Still a Little Steamed

The weather has gone from hot and humid for the past month to cool and crisp today - but I'm still a little steamed.

As I'm sure you're aware, any time you order something online, you are then on a lifetime mailing list of catalogs that chew up about 34% of the rain forest. They're all over you like a cheap suit, like white on rice, like a dog on a pork chop, like a....well, you get the idea. During my quest to find a plus size bathing suit earlier this year (to dismal results), I ordered - and later returned - a bathing suit from let's say "Plus 'R Us" (completely fictional - but hey, I might be on to something here). Anyway, they claim their catalogs cater to women of size 14W to 44W and YET.....all the models in said catalog are no larger than a size 6 and are positively swimming in the clothes. And it's a pretty fair bet that if they have a catalog for misses sizes, they aren't employing plus size ladies to model them. Safe to say I won't be ordering from them again.

Hello - retailers? We've had our share of misunderstandings with you in the past - clothes constructed of crappy, petroleum-based material, sparkles and Disney characters affixed to same, women's departments the size of a closed fist, anything with a size W after it is always on the lowest shelf. Oh yes, you've had your fun with us and don't think we aren't keeping track, because we are. But really, Marketing 101 tells you that when you're trying to attract a particular group of people, it's best to use one of their own - not their polar opposites. You don't have nuns swilling beer, Evel Kneivel selling insurance, Bernie Madoff endorsing stocks or dogs humping cat food (unless, of course, that cat food is shaped like a human leg).

Do you think we wouldn't notice or that we're dumb enough to be tricked into thinking that if we bought those carnival clothes from you, we'd look like a size 6 too? We may be fat but we're not stupid. Stupid is what this marketing campaign is and while we may be overweight, we're doing something about it. However, as the saying goes, stoopid is forever.

What's Up Doc?

Well, my doctor friend/tennis buddy is at it again. Lately it seems that whenever the temperature hovers around 90 (which has been the past 3 weeks or so) and the humidity exceeds all civilized levels, that's always the time she calls to set up a match. I bagged out last week but if I bag out too much she'll find a new tennis buddy - and I can't let that happen. So we're on for this evening at 6:00. The mosquitoes have already made their dinner reservations for the same hour at court 4. As I am the larger and slower moving of the two of us, I will be the main course - unless sweat and massive BO act as a repellent. Film at 11. At least if I stroke out she can tend to me while we wait for the paramedics.

I have been working out even harder than before since being told of the hiatal hernia. I had hubby look up the causes and resolutions online as I'm far too suggestible to read medical documentation of any kind - always assuming that I have every side effect listed. I keep forgetting - does suggestibility imply intelligence or inbreeding? Anyway, hubby's findings back up what the doctor's office told me: the FAT from my abdominal area has pushed organs and other bits to places where they don't belong. If I lose the FAT, everything should return to their normal positions. Just great - a chinese fire drill going on in my GI tract.

I have also been keeping my eating at night to a bare minimum as acid reflux is another spin-off of this lovely condition. Maybe it will help speed the weight loss along. I have been stuck at just above 200 for eons and really want to break through to the 190s in the worst way. I have also decided to weigh myself once a month - at the end of the month - so as not to lose focus from a bad number or improperly calibrated scale (usually the latter).

Hope you all had a great weekend. Happy Monday!

Greetings From the "Me First" State

I don't know about you but I function much more efficiently when I'm in a good mood. This, unfortunately, runs contrary to the part of the country in which I live. The South is known for their hospitality, the West for their laid-back approach toward life, the Midwesterns are just plain nice as can be.....and then there's the Northeast; New England in particular.

While we pride ourselves on having a lot of smart people doing a lot of smart things at some of the world's best universities, hospitals and businesses, this does not always equate to a well-developed sense of the world beyond the end of our noses. Hence the phrase "book smart". I should mention that I do NOT consider myself in that crowd. I'm the rare friendly New Englander who just barely graduated college with a degree in Finance and a PhD in honkin' good times. I was brought up in the unassuming southeastern part of Connecticut - not the Gold Coast that is Greenwich and New Canaan; playgrounds of the rich and famous. Oh no - we're not like that at all. We're much more modest and polite. But when I moved to the outskirts of Boston, all bets were off.

