Fill 'Er Up or Coast On Fumes?

Does anybody know - or at least feel like throwing out an educated guess - whether it's a good or bad thing to exercise before eating breakfast? I mean, is it like driving down the highway with a flat tire or driving down the highway in a sleek, aerodynamic car? I do eventually eat breakfast as I am of the tribe of No Skipping Meals (I do so love to eat) so I'm not talking about going off the reservation in terms of eating. Geez, I'd pretty much have to stop breathing before I ever stopped eating.

Anyway, I read somewhere (could've been a comic book) that exercising before food burns more calories faster because there's nothing in your stomach for your metabolism to metabolize - sort of like being in some nitrous state I guess. What do you all think: tank empty or tank full?

Healthy Lifestyle, My Ass!

Safety alert: there is nothing wrong with my ass. Except that it is too big. It isn't as big as it was a year ago but that seems to count for donuts (mmmm....donuts). Or at least that's the impression my doctor gave me over the phone as she was telling me that the result of the barium swallow x-ray was that I have a mild hiatal hernia and reflux. All can be made good again by taking another med and "losing weight". Bitch. Bitch in a white coat who's never had a weight problem in her life. You could've lessened the blow by saying "lose more weight" but noooo, why encourage Little Lotta?

Call me crazy but a long time ago when I smoked 2 packs of cigarettes a day, I was the picture of health. All the trouble got started when I quit. The old axiom really is true: winners never quit and quitters never win. So I quit smoking and got married and you all know how the other saying goes - once you've caught the bus, you can stop running - and promptly put on about 80 pounds. Since reaching my peak of 229 a couple of years ago I got myself off the meds that had the crazy side-effect of weight gain (which little miss white coat never mentioned at the outset-bitch squared!) and started cultivating a "healthier lifestyle" - and it's been nothing but trouble since then. Since losing about 26 pounds overall I thought I'd start seeing some benefits healthwise. But my varicose veins are worse, I'm still on statins, still have sleep apnea and now this hernia deal and all I ever hear is "lose weight". Okay, I'm doing that but apparently not fast enough. My concern now is that at this rate I'll get to my goal weight some day and be told that I have a month to live.

Okay, my rant's over and if you think for one second I'm going to let this unappreciative doc get the best of me and I'll start comforting myself with Little Debbie and Big Gulp, you'd be wrong. It's on!! I'll see you in the examing room in January, girl, and I'll be bringing it. Prepare to be awed.

We Interrupt This Blog...

Well friends, here is the stump of the summer I've been dreading where I'm acquiring a nasty sunburn on my scalp because I've pulled out every hair on my head. Yes, the teen is home all this week and the first week in August so I will probably be incommunicado for much of it. I did not have the foresight to invest in a laptop so my access to this lone computer is severely compromised - not to mention my mental health. And even if I did get a good chunk of time to write, my attention span is the consistency of swiss cheese and I could not form a complete thought or coherent topic if my life depended on it. (In just writing this single paragraph I have been interrupted three- nope, make that four- times for issues I have already addressed with him - chores, homework, pet care - or his constant state of hunger in which his arms seemed to have suffered some bizarre form of paralysis that makes it impossible for him to access the fridge or cabinets himself. Oh, he's good - the old Chinese water torture technique - the constant drip, drip, drip of whining and complaining which is almost guaranteed to make me surrender unconditionally.) Who's a happier homemaker than me? I feel like I'm channeling Sue Ann Nivens.

I'll do my best to keep up with reading your entries as I marvel at your abilities to form thoughts and put them into words. I hope to rejoin the living soon.

It's F-ing Good For You

After years of working with men I acquired a bit of a nasty habit: swearing like a sailor (with all due apologies to sailors - they are no match for Wall Street types when the market is eating its young and they haven't had a commission in over two months.). Sorry, but I yam what I yam. But lo and behold, it turns out that cursing may hold some benefits after all - aside from being considered "one of the guys" in a guy-dominated business. I reference this study and while I don't exactly encourage swearing as the main form of communication, it does seem to carry some impact when the occasion calls for it. And let's face it, this weight loss journey has more than its share of frustrating and painful moments.

When my son was about 6 years old and riding in the car with my husband, he used the phrase, "b*tch *ss". (I'll wait for you all to exhale. Yes, little boys have been known to say naughty things.) He had just started taking the school bus and well, let's just say there were some pretty shady 6th graders throwing around some BMOSB (big man on school bus) curse words. But my husband obviously thought it was my doing. "B*tch *ss?!" I said in defense of myself and slightyly amused at this particular phrase,"that's not something I use." I hastened to add, "Now, if you ever hear him saying 'rat f*ck son of a b*tch' - that's mine." And to everyone's obvious delight, he never did.

One of Those Days

It has been a frustrating morning. First off, I had to go to the local hospital for a barium swallow x-ray. Sounds like some nefarious character from a Batman movie, doesn't it? Barium Swallow and his sidekick, Phlegm Maxim. The hospital is only about 10 minutes away but every major road that leads there is under heavy duty construction - as if the drivers in Massachusetts need another reason for road rage. The x-ray assistant was sweet as could be and that's probably to offset the asshole doctor he was working with. The doc did not speak English well at all and so when he wanted me to move or cough and I couldn't understand him, he started manhandling me and shoving me around. He had the bedside manner of a jackhammer. Okay, so having my gums scraped seemed pleasant in comparison but it eventually came to an end.

Next, on to the mall to return some stuff and continue my quest for a pink tee-shirt and some decent workout clothes. While roaming through JC Penney, a woman who appeared to be a sales lady asked how I was doing. My guard went up immediately as I know the sales ladies don't have that kind of down-time to saunter through the lingerie department. And I was right. She was a roving credit card solicitor - did I have a JCP card? No. Would you like one? No. Are you sure? Excuse me but did I stutter - I said NO! I literally had to put my arm out to give her a phsyical cue to shut the f up and move along. Great - now they have face-to-face telemarketers with instructions not to take no for an answer the first 12 times they hear it. Yet another reason to shop online.

Next on to Sears where I always ask myself the same question when it comes to finding larger size clothing there: is there any other place on earth where so much crap is stuffed in to such a small space? Clearly, this is where crap goes to die.

I came home feeling like I had ants crawling on the inside of my skin. It was just one of those days. I ate a decent lunch but must confess I ate a little more than I should have. Comforting myself with food is a hard habit to break but I caught myself before any real harm was done. So now I'll just have to sit with these feelings until they pass; say around December. But at least I won't have the added frustration of having chosen food over feelings. I'm sure I'll feel good about that when my ears stop venting steam.

Cheap and Flattering

Cheap AND flