midol were skittles as far as I was concerned, and they worked just as well. A heating pad…psh-as if the even poked at the edge of my back pain. I was having hot flashes in my sleep, and I’d wake up in my skivvies, I was flying through tampons like donuts at a weight watchers convention, and my mood swings could have put me in the majors for how hard they were hitting balls out of the park. I was in my own personal hell-at least for a week out of the month. My mother is a wonderful woman, and stopped at Walmart. She called me, and I begged for chocolate. I was pushed to near tears I wanted chocolate so badly. I was ready to pull a Meg Ryan in The Women-grab a stick of butter and dip it in sugar and cocoa powder to get my chocolate fix-but my mother, being the great mom she is, agreed to get me chocolate.

My favorite game when I know someone is bringing me chocolate-or even when I am getting myself chocolate is the Guessing Game. What am I getting? Will it be dark, or milk, or even white chocolate? What about nougat? I love nougat, but you know what else I like? Almonds! What if that person is getting me a Hershey Almond! Or even a Hershey’s Cookies N Cream?! Oh…to say I love chocolate is an understatement. I mean, chocolate is a separate food group for me! Some people have a chocolate love, I  have a chocolate obsession. Do I exaggerate? Maybe, but let’s say that I have perfected the recipe for a heavenly chocolate truffle-and it involves aging the ganache for at least two weeks.

But LO AND BEHOLD! I was brought a Whatchyamacallit. Yes, my wonderous and beloved experienced by that one long word. It was a king size! But it was a Whatchyamacallit.

I hold nothing against the Whatchyamacallit-in fact, it is a good candy bar. But…it is not a good chocolate bar. In fact, I looked at the ingredients, and it isn’t even chocolate practically! It’s…preservatives, and corn syrup, and…that was it! When I saw this, my mother could read my reaction. She made a hasty explanation of how she didn’t know what to get, and I understood, really I did, but still……I wanted chocolate. And chocolate was not what I got. I said my thanks, then ate part of it, offering some to my mother, but not even she wanted it. So into my freezer it went, poor thing, to be abandoned for another week.

I ate the rest of it last night, to go along with fried chicken. Plenty of fried chicken. That was fed to my dog Sophie. To explain why the chicken went to my dog and the candy to me, I have to start with my day off. It was a wonderful day! It was sunny out, and I began on a quilt I am making for my best friend’s baby. My ex is now wonderously in love with my best friend, and we now love to aggravate each other. Well, I made him mad yesterday afternoon, and he started behaving accordingly. Come dinner time, I sit down to eat, and my phone goes off, and I have a nine page text from him, in all caps, cussing me up one side and down the other with all these terrible things that he wished would happen to me, and him ending it with that he was joking, that revenge was a dish best served cold, and also-to call my boyfriend immediately and start explaining.

I forwarded my message to my boyfriend, and asked him to forward the message he got from my ex to me. It was how my best friend had told my ex about how I was wanting to go out with this guy I really liked, and I was going to dump my boyfriend very soon to be with this other man. The bottom dropped out of my stomach, and my boyfriend wouldn’t answer when I called, nor did he answer my texts. In tears, I called my best friend and explained the entire thing, and needless to say, she hung up on me, called this man who loved her so deeply,and ripped him a new one. When he sent me another text cussing and telling me to wipe my  eyes and get over it, she was enraged. He believes that he did me and my boyfriend a favor-that we have trust issues, and that this would bring that to light. Of course, because my ex is a complete neanderthal, he didn’t realize that the relationship problems we had shared did not carry over into my new relationship with my new guy. When my boyfriend did call me, he assured me that he believed me, and that he trusted that I wouldn’t do that to him. So, nearly two hours later, and too many tissues later, I realized I had not eaten a thing. Nor did I want to-except for something with chocolate. So Sophie got my chicken and I got my chocolate. Well, my almost chocolate.