I like to think that if our state had a motto (other than the lame-o Latin variety that I'm sure already exists), it would be "Me First" - and that's only because "Get the F*ck out of my way, you lowlife gravy-sucking pig" wouldn't fit on the state seal. Aside from my cirlce of friends, I find the common Masshole variety rather rude and pushy on a very consistent basis and quite the damper to my normally sunny disposition (cough).

Enter the "NCV" - the Non-confrontational Victory - sort of like our favorite NSV (non-scale victories) in terms of pride of accomplishment and yet it is defensive and preventive in nature. Allow me to demonstrate.

1) (Preventive) You've been shopping at a wholesale store and are using the self-checkout lane. The woman behind you clearly thinks her time is more important than yours and starts ringing up her order before you've finished getting your stuff off the belt and safely into the carriage. Her palette of Diet Coke is about to crush your dozen of eggs. Solution: make the last item you ring up something the next person in line wouldn't want her stuff to be touching - drain cleaner, fertilizer, adult diapers, leaky chicken package. You get the picture.

2) (Defensive) The tailgating loser with the small penis and fancy sports car is right on your ass. Road rage in Massachusetts is a particularly virulent blood sport. The old school method of braking suddenly does not always have the desired outcome, such as rear-end collisions. Solution: spray your windshield with washer fluid as your car is in motion. This drives the aforementioned loser apeshit - especially the BMW drivers - as your afterwash is now all over his fancy sports car. I become almost faint with glee as I see him pull his Sham-Wow from his glove compartment as he looks for a field of clover in which to pull over.

It's all about staying positive because that's what gets results and keeps you in the game. Anybody out there have their own NCVs to share?

Thank You!

I was fortunate enough to receive this Lovely Blog award from my friend V yesterday and thank her for thinking of me. I'm supposed to share the love with 15 other bloggers but just can't narrow it down so please visit any of the wonderful bloggers I have highlighted along the left margin here and you won't be disappointed. Thanks again, V. The journey's so much more fun with people like you along for the ride.

Sky High Dilemma

Reading about Shelley's exciting upcoming Hawaiian vacation had me reminiscing about my honeymoon there 19 years ago when I weighed a scant 140 pounds - for probably the first time since kindergarten. (Once the honeymoon was literally over, however, I took the approach of "once you've caught the bus you can stop running" and packed on about 80-90 pounds: the souvenir that keeps on giving.)

My husband and I were about to take a helicopter tour of Kauai and while we were waiting for the other couple who would be joining us, I took the opportunity to use the ladies room. I returned to the lobby and it looked like we were ready to go as the other couple had arrived. Before the sun comes the rain and my husband took me aside and explained while I was in the ladies room, he had to list how much we weighed so that the weight could be evenly distributed in the helicopter to avoid any problems in flight. "I put you down for 120 pounds," he said. "Is that about right?", he asked as he tip-toed through the minefield now and forever known as "my wife's weight". What's a girl to do: 'fess up and play by the rules or die with a smile on my face?

52

While I was away on vacation (and many thanks for all your good wishes) I turned 52. I don't feel anywhere close to being that old but my graying hair and sporty new moustache are telling me otherwise. I thought I'd share 52 things about myself (it is SO all about me, isn't it?) that maybe shouldn't see the light of day but here goes:

1) I am fiercely loyal.

2) I am shy to the point of appearing aloof until I get to know you - then hilarity ensues.

3) My favorite season is fall.

4) Being half Sicilian (from the waist up), I can hold a grudge like it's an Olympic event.

5) I love dogs.

6) I love walking barefoot.

7) The beach is my favorite place on earth.

8) I used to listen to Barry Manilow in college without being drunk or stoned.

9) I think common courtesy has become uncommon (sigh).

10) I can swear like a longshoreman.

11) I'm generally more comfortable in the company of men.

12) I'm sarcastic as hell - but in a nice way.

13) I'm incredibly impatient.

14) I used to be what I thought others wanted me to be but now I could give a shit.

15) I feel I've wasted too much of my life being afraid of things.

16) I would never be friends with a woman who couldn't drop the occasional f-bomb.

17) I wish I had taken a different career path out of college and now fear it's too late.

18) I worry that I'll never figure out what I was put on this earth for.

19) I love collecting inspirational quotes.

20) I'm scared to death of spiders and snakes.

21) I'll stop whatever I'm doing if "Jaws" is on TV.

22) I love hearing my son laugh.

23) My favorite actors are Gene Hackman and Robert Deniro.

24) I love playing tennis.

