BulgingButtons

Not bad for a fat girl


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Check Me Out – But Not Too Closely

Blog stats are a funny thing. They can give a blogger a sense of what people are interested in reading, and they can practically make a blogger (ok, me) giddy when they spike. I want to be read! I also get a kick out of checking out the map. I enjoy it when people from far-flung places visit, even if I suspect the majority of them aren’t actually reading the content.

That being said, I still have to write content that’s worth reading. My dear readers, I know I’ve been missing that mark more times than hitting it lately. What can I say, other than, I’m sorry? I promise to try harder.

Still, you continue to hang with me, and some of you are even getting out your tool belts and rolling up your sleeves to dig around BulgingButtons to unearth some oldies but goodies. I think it’s often the catchy titles that attract readers to start with. Some of the posts with the most hits have odd titles, like “Goodbye Zebra Mules,” and “The Devil, Karma, and Frito Pie.” Hopefully, though, you enjoy more than just the title.

Hopefully you enjoy reading about my daily ups and downs, and the perils of being a fat girl in a skinny (or desperately trying to be skinny) world. stained-shirt-300x225Today’s fat girl problem: the shelf. You know, that place along the boob line where dropped food always seems to hit before careening off into the unknown (or just settling there).

As I write, I am wearing yet another shirt with a stain along the shelf. Why? Because salad dressing stains. Yes, I got it on myself while I was at lunch with my friend. The food never goes straight down when it falls off the fork (and why exactly does it fall off the fork in the first place? I don’t know). It invariably hits the shelf and leaves a tell-tale mark, which, 90% of the time leaves a stain.

This is why fat women wear prints. The stains are far less noticeable on a print than they are on a field of solid lavender (like the shirt I have most recently stained). This is also why this fat girl hates to spend much on shirts or dresses. About 1 in 5 never make it past the first wearing. 20% people! This is a distressingly high statistic. It’s alarming, really.

What can be done? I don’t know. A better fork? Less messy food? IV fluids only? It seems like there are some options out there. This problem needs a solution, and it needs it fast, because I’m running out of clothes, and I really don’t want to go shopping.

 


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Pulling the Plug

nfs_lg-300x178Enough already. I tried. I really did. I cleaned, I feng shui-ed, I put in flowers, I made attractive flyers, I staged, I did it all. I’m done. I’m throwing in the towel. This house is NOT for sale. The May mantra is no longer “sell this house.” Now it has become “love this home.”

I wanted to sell. I wanted to make the change for several reasons, but never because I didn’t like my house or neighborhood. I like both, I can afford my home, and I’m staying.

My timing was off. Selling during construction season is to be avoided at all costs, believe me. The further along the construction progresses, the scarier it is to potential buyers. Nobody is biting, and prices in my area, and others, are dropping.

At this point, the type of home I would be able to afford wouldn’t make the move worthwhile. I’d rather stay here and make some changes. After all, I do have some equity in the house, and some ideas about what I’d like to do here.

Now that I’ve made this decision, I feel like a weight has been lifted. I won’t constantly check my phone, afraid that I’ve missed a call from some realtor who wants to set up a showing. I won’t run around every morning like a chicken with its head cut off making sure that every little thing is exactly perfect. I won’t wonder who might be in my home. I feel better already.

Tomorrow the sign comes out of the yard, and I start to relax in my own home again. I can honestly say, I’m looking forward to it.


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Seven Days, Seven Pounds

I almost don’t want to write this, because I’m pretty sure it will jinx it, but my first week at Weight Watchers was a resounding success. One week in and I’m seven pounds down. Can I get a woot woot?

I know that wine and cheesecake really aren’t part of the program, so I’m not expecting week two to look quite as rosy. I also know that the first week typically has the greatest weight loss. Something about “water weight” whatever that is. I don’t even think it’s a real thing. I think my body is just in shock.

It’s in shock that multiple fruits and vegetables have crossed my lips over the past week. For normal people that isn’t odd, but for me, the queen of all things bad for one’s health, it’s kind of incredible. Over the past week I’ve eaten carrots, beans, onions, broccoli, spinach, lettuce, cucumbers, peppers, corn, potatoes, avocado, blueberries, apples, bananas, raisins, cranberries, and blackberries.fruit_vs_junkfood

I’m impressed with myself. My fantasy list looks more like this: frappucino, pizza, double cheeseburger, wine, cupcakes, pop tarts, sour cream and onion ruffles, chocolate, Indian food, chili, and chicken wings.

I have to get that out of my system, both literally and figuratively. I don’t need those things, I just like them. I need to keep working on reprogramming my mind. The less garbage I eat the less I want it, and the more healthy food I eat, the more I enjoy it. For some reason I keep forgetting this fact. Whoever said old habits die hard hit the nail on the head.

I’m thrilled with my seven pound loss, but I’m more excited about moving in the direction of making choices that will ultimately help me live a fuller, healthier life. Seven pounds is nothing. Good health and feeling good is everything.