Saturday, July 30, 2011

It started last weekend...

Ok.  You know that whole "get in shape reasonably" thing I was going on about last week?  Yeah.  Um.  Well the week has been rough.

Here is my progress:

Weigh-in:  156 lbs. 

I gained a pound.  But in fairness, I have had three cups of coffee and that's a lot of liquid.

Well, I walked twice.  I also had dessert twice and ate after 9pm once (but it was just an apple so I think it shouldn't count).  Although I THOUGHT about my goals every time I poured a glass of water, I seriously am just not thirsty enough to drink that much liquid throughout the day. 

I am not giving up.  Today I will start again.  I am going to go grocery shopping and plan my meals this week (which I failed to do last week which led to fast food twice and a lot of crap).  I am also going to pick up a Weight Watchers cookbook and see if I can find some good stuff in there to cook so that I don't eat so much cheese (mmmmmm...cheese!).

My other goal this week is to write at least one GOOD post where I am not just bitching about what a miserable fat ass I am. 

For now though, just watch this.  If all dessert looked like these, I would have no problem avoiding it.

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Blogger is an asshole

To my blogger friends who use Blogger:

I want to comment on your posts.  I go there and I read them and laugh and think of the perfect comment...then I can't comment.

Basically, Blogger doesn't recognize me (even when I try to comment on my own blog) and so it asks me to log in.  When I try to do that I get an error message.

Now, I know it isn't my computer because I recently got a NEW laptop and it is still doing it.  And I also know that some of you are wondering why you have 0 or very few comments.  Well, this is why.

The only way I can post comments is if the blog allows anonymous comments and allows me to put in my name/URL instead of requiring me to log in.

Go fix that shit girls.  Then go look at my post about how sucking is awesome because I tried to notify all the people I gave it to that I gave it to them but basically all but 2 were Blogger blogs that wouldn't allow me to comment.

Blogger is a whore.


Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Where else would I vent

Being poor sucks.  Seriously.  Being poor but not poor enough to qualify for State health insurance is even worse.  Because it forces you to have to do stupid things for medical care.

I have been going to a community health center. 

When I first went there I was happy I found it because I was really sick and I wouldn't have to mortgage my kid to get some antibiotics.  Granted, it is in a terrifying part of town and filled with people who smell bad and look worse, but it was cheap and these were actual real doctors who were willing to see me without an up front cash payment.

But as time has gone on, the gratefulness has worn off.  I am pretty sure they have no idea what they are doing and I am not getting anything close to decent health care.

I have Major Depression.  I have been struggling with it on and off for most of my life and in the last 6 months I have been especially dragged down and lethargic.  I am medicated but it isn't working and the waiting list for the Psychiatrist at the health center is (literally) 10 months. 

I have been getting my prescription needs met by a very nice but extremely young (he may not be legal) Physicians Assistant that we will call Aaron. 

My doctor.
Aaron is terrified of me because he knows absolutely NOTHING about psychiatric medications and I have a long and tumultuous history with them.  When I first went to him, I was having withdrawals because I had run out of my meds while waiting for my mail-order supply to come from Canada (yes, it's legal).  And he was happy to write me the script. 

The next time he saw me, I told him that the drugs that I was on weren't working and he upped the dosage.  The next time he added something else to the mix.  He has tested me for Thyroid problems and Anemia and finally today I told him that he has to prescribe me something else because this shit is NOT working for me and I can't be lethargic and miserable all day every day because I am going to lose my family and my job like this.

So, he nervously agrees to put me BACK on a high dosage of Prozac until I can get into the Psychiatry department where I only have about 4 months left to wait. 

But here's the thing.  He wants me OFF the shit I am on entirely before I start the minimal dosage of the Prozac.  I told him this is a huge mistake.  I told him that I will not survive the transition if my previous experience of going off the meds is any indication of the potential for problems.  He told me that he has to be cautious and that there is no other way.  I told him that as someone who has been through the transition, I know that this is dangerous and I will likely end up at the very least traumatizing my kid and losing my job and in the most likely situation will end up hospitalized.  He told me to come back in 6 weeks and to call him if I have any problems, which is easier said than done because when you call there you essentially just get transferred around until you end up on a line that rings forever.

When I went to make my 6 week follow up appointment, the girl gives me a date exactly 2 months from today.  I say to her, "that's more than 6 weeks," to which she replies, "well it's two months...and there's 3 weeks in a month.".

"No, there's 4 weeks in a month, and July and August are long months," I reply.

