Rash Behavior

Thanks so much to you all who have been so supportive and kind with your comments and concerns. When I started this blog I had no idea I'd reap such benefit from our wonderful online world. What an unexpected blessing! Your words meant so much to me and I thank you again.

The poison ivy is better - relatively speaking. It is still a very angry looking thing and being so squeemish has not helped one little bit. As Shelley said in comments yesterday, the steroids have made me quite zippy - definitely not my usual state of being. Not much sleep last night, the cabinets and cupboards are alphabetized, I washed and waxed the driveway and even had a little time left over to embroider the days of the week on my son's underwear (which, as usual, will probably go unappreciated). Then a quick breakfast of acorns with my slow moving squirrel friends and here I am. Whew - I'd be exhausted now if it weren't for the world of better living through chemicals.

I have spent quite a bit of time on the couch with my legs elevated and have logged way too much TV time. On the plus side, my newest guilty pleasure is Bravo's The Real Housewives of NYC. First of all, there's nothing in the description of "housewife" that I would ever associate with these women: money out the wazoo, houses in the Hamptons, and stilettos before noon. I always thought I'd hate this kind of show but cannot help myself - especially the Bethenny/Kelly smackdown that just won't end!!! Kelly is sooooo high school.

Next up was a little treasure that you dog lovers won't be able to take your tear-filled eyes off. It's a DVD (I don't know how old) called "8 Below" about a team of sled dogs that get left behind in Antarctica and their owner's efforts to rescue them. I didn't think I could love dogs anymore than I already do but this DVD proved me wrong.

Today's viewing will of course include the must-see Oprah interview with Kirstie Alley, who apparently has put back all the weight she so famously lost on Jenny Craig a couple of years ago. My heart goes out to her - I know celebs have many resources that we don't but they are never allowed to fail in private, which must be unbearable. Still, I'm always interested in what makes people tick - there are always so many more lessons from failure than success from my point of view. I hope Op lets her do more of the talking than she usually does. I love O but get frustrated when she talks over the experts who are her guests. However, I wish she had talked all over that sex expert from a couple of weeks ago who suggested (seriously) that moms of teenage girls introduce them to the wonders of vibrators; thus teaching them that they can be responsible for their own sexual satisfaction. I've never had the "pleasure" but did suspect an overly libidinous office receptionist of chipping her tooth on one, but I'm not naming names.

So friends, that's it from steroid town. Time to overhaul the transmission and get those Christmas cards ready.

Turning Bad Times Into Good Behavior - This Time I Mean It

Okay, so no exercising for the past 10 days and I've just been prescribed some fat-enhancing steroids to help with this f-ing poison ivy. Who me, panic? As I watch my fingers turn into those cute little sausage links (actually they're only cute when viewed alongside a yummy calorie-enhanced breakfast) and Ethel and Lucy into the biggest sunny-side-ups ever, I have begun bargaining with God. I will never take for granted my good health again. Once this thing clears up I VOW to use that time productively and will welcome the joy of movement instead of dreading it. I clearly won't make my 200 lb. goal for Mother's Day but don't care at this point. I just want to move without pain again and will use my time wisely and challenge myself to do more instead of less.

Sorry for the whining. I also vow to stop doing that too. Thanks for putting up with my rants.

Monday Monday

I wish there was something new to report but I'm still moving at the speed of a garden slug. This poison ivy on my foot and leg seems to be dissipating but oh so slowly (think the "War and Peace" version of "War and Peace"). In place of my daily walk I am working on my upper arms - the ones that keep waving long after my hand has stopped. You know what I'm talking about. And I've also begun doing crunches again to work on my six pack .... my pudding pack, that is.

I have not even been in the same room as the scale. I am scared to death of what I weigh these days. Once I'm back to normal I'll work out for a few days before looking up my new number. No need to hurry bad news.

Hope you all have a happy Monday.

Does This Rash Make My Ass Look Big?

I only have 25 minutes to post before the dazed and confused teen wants to use the computer so it'll be short.

This week I caught some poison ivy - even though it's not in bloom yet, something left over from last year must've grabbed me and I always have an extreme reaction to it - ever since being a kid. Unfortunately, it's on my left foot and shin and my right thigh (and you thought Twister was just a kids' game!) and so socks and sneakers are out of the question. Rats! It has been a beautiful week weather-wise here but I haven't been able to enjoy it much; walking around like a rest home escapee in my scuffies and rolled-up pant legs with calamine lotion making my chalk-white legs look even milkier than they already are. And the little sprouts of leg hair inbetween the rash add such an elegant touch to this deranged ensemble. Too bad there aren't any hair nets around - that would really complete the look.

