grace

I'm not a huge video game fan, but I do like me some Dance Dance Revolution (DDR).

I'd love to say the years of dance training I had as a girl are apparent when I play this game, but unfortunately that is just not the case. My moves are uncoordinated and sometimes spastic. No grace here.

But! It's such a great way to work up a sweat and enjoy doing it. That's why it's not unusual for friends to come over to play with me.

The other night, one of my friends, GirlF, was dancing around with the DDR. And, apparently, she's as graceless as I am because she tooted! So caught up in the challenge was she that she let it slip out. Silent but violent, you know the type.

And I didn't know what to do. I can't recall ever having experienced someone else's flatulence as an adult when they didn't own up or even give me a little forewarning to make an escape. I know sometimes there's nothing you can do about the gas; it's coming whether you like it or not. That's the point at which I usually mumble some sort of, "I'm sooo sorry."

But what do you do when it's dealt by someone else? Someone who is not your significant other or a member of your immediate family? Am I supposed to just pretend it didn't happen? Or am I supposed to say, "Dang, girl! What'd you eat for dinner?!"

I chose to reclaim some semblance of grace for our evening and politely breathed through my mouth and acted as if my smell sensors were temporarily out of order while it lingered there for several minutes and on the three occasions after that that I detected the wretched odor. And we both lived happily ever after.

discouraged monday

Drat. I only went down four tenths of a pound this week.

It was a lazy week for me. I relied on some frozen foods, and I ate out several times. Although I thought I made healthy selections, it appears to have had a negative effect. I also had a lot of diet coke instead of my usual water.

I learned that I need to be more rigorous if I'm going to achieve a size I like in the foreseeable future. Also worth mentioning: I just feel better eating whole foods I prepare myself.

Again, here's my weekly weigh-in chart.

out of breath

One of the consequences of being overweight and out of shape is that embarrassing things happen. No, I'm not talking about farts sneaking out when I bend over or not being able to squeeze into a seat -- those things haven't happened to me yet, at least not when I haven't just eaten a big bowl of beans <wink>; thank Heaven I decided to stop gaining when I did. The things I'm talking about are embarrassing simply because they hurt my pride.

So I was glad the other evening when I climbed the three flights of stairs to a friend's apartment and arrived breathing normally. I know the last time I did it I was huffing and puffing at the top because I remember trying to hide it with deliberate deep and quiet breaths forced in and out through my nose so she wouldn't be thinking fat girl things about me. Which is silly, really, because I am fat. Real fat is not something a person can hide, like they can a few extra pounds with a well-cut pant.

Anyway. I haven't lost much more than a handful of pounds, and my exercise exploits haven't been particularly rigorous. But! It seems to be working. And that's a load off my mind.

two updates: one where i eat my words and the other where i am healed

I eat my words.
In these posts, I whined at length about my hairdressers (yes, that's a plural -- one for cut, one for color). And in the end, I swore off my colorist, ColorWonder.

But, Oh! how I regret that. I was too harsh. Or maybe my new 'do is just so awful that I'm willing to accept ColorWonder, with his lying ways and drugs and all. After all, we don't have to be BFF. I just need him to do my hair.

I went to New Guy. New Guy said wonderful things about the glory that I was to become. New Guy said he would cut six inches off my hair (fine by me since it was way too long already), and he promptly cut off about ten. And those extra four inches are the difference between shoulder- and chin-length.

Now, I don't mind chin-length hair on principle. But, given my current condition (that in which my chin has taken on a mate. Shall we call him "Double"?), a chin-length 'do is just not flattering. Double is shy, and this new nakedness makes him feel so exposed.

But what's worse is that the chin-length tresses were not shaped with any consideration of current fashion. I am now the not-so-proud owner of a bob. Without any texture or layers cut into it, it falls flat on the top and widens at the end where all the pieces come together in one blunt end. It's a triangle-do, if I'm not careful with styling. I know I'd think it's great if I had a toddler at my knee and a baby on my hip, but I don't have either of those things. And I don't think it's great. Because I live in the city, y'all, and I'm required to maintain at least a smidgen of style-a-la-mode (How's that for attempting to use a language I know nothing about?).

And also? Also, New Guy said he would take me from brunette to blonde with highlights that look natural. New Guy gave me highlights that are anything but. They are streaky and amateurish-looking. I've got stripes. Ask BoyGenius if you don't believe me. He understands these things -- the subtle or not-so-subtle differences between a good hair style and a great one -- and he also rates this guy as artless.

If the above testimony doesn't suffice, here's the true test. . . I visited family (suburbia and country dwellers all) right after this was done to me and I got COMPLIMENTS. A lot of them. And, like I said, I would probably like this hairdo if I lived their lifestyle and ran in the same circles. But back here at home, where I must live and work and play, I have gotten ZERO remarks from friends or anyone else. And it certainly couldn't be that nobody's noticed. I mean, TEN INCHES! And brunette to BLONDE! The only conclusion I can come to is that it is very bad indeed, and it would hurt everyone's hearts too much to mention it.