25) I'll never forgive my sister.

26) I thought I had the best childhood ever.

27) I wish I were more spiritual.

28) I love to shop for books but clothes shopping is a chore.

29) I love to hear Italian spoken.

30) I wonder why I'm keeping myself so fat.

31) I don't understand why people become less fun the older they get.

32) I love anything written by David Mamet, James L. Brooks or Jane Austen.

33) I love good comedy - Steve Martin, Billy Crystal, Dana Carvey, Monty Python

34) I love "Amazing Grace" on the bagpipes.

35) I'm surprised at how overly entitled my generation seems to have become.

36) I finally realized that critical people are very insecure.

37) I never expected to like blogging so much and meet such great people doing it.

38) I'm a big sports fan.

39) During my (very) single days, my gay boss offered to set me up if I'd only switch teams.

40) I still rely too much on other people's reactions to me.

41) My dream job would be to work with Tina Fey or Kathy Griffin.

42) I appreciate kindness and humor.

43) I love any of the Hostess snack cakes.

44) I love severe weather as long as I'm safe at home.

45) I need to challenge myself more.

46) I am in awe of the people who serve in the military.

47) I'm getting better at not having to have the last word.

48) I wish I were more spontaneous.

49) I love that my husband works and plays so hard.

50) I love making my father laugh.

51) I miss my mother.

52) I had a tough time using "I" so much.

Vacation Time

Of course we're not in Kansas anymore, Toto - it's vacation time and we're going to the Cape. Woo hoo!

I truly need the vacation and hope the time away will re-charge my blogging battery. In the meantime, here are just a few suggestions of the many wonderful blogs I check in with that you might enjoy (if you don't already).

For information on the whole fitness thing, there are none better than Cranky Fitness and Miz.

For best-friend feeling and boon companions, check out Patty, Tina, Shelley, H.K. and Big Girl.

For passing-liquids (and some partially chewed food for the nasally enhanced among us)-through-your-nose funny, you can't go wrong with Jack Sh*t.

Summer reading at it's best! See you all in 10 days.

Have Mercy

So it's 9:00 and I'm getting a bit of a late start on my workout because the teen is back home again from boy scout camp. (Please note: postings will be erratic as long as he is in a 10 mile radius to the computer and the haz mat crews are coming in and out of the house to help sanitize the camp locker.) So off I go on my newest gym friend, the elliptical. The gym's already a little crowded so I take the elliptical at the very end of the row, against the wall. The row in front of the ellipticals is comprised of bikes but hardly anyone uses them - until this morning.

A pretty young thing and her buzz-cut muscular boyfriend saddle up on the bikes in front of me. The pretty young thing is having muscle boy show her how to work it (press on pedals - repeat in circular motion - continue as desired. Don't want to overload the circuits on the first day). He is decked out in a muscle tee shirt with "insane blah-blah-blah posse" written on the back. She is wearing (mostly) a black lacey bra somewhat surrounded by a police-do-not-cross-yellow-tape colored tank top. Her ta-tas are reminiscent of Desi Arnez pounding on his famous Cuban bongos, belting out "Babaloo" and even the casual onlooker is getting quite a show. I, however, am front row center (not of my choosing) and would desperately like my money refunded.

Lady Tata takes the bike directly in front of me when I notice the bright white thin jersey boxers with the turned down waistband that are posing as workout pants. Former plumbers I have employed in their squat positions have me fully prepared for the lastest generation's version of "butt crack". I am holding my breath as I do NOT want to have to see anyone's butt crack right in front of me. I feel like that character in "A Clockwork Orange" with his eyes taped open: I just cannot avoid this view. I notice next that it appears she's going commando as well although I am far from being able to confirm outright; some self-preservation skills are still functioning through this visual assault. They begin pedaling and flirting, flirting and pedaling and then - mercifully - they're done. Ellie Mae and Jethro are off to their meeting with Bob Guccione and/or Abacrombie & Fitch.

Dispensing with all other forms of gym etiquette, these two leave without having cleaned off their machines. I'm just about to call the Board of Health as Lady Tata almost surely must be reprimanded for her commando tactics and Lord only knows what's going on under his camouflage crops. I mean, come on, at least use some deli paper if you're not going to clean things off. But I am satisfied at this point that they have moved on and are providing some other gym member a good story for the dinner table tonight. School is less than a month away. There is an end in sight - only a good one this time.