I am bummed out beyond belief as I feel my butt growing bigger by the hour and know that there's not much I can do about it. If I can get the boys to leave the house for a while tomorrow maybe I'll try - gulp - Jillian's shred again, only without the sneakers or defribulator. It could get ugly again as I haven't bought a sports bra yet given my limited wardrobe - the mall isn't ready for this level of chic - although I could probably pass for normal at Walmart. I'll keep you posted.

Quality Family Time

While school vacation has begun here the only thing that seems to have taken leave is my sense of humor. This is easily understandable given that in addition to my bored and cranky 13 year old son being home, my husband is also taking the week off and in his wonderful Mr. Fixit mode, is shutting down circuit breakers in the middle of showers, hair drying and laundry. And my computer time is being severely hampered as every time I open up my blog, somebody is looking over my shoulder and now starting to wonder if I'm into porno because I shut the page down the minute I hear them enter the room. The only one in this family who needs to know how much I weigh is me and my spandex. It's a real "Losing-my-mind-apollosa" around here. I actually ran the vacuum cleaner last night to drown out the constant bickering between the two of them. I ran the vacuum - altho I did not actually clean with it, mind you. Real nitty-gritty housecleaning for me comes about as frequently as Halley's Comet and with much more fanfare so you can imagine how desperate the situation is.

Bear with me, friends. I intend on returning to full sarcasm/fun mode once everyone is back where they belong - behind bars.

Musings on a Spring Morning's Walk

What a beautiful day it is today. Bright and sunny with clear blue skies. Currently about 50 degrees, it's supposed to warm up to 70 for the first time this year. Scooby and I took a 45 minute walk around the block and a few things crossed my mind in the process:

- How many calories are in a gnat and how many grams of protein would be in, oh say, the 935 that I inhaled on my walk today?
- How many more days before I have to convert to wearing shorts and shave the leg hair that can be seen from space?
- Is it normal to be panting harder than the dog?
- Has anyone ever thought to measure the impact on the ozone of dog breath?
- Is there any money to be made in mosquito ranching?
- Does this dog leash make my ass look big?

Have a great weekend!

To Hell and Back...Without a Snack

I'm always joking with friends about how my 13 year old son's antics are going to wind us up on the 6:00 news with the State Police Crime Lab van parked on our front lawn and the small gathering of our neighbors telling the reporters how we kept mostly to ourselves but seemed like quiet, nice people. And last night it really almost happened.

After yet another battle over homework yesterday afternoon, my son stormed out of the house and into the woods past our back yard. Hah - he'll be back, I thought, grateful for the sudden quiet and tranquility in my house. An hour and a half passed and it was already 6:30 and he hadn't returned and no one had seen him. I called the police because night was starting to fall and if he were still in those woods it would be a very bad thing. He's stormed off before but always returned shortly after realizing I wasn't running after him. Three squad cars arrived and they talked about setting up a "perimeter" and also made a call for a K9 unit. They also asked me to get something that had his scent on it. I gave them his Elmo doll which he still sleeps with every night and that's when I cracked. What if he's out there by himself all night? Or worse, picked up by someone whose business it is to make little kids disappear? And my last words with him were not exactly loving - how would I ever be able to live with that?

About 45 minutes later, the officer from the K9 unit on his way to our house spotted my son walking along a road about 2 miles from here. As we waited for him to be delivered safely back home, I asked the officer staying with us if the sergeant would have some words for him. Yes, he said, he'll have something to say. Jokingly, I asked if handcuffs would be involved. Keeping his game face on, the officer said no. My husband asked how much it would cost to involve handcuffs. All kidding aside though, it was the most frightening moment of my life and I thank God it turned out okay. Things are back to normal today as mini-me is arguing with me about the terms of his house arrest already. Such is life.

And now that I've almost fully recovered from the shock of yesterday I recall that I never once reached for food during or after. Xanax, crack or glue perhaps, but not food. Maybe my bad behaviors are finally starting to change for the better even if some of ours (mini-me) are changing for the worse (at least until adolescence is over - say, around age 35 at this rate).

Reward System

Good news - I'm down another .8 pounds and have been chip-free since Thursday. Chocolate Easter bunnies and other sweets tried to have their way with me but lost. Hah! I am stronger than any confection.

So, how will I celebrate these most recent accomplishments? I think we all know that in the past it would usually be a close encounter with Papa Gino and a side of cheesecake. There was never such a thing as too much cheese. Fast forward to the present and I've outlined my top 3 rewards for a job well done:

1) Sex
2) Sex
3) Sex with my husband.