But do you know what the worst part of all this is? One hundred eighty dollars! I'm still dumbfounded that I just swallowed my shock and whipped out that credit card. Why didn't I object? $180 for this? This is not good, and you, New Guy, are an amateur. How dare you charge so much? Do you think you are better than Scissorhands? Better than ColorWonder?

And I'm sorry I didn't get all bitter and wretched and complain about the cut while I was there and insist on a lower price too -- at the time I thought it might grow on me. At least I did tell him outright that I was not loving or even liking his color job since I am 32 now and know that I don't have to pretend I like it. I'm sure that $180 (plus tip, mind you. Apparently I still have things to learn.) will heal any hurt feelings he acquired over my disapproval.

So, Scissorhands, I'm very sorry for cheating on you. Thank you for calling me with your new contact information. I love you and your boring, bitter rants. I will see you ASAP, but first I must earn some money because New Guy took me for everything I had.

And, ColorWonder, I'm not moving on. I take it back. I am eating my words as I write this. I don't care that New Guy (unbidden) confirmed my suspicions that you had fallen off the wagon and had been showing up late. I'll see you soon at one and a half hours past my next appointment time. XO


I am healed.
Last week I wrote about some freak-show-worthy swelling. I'd never experienced anything like it. And I am happy to report that it is gone! All gone. Thank Heaven and the exercise I've been trying to do more of. At least I'll pretend that that's what had an effect (the exercise, not Heaven).

onederful monday

It's a onederful Monday because I'm back in Onederland, and it feels just like home. I LIKE it!

198.6, Baby!

Here's my weekly weigh-in log if you're not bored enough already.

no april fooling here

When I started this thing I'm doing, I decided to take my measurements once a month. The beginning was only a few weeks ago (March 12th), but I'm going to measure on the 1st from now on, just because it's an easy-to-remember date. Rent? Check. Measure? Check check.

Anyway, I was tempted, so tempted!, to report a bigger loss in inches than I actually observed because I wanted to be amazing and proud and things like that. I wonder if other bloggers feel this way sometimes. Do people embellish the truth just a little to come off more interesting? It's certainly a little tantalizing because, really, nobody would know. I could Get Away With It and so could you. After all, does it really matter? It's just a blog, for Chrissakes.

But! I also made a decision when I started this thing to be honest and real -- no sugar-coating or embellishment. I'm sure I could spin some fanciful stories that make my life seem far more interesting or more important or better in some way than it actually is. But so far I've succeeded in telling the truth, and I'm not going to let a little thing like a waist measurement spoil my blog integrity. Because if you don't have blog integrity, you don't have much in this world. Heheh.

Anyway, just to be sure that I don't feel tempted again I'm going to post a photo of my tape measure during the actual act of measuring my waist from now on.


That's it right there. And I should be proud. I don't have to embellish to make it seem important. That's a 1.25" loss in my waist in 20 days. (And oh wow! my belly skin look gross that close up.)

It's not a miracle number. It's not going to make people say, Wow! How'd she do that? But it's awesome nonetheless. I could still be at 42". Or worse, I could have grown even bigger. But I haven't. I haven't because I'm taking charge of this body, and I am smaller! I am shrinking! No matter how slow or fast, that is a Good Thing.

Here's a chart of my itty bitty progress so far with all the measurements I'm tracking.

my boyfriend says i'm sexy

I totally stole that line from Rachel, whose mom says she's cool. I was reading her blog today, and I thought, Oh YEAH?! Well, my BOYFRIEND says I'M s-e-x-y. Take THAT, sweet Rachel! Heheh.

All kidding aside, I wrote the title sarcastically, just as I'm sure Rachel wrote hers, but really? It's true (both of our statements are, I'm sure).

My boyfriend, BoyGenius (because, y'all, he really blows my mind sometimes with his smarts. He is more brighter and cleverer than me, even. Heheh. And I LOVE that.), is to be commended. He definitely deserves some props here.

When I met BoyGenius many moons ago, I was wearing somewhere in the vicinity of a size 10. Today, as you see in my sidebar, I'm wearing 18s. Now that's a dramatic change. He should be thinking, THIS?! This is NOT what I signed up for!

And he probably is. In fact, I know he wants me to lose weight and look like I used to and be more active with him and all that. And I think it's only reasonable for him to want that for me. He's thin and healthy and lively, why shouldn't his mate have the same vitality?

But! He's never, ever said an unkind word about my appearance. Sexy? I know I'm not. I have the photos to prove it. Nonetheless, I get told that I am sexy and cute and pretty and irresistable and all sorts of pleasant things like that on a daily basis.

And that, dear reader, is proof that either he is a genius indeed for saying nice things only, or he loves me truly, truly, truly. Either way, I win!