Of course this is my hello to whatever readers may come, but more than anything, it is my welcoming you to my mind

This isn’t my journey. It’s yours. I’m here for moral support-that is, to give it to you. I’m not super motivated. I’m just like you-I don’t like my body, but I like to eat. I am a goofball, and I’ve got the same stresses that you do. I have the family drama-I actually have more than my share. I have the job that I’m not sure I like. I have the school blues, and since more often than not I have my niece, I have the toddler troubles. If you think my love life isn’t messy, try reading “…when it didn’t matter the dress size?” THAT will change your mind. I love carbs, think about marrying chocolate, and sure do realize the importance of cheese on everything. But I’m here to let you know that even when you’re down and out, I am here for you. I’m going through the exact same thing.

And I still remember the days…

I certainly do. To better explain what I mean, you should know that I am watching the snow. I am seriously jonesing for a snowball fight-a hard core, super-packed snowballs in reserve, having the twenty minutes to build the fort before, you come out with bruises snowball fight. Are you aware of how many calories that burns? It’s practically cardio! Unfortuantely-I can’t bring myself to do either. And since I am trapped indoors, I do indoor things. I watch tv. I cook food. I EAT food. It’s too bad, really, that I don’t embrace my inner child and have the snowball fight. I just can’t bring myself to do it-I fight so much with my family members that I end up always getting called a child. Being the baby of the family, It is about the only thing that really grates my nerves. Instead, I clean house and do laundry.

The best part of that is that I listen to Feedback. As in the totally awesome music station provided by Dishnetwork-channel 960 (hey, Dish, interested in having a paid endorser of the music?) But for those of you who have never taken a moment during your extreme boredom to explore all of your television channels (when I was eleven, we had Comcast. And four Nickelodeon channels-can you say SWEET!), I highly suggest you do. Since I have started listening, I have found Bell 1X, MGMT, the Noisettes, Gomez, Ben Lee, and wayyy too many more to count. Why do I mention my fav music channel? because while I am doin my laundry and cleaning the house, I blare the music. And it is the kind of music that…you can’t help but dance like a fool to. I’m not talking Flashdance, or Dancing with the Stars, or Dirty Dancing. I am talking early Grey’s Anatomy-Merideth and Christina dancing in the living room. Christina busting a move with Burke in their apartment. Merideth and Christina and Lexie, when Iz and George join in after they break up, post THE affair to turn Callie.

My dogs think I’m playing with them, so I do. My clothes end up semi wrinkled because I totally suck at the holding still long enough to ut them on hangers. I have burned cookies (probably saved two pounds there, thank you God) because I am too wrapped up in my grooving. I’ve done it for hours-and woken up ridiculously sore, and then done it again. And to be honest, it beats watching yet another Deperate Housewives rerun.

Summer is so much better though. In my opinion, and according to my mother, I have the mentality that my opinion is the only one that counts. What can I say-I am very much my father’s child. Just like my siblings. We are all too stubborn, too pigheaded, and too opinionated. But hey, I love it, so everyone else can just get over it (ahem, sisters dearest). But yes, I love spring, and summer, and sometimes fall. Due to the stupidly cold weather, even more so. I love fresh fruits and veggies, and I love swimming. I love my hair when my natural highlights really show through. I…well, I hate shorts, but I love capris. I have only found one pair of shorts I have ever really liked, and my sister called them my hotpants. They were short, though at the time, my thighs were unmarked by those ugly devil-marks called stratchmarks. They were beautifully undimpled by celulite. Best of all-they were high waisted. I know, very uncouth, but hey-if I wear low-risers, I get the dreaded muffin top. And the-gasp!-butt cleavage. I am not a woman who can pull off the low risers. I have the hourglass body, and like a true, classic hourglass body, I can’t disrupt my body’s natural lines. If I do…*shivers at the thought* I’d rather not talk about it.