She gives me this look like she is going to slap me and says, "there's 3 weeks in a month...give or take." 

What the hell am I supposed to say to that?  So I shut up and take my appointment card knowing that I am getting bad advice from my doctor and that the staff is stupid and incompetent. 

I don't feel good about this at all.  What the fuck am I supposed to do? 

Then there's this:

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Because Sucking is AWESOME

So the other day I am perusing my favorite Blog Attracted to Shiny Things (because I stalk it for new laughs all the time) and I see that she has been awarded this:

And all I can think is, "THAT BITCH!  I want that Goddamned icon on MY page.  Maybe I will just steal it and say someone gave it to me."  But as I read further down I saw something fucking incredible. 

 Not only did she give it to me (along with 9 other bloggers) but I was the FIRST which means that I am the best (I am feeling really humble today obviously).

So in order to claim my award, which I intend to do right now, I have to tell you "7 DEEP things about me" which is easy because some days I just LOVE to talk about myself, and pass it along to 10 awesome bloggers (harder because I have been stalking Attracted to Shiny Things so hard that I have barely read any other blogs in the last few weeks...)

Deep Things:

1. Although I have upwards of 400 friends on the Facebook, I have a mysteriously absent social life.  Seriously.  I don't know what happened to all my real life friends, but since I moved back to Upstate New York 3 years ago, I have had only a few outings that involved anyone other than my kid and her father.  Perhaps I should be spending less time on the Facebook.

2. Just when I had gotten to the point where I didn't care that I was overweight, I outgrew my fat clothes.  Now I have to lose weight.  I was okay with not being skinny.  I was.  I went out and spent some money on big-girl sized clothes and was like "fuck it."  Because in truth, I like chocolate cake WAY more than I liked being tiny-sized.  So I accepted it and moved on.  But apparently my ass didn't get the message that I was perfectly comfortable in a size 14.  Because it thinks that a 16 or 20 would be more comfortable.  Which would be fine, I guess.  But I truly cannot afford to go and buy any more clothes.  So the cake will have to wait.

That's me on the right.
3. I used to date a con man who maintained that I was the only person he ever told the truth to.  Back when I was kid, I had a little boyfriend and he had a little brother.  The little brother grew up to be super hot and charming and I totally fell for him.  Then he moved away and I carried that torch until a few years later when we met up again and I fell all over again.  But something wasn't right.  He acted really suspiciously all the time.  He changed phone numbers and addresses all the time.  He was incredibly unreliable.  For example, we would have plans for the weekend and I would confirm this with him on Friday.  Then Saturday he would fail to show up but Sunday morning he would call me from South Carolina and explain that "the Feds" showed up so he had to take off for a few days. "The Feds" came up ALL THE TIME.  My friend and I used to laugh about it because we thought he just had a girlfriend or something and so I ended up basically writing him off.  But a few weeks later I saw on the local news that they had caught one of his best friends who was wanted in like 7 states for fraud and assorted scams and realized that all these places his friend was wanted were places he had called me from (as confirmed on my phone bill).   The friend went to prison for a really long time but never ratted.  He managed to run from the Feds for another 8 years before he was let go on a technicality just recently.  He's still fucking amazingly hot.

4. This is really hard.  If I was just giving you random facts I would be able to do this, but "DEEP THINGS?"  What the hell Yvonne?

5. I am a really shitty housekeeper.  I hate cleaning and I have a 4 year old running around so you see how this is a problem.  I never understood those people who get a rush from cleaning and organizing because I get the opposite.  Cleaning drains me.  It makes me want to die. Not to say my house is FILTHY.  I clean.  But I don't do all the maintenance stuff as often as I should (I refuse to clean toilets more than once a week and I force Ben to scrub the tub which only happens maybe once a month) but it gets done eventually.  And I refuse to pick up Lila's crap more than once a day so generally shit stays strewn all over the house until she goes to bed at night.  And don't get me started about the inside of my car.

6. I don't really believe in God but I believe in Serendipity.  I was raised Catholic and always had a hard time swallowing the whole "God will punish you" thing because it just seemed that God had better things to do than watch teenagers masturbate or monitor my every thought for covetousness.  So I stopped believing.  But I never stopped believing that there is some kind of master plan and that everything happens for a reason.  Not that we don't make our own choices.  We do.  And we go horribly off path.  But in the end we always end up where we need to be.