Just kidding. I'm married and everybody knows that married people don't have sex - with or without their husbands. And let's face it, after the first couple of weeks, I mean, years of marital bliss, we pretty much stop trying so hard to impress each other anymore. Think about it: there's the snoring, the belching, the gas, the not bothering to shave anymore....and it's really driving my husband crazy.

Okay, so now that sex is off the table (and for those of you where sex is still ON the table - good for you!) I've decided the more appropriate ways to celebrate even the smallest loss or victory might be buying myself some iTunes, a new book, some flowers for the garden or a new lipstick. The only thing that matters is that it isn't edible because that's how I got in this mess in the first place. Food was a multi-purpose emotional tool for me: I ate when I was happy, sad, angry, bored, anxious - pretty much the entire human emotion range.

So what do you do to celebrate your weight loss victories? I'm always looking for new ideas.

Rubbing Salt In That Wound Won't Help

I'm on my way to the grocery store this morning and have a big decision to make. To chip or not to chip? Since food allergies were discovered in January, potato chips were the one thing that somewhat filled the gaping hole in my snack world. And for a while it was like fresh spackle. Now, however, I am retaining water like the Hoover Dam and every once in a while when I add chinese food into the mix, I am contacted by Goodyear as to my availability for the Super Bowl. Enough.

I'll try to fill the void with fruit or veggies now that more of them are coming into season. Or I could just try to sit and figure out why I feel the "need" to stuff my pie hole with anything when I'm not physically hungry. In any event, friends, run for cover....the dam is about to break.

Notes on a Horror Show

Which doesn't belong and why: "Nightmare on Elm Street", "Jaws", or "30 Day Shred with Jillian Michaels"?

The answer of course is "Jaws" because unlike the other two, there were actually a few survivors at the end.

I was looking for something to work into my regular exercise routine of walking and free weights as the number on the scale hasn't budged in a while and I'm just feeling flabby in general. After reading some good buzz about this DVD I went ahead and ordered it. It took me a day or two just to take off the wrapping and stare down Jillian. She scares me a little and I needed to work up a little of my own alpha dog mojo. Today was the day. Alright, Jillian - game on!

Where to start? Well, I guess on a fashion note I would question whether after spending a mere $8.96 for the DVD I really knew Jillian well enough to see that much of her pelvic bone. Back in the day, it was drinks and dinner first. And by the way, you could slice bread with that thing. But I digress.

Who knew that I would even feel challenged when getting down on the matt, which had I known that "shred" could be used interchangeably with "mutilate", I would have upgraded to a gurney. Okay, so you know it doesn't get better from here. Then there was all the jumping, which at age 51 should require a permit. As discussed in my previous post, the Latin term for my condition is "maximus peduli boobi" - big swinging breasts, in the vernacular. I quit the jumping jack segment after the first three when Ethel and Lucy broke free from the program and rang both the front and back doorbells simultaneously. A sturdy sports bra is called for but I haven't yet been able to find any with just that right blend of spandex and titanium. And this is just the stuff I remembered as I went in and out of consciousness.

I completed the 20 minute segment and am amending my living will's DNR (do not resuscitate) clause to exempt this particular DVD. It deserves a second chance. The first time's always the hardest, right? I'll probably try it again only without that silly "How hard could 20 minutes be?" notion in my head.

Big Rack Attack

I have lost a little weight - 16 pounds so far. That's not a bunch but it is certainly moving in the right direction and if I were on some plan other than my own, I would've gained it all back and then some by now.

And nothing reinforces that feeling of becoming smaller than looser fitting clothes and an ease of movement that you haven't enjoyed since 4th grade. All body parts are slightly smaller - except for the girls. "Ethel & Lucy" refuse to go away - in fact, they almost seem to be increasing in size. I'm hoping it's only because everything around them is getting smaller so it's a proportional thing. With all due apologies to my less-endowed friends, be careful what you wish for. Big boobs are not all they're cracked up to be - especially if you're carrying around an extra 40 or 50 pounds. And these aren't you laboratory manufactured, gravity-defying, I-can-pick-up-WiFi, Pam Anderson boobs. These are Mother Nature's own - biscuits and gravy on top of mashed potatoes.

So as they slosh around during exercise like a not yet set Jello mold, tent out every tee shirt I'll ever wear, catch every crumb that's fallen from my lips, and be the world's most effective personal space enforcer, I'll keep on fighting the good fight. The Kabob Squad will endure. I just want them to take up a little less space. Consider it doing my little thing for the planet.