But I love the summer. You get to do great, calorie burning activitieswithout feeling like your exercising. Swimming, biking, hiking, salads, spinach, grilling, pick your own, fill your baskets, flowers, trees, soft grass, and sweet smells. I love taking pictures. Nature pictures, people not paying any attention, and people interacting with nature. What’s better? Oh yeah-My parents got an RV. It’s not like my family is broke-if we were, then I don’t know where all the money goes. But my parents certainly are cheap. They buy things old. The RV is old-but the engine and tires are brand new. Our house is old-but the floors and walls and everything else is all redone to like new. It gives me a love of old things. And of course, I have been commisioned to recover the cloth things, being that I am the only one who sews in the family. But the glory of the RV is in its potential. Plus the fact that it is going to be at the river, which means swimming and hiking whenever I want. Can we say hello new scrapbook of photos?

Not to mention hello smaller waistline…

If you answered yes, then congratulations-you’re old! Lol-just kidding (I’m sorry, lol=laugh out loud). It really means you lived in a golden age of when you didn’t have to be itty bitty. But if you are like me, and answered no, then chances are you understand my pain. The cringing at photographs, and tears over your prom photos-who could really miss that?

Well, to really give you a view of why I am a new but avid fan of 3FCs, I have to bring you on a journey to my past….(don’t worry, it’s not a long journey. I’m still young)….

It is 1994, the jeans were ripped and the mullets were long, and I was climbing on a counter. It wasn’t a tall counter, but I was hungry, and had been told to find something for myself. Of course, knowing where the tin for the cheetos were…I was fixing to be in heaven :)… Cut to 1999. My family was just introduced to El Monterey microwave burritos. Serving size one? AS IF! If I was going to be killed by a computer on New Years, I was going to be killed with a full tummy! And who is going to spend time making a salad to go with a microwave burito? It takes longer to cut the burrito than it does to warm it up… Chase down 2004, and you would find me chasing my teenage sorrows down with food only to throw them back up again. I was in the throes of teenage hormones, in love with a man who didn’t love me back (I’m sorry, but David Boreanaz had made it clear that he couldn’t be Angel for forever. He had to become the Booth to another woman’s Bones), and had an eating disorder. It was the worst time of my life, I was pushing one seventy, and my tiny frame couldn’t handle the extra weight well. I am foot three. Well, five foot two and a half, but I prefer to round up. I was miserable, and what had started out as eating well and exercising regularly turned into a nightmare of obsession.

Now we go to May of 2009. I am a happy teen, weighing about one thirty, living on her own with her best friend, working forty hours a week, and finally graduating high school. I met what was the man of my dreams that night. He was sweet, thoughtful, and just this side of cheesey. The relationship didn’t last but three weeks, and January of 2010, we meet again, slightly older and very much changed. I was no longer living on me own-I had moved backin with my folks when my best friend made it clear she wanted to play house with her significant other and I couldn’t afford a place on  my own (when I moved back in withmy parents I was a very slender 115) and I was working at a credit union. One with a very big bowl of junk food that was for us tellers. One right down the road from my favorite fast food restaurants. One where I sat on my butt all day.

But when this man and I remet-we rekindled the flame, of course. The first thing he said was how I was NOT his type. At all. He went for the types with the great butts. And brunettes with long hair-he had never dated a blonde. I was of course a short haired blonde with big chi chis-but no…badonk adonk. By his constant reiteration, I was of course self conscious. And then he told me about what he fantasized about.

Me, which made me happy.

But then he explicated… It was me. With a perfect butt. And long dark hair with bangs….. And a tiny waist- like a Japanese anime girl, he said. He said some other things….but I let it go. And he would tell me when he was fantasizing about me…like that. So in essence, he wasn’t fantasizing about me. The girl he was fantasizing about was someone completely different. And when he dumped me, I was devastated. The only way I could describe it is as…totally shattered. For a few days. Until his brother came along. I know what you are thinking-but when I dated this man, we never did anything, it was a long distance relationship. Don’t despair for him though. I set him up with my other best friend, and he is madly in love with her. But his brother is younger, and sweeter. And he loves my body, even though it doesn’t erase what the first one said. 

Another thing you should know-his brother is skinny. He has a tiny frame, and he is thin…very thin. Which of course makes me feel…bigger. And I currently went up a dress size. And…a year after I was free of the horrors of prom…

I was asked to prom.