7. I was afraid that my kid was going to destroy my shitty attitude and bad ass reputation.  Instead she gave me more shit to be pissed about.  But she also made me a total dork.  You know how old people never listen to new music until it's on a commercial?  Well, that's me.  I also dress the same as I did like 10 years ago, totally oblivious to trends and can't be bothered with makeup most days.  Congratulations Lila for making me totally lame.

I am working on bringing this look back.

OK.  Now the hard part:

I hereby bestow the Blog on Fire Award to the following bloggers:

1. Tails of Motherhood

2. Pooping in Peace

3. People I Want to Punch in the Throat

4.  OK in UK

5. 39 for the First Time

6. Bad Words

7. Just Plain Jayne

8. Taking it On

9. Adventures in Mommyhood

10. Shanimal's Crackers

Sunday, July 24, 2011

Sunday Stealing

Who doesn't love talking about themselves?  That's why I love SUNDAY STEALING

1. Tell us about something that made you laugh last night.
I watched Russel Brand in Arthur.  I love him for some reason even though he is mostly just really drunk.

2. What were you doing at 8 PM last night?
Laying with Lila trying to get her to stay still for 45 seconds so she would fall asleep. Because if she stays still for just a few seconds she's out.

3. What were you doing 30 minutes ago?
Watching some crap on PBS

4. What happened to you in 2006? (Feel free to republish an old post from '06.)

5. What was the last thing you said out loud?
Leave me alone.

6. How many beverages did you have today?
like 4 cups of coffee and three glasses of water.

7. What color is your hairbrush?

8. What was the last thing you paid for?
I pay for my decision to have a kid EVERY MOMENT OF THE DAY!

9. Where were you last night?
Home.  At least that's my alibi.

10. What color is your front door?
White.  Lila wants to paint it purple.  I say WE SHOULD DO IT!

11. Where do you keep your change?
Mostly in the couch cushions

12. What’s the weather like today?
Hot but breezy.  Much nicer than yesterday.

13. What’s the best ice-cream flavor?
The BEST?  Coffee, because it's the best idea ever.  My favorite?  Chocolate Chip.

14. What excites you?
Nothing lately. I need something.

15. Do you want to cut your hair?
No.  I did it a few months ago and I hate it just as much as I did before I did it.

16. Are you over the age of 35?
No.  Not yet.

17. Do you talk a lot?
Sometimes.  I tend to talk loudly.  It makes up for my lack of saying anything useful.

18. Do you watch Franklin and Bash?

19. Do you know anyone named Steven?
No.  But I have a girl friend called Steve.

20. Do you make up your own words?
Not usually.  Unless I am drunk. 

21. Are you a jealous person?
Yes. Extremely.  I am even jealous of you for getting to read this instead of type it.

22. What does the last text message you received say?
I can't say it here.  It will incriminate me.

23. Where’s the next place you’re going to?
Bed hopefully. 

24. Who’s the rudest person in your life?
My kid.  But she's four and she's learning.

25. Are you crushing on anyone that you shouldn't be?
Only Satan and an unnamed con man.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

It Starts Today

I suck at self-motivation.  Seriously.  I have found that I always want the cookie or Frappuccino more than I want a hot body in that moment and I almost always pick NAP over EXERCISE when I have an hour to myself. 

But here's the thing.  I can't afford to buy any more fat clothes.  And the ones I have are growing tight.  It's time to face what I have been dreading.

In my mind I look like this:

But in reality I look more like this:

I am afraid to step on the scale but here goes:

155 lbs.  Shit. 

I am joining Wacky Jacqui in her fitness quest and will be posting weekly about my progress. 

Here are my basic goals. I am an underachiever and believe that I should aim low and not be put off by my lack of results so here goes:
  • I want to be about 135 lbs so I have 20 lbs to lose.
  • I will walk for 30 minutes 3 times a week AND for 15 minutes on my lunch breaks (3 days a week).
  • If I go out to eat (which we seem to do a lot in the summer) I will take half my entree home because the portions are always too big. And NO DESSERT.
  • NO eating after 8pm.  We always eat dinner early and there is no reason to snack at bedtime.
  • 8-10 glasses of water per day. 
  • More Fruits and Veggies
  • Less ice cream.
Truly, if I can just start to feel less lethargic, that is enough for me. 

Anyone want to join up?  I will be posting my progress on Fitness Fridays and would love if some of you joined us.


Thursday, July 21, 2011

DRIVING me crazy

There are hundreds of things I miss from my pre-Mommy days.  I miss my body.  I miss making spontaneous plans.  I miss being able to leave the house without 2 hours of preparation and planning.  But there is one thing that I am reminded of nearly every single day, and every day I miss it more and more.

I miss being able to zone out and think while driving. 

Have you ever tried to concentrate on the road in a construction area where there is no shoulder and cars are merging in front and behind you with a 4 year old in the back seat?  Do you have any idea how nerve racking that is?

Actual conversation that took place in heavy traffic yesterday:

Kid: Mommy, what day is it?
Me: It's Tuesday. 
Kid: Is it Tuesday?
Me: Yes.  Today is Tuesday.
Kid: I think it's Wednesday. 
Me: No.  It's Tuesday.  Trust me.
Kid: Is it going to be Thursday tomorrow? 
Me:  No.  It's going to be Wednesday because today is Tuesday.
Kid: No it isn't Tuesday, it's Wednesday.
Me:  Ok... Then you're right.
Kid: Is tomorrow Friday or Thursday. 
Me: Tomorrow will be WEDNESDAY.
Kid: No tomorrow isn't Wednesday. 
Me: Yes it is.
Kid: Today is Wednesday. 
Me: No it isn't.
Kid: It's Wednesday and tomorrow is Thursday.
Me: OK.  Let's play a game and see who can be quiet longer!
(6 seconds go by)
Kid: Mommy, what day is today?
I have begged for quiet.  I have tried to make a game of it.  I have turned up the music to drown her out (which just makes her scream that it's too loud and that she has a headache).  I have explained that Mommy needs to concentrate and just needs to not have to answer any more questions while I am driving.  Nothing works.

What makes it worse is that she also constantly critiques my driving.
Why are you going so slow? 
Why did you hit that bump? 
Are we going to crash? 
Why don't you go around that guy? 
I should be thankful that she is so curious about the world. I should be glad that she feels she can talk to me. Because I know that before I know it there will be slammed bedroom doors and refusals to listen. But JESUS CHRIST, can I just have a few quiet minutes in the car when I need it???

Friday, July 15, 2011

Mean Evil Morning Mommy

Every morning it is exactly the same thing.  Lila gets up and goes downstairs and a few minutes later I come clomping exhaustedly down the same stairs barely awake and heavy with sleep and Lila comes RUNNING to me excitedly trying to jump up onto me for a hug as if we had been apart for the length of a prison sentence or something.

Most times I barely catch her and she throws herself at one leg contentedly rubbing the side of her face against me as I struggle to keep my balance.  I pay her no mind as I limp steadily to the kitchen to make myself coffee.  I admit it - My cup of coffee is the only thing that makes me capable of putting up with the absurd amount of streaming energy that the kid has first thing in the morning.

I remember KNOWING that I was not allowed to ask my mother for ANYTHING until she had a few minutes to sit down with her cup of coffee and have a few sips in peace.  I knew it.  I understood that if I did ask for anything I would get a response like this:

That's my mother before her morning coffee.

I just KNEW far back as I remember.  So why is it that MY kid, as whip smart as she is, feels the need to help me start my day with demands for 10 different cartoons, none of which are on right now and specific pieces of cereal with a certain very measured amount of milk, when I can barely function enough to remember to flush the toilet?  Have I not traumatized her enough to make her understand that Mommy needs her coffee first?  Do I have to turn into this EVERY morning:

Because no matter how many times I say nicely "just give Mommy a few minutes to wake up" I get the same whining and complaining and demanding which always turns me into the evil Mommy who won't feed her child. 

Is it wrong that I just need like 15 minutes?  Seriously.  Just long enough to brew a pot of coffee, sit down have like 5 sips so that I can be more like this:

Tuesday, July 5, 2011


Today I am going to talk to you about my boobs.  Not that I think you want to know, but because I need to vent and this is my place to do that and so I am doing it.

I remember a day not so long ago when I loved my boobs.  Really.  I did.  As a younger, less self-conscious girl, I often thought my boobs were my nicest feature and although small they were perfectly round, symmetrical and perky. 

I loved my boobs so much I would sometimes get drunk and feel the need to show them to the whole bar!  (Yup, I was THAT chick). 

I remember that I was always dressing them up in pretty bras and cute tops that showed them just right so that they would feel how incredibly special and appreciated they were, because I knew that age (and someday possibly motherhood) would take their toll.

When I got pregnant I cried because I knew that it would likely ruin my boobs forever.  The prospect of them getting bigger was truly exciting for me, but I was totally disgusted by the idea of anything coming out of them, because up to this point, they were not functional.  THEY WERE DECORATIVE.  And I liked them that way.  I was up for breastfeeding, but knew I wasn't going to be one of those mothers who stressed about it.  If the kid took to it (and they worked properly) I would do it and if not, I had no real problem with giving her a bottle.  But secretly, I think I hoped she wouldn't take to it because I dreaded the long stretched-out look that so many women ended up with after a year or so of having someone sucking at those things.

Finally the baby came, and although she seemed to have no problem tearing into my boobs and getting her fill from them, the scabbing and pain (which the breastfeeding lady couldn't seem to fix for me) was more than I was willing to deal with in the days after having my entire mid-section opened and a baby pulled out of there.  So I opted out.  And then the milk came in.  I was thrilled the day I looked in the mirror and saw this:

My boobs when the milk came in.
But they hurt like a bitch.  Good thing I wasn't breastfeeding and could take a ton of the pain killers I had left over from my c-section to dull that shit.  But that was temporary and within a year, everything was more or less back to normal except flatter and wider. 

This was not ideal, but I had a healthy (if not ill-tempered) baby girl to show for it and I had lost most of the weight without too much stressing. And honestly, stepping into the "Mommy" role made me totally uninterested in the state of my boobs, or the rest of my body for that matter.  I HAD GROWN A PERSON INSIDE ME FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!  What man could make THAT kind of claim?

For a couple of years I fell into that trap of not really bothering to shave my legs or trim the lawn or any of the other basic maintenance items that had been a total preoccupation for my younger, always-dating self.  I put on weight, which made my boobs fill out again and under the right tee shirt with the right bra, they totally looked bigger, better and more awesome than ever!

But the other day I was getting into the shower and for some odd reason (probably because it's bathing suit season again) I stopped in front of the full-length mirror naked and looked.  This is what I saw:

My boobs at the nude beach

One was considerably bigger and the other was facing the wrong way!  My nipples have slipped downward and they hang more to the side than the front now!  I can only blame age and gravity (because I am NOT going to offend the several bowls of ice cream I enjoy each month) and can only imagine that this is normal and that most women have some kind of similar experience.

I felt betrayed.  I mean, my boobs were like my buddies.  I counted on them for a boost in self image when everything else failed me.  Bad hair day?  At least I have nice boobs!  Face breaking out?  My boobs sure look full today!  Period cramps?  At least my boobs look fantastic!  And now that's all gone.  What the hell am I going to do with them now?  I can't sell them.  No one would want them.  And I can't keep them covered up all the time (although I may try).  I suppose I could have implants and/or a nip/tuck kind of thing to yank them up to my chin but who the hell has the cash for that.

I suppose that in the end I will just have to accept that we had a good run and that the glory days of fantastic breasts are behind us. We went on many b-cup sized adventures together and I sure will miss the good old days of using you to seal the deal when I want to get backstage at a concert or just need some confidence for a date.   I just hope I can stop getting choked up whenever I see a KFC ad.

All photos were the result of google searches.

Monday, July 4, 2011

Sunday Stealing: The MONDAY Bonus Holiday Meme

Cheers to all of us thieves!

1. If the moon were to be mistaken for a celebrity, who would it be?

2. What's a ghost to you?
Something that lives in my past that sneaks up on me once in a while.

3. If you had to do anything with your sworn enemy, what would it be?

4. Oh no, Marge Simpson got kidnapped by aliens! What do you say to the aliens to get her back?
Bleep glarb bleeb leege. (Alien for "She doesn't exist.  Take Britney Spears instead")

5. Have you ever had lunch together with your neighbor?
No but when we first moved in my neighbor cooked us an awesome dinner and brought it over to us.

6. If you had to pick your own personal theme song, what would it be?
Cheap and Evil Girl by Bree Sharpe

7. Describe what's sexy to you.
Nice forearms, tattoos and the ability to admit when they're wrong.
Not so much that tattoo, though

8. A vampire suddenly knows all your secrets. What do you do?
Nothing.  I don't have any good secrets.

9. If you had to have a role in a movie, what kind of character would you prefer to play?
I'd be the villian. for sure.

10. You have to read a coworker's (or friends) very personal diary. You pick the person. Who is it and why?
Oh Christ.  I really don't want to know anything about the 80 year old ladies at work.  Seriously.  I hear them complain enough already.  I don't need that kind of ticket into the workings of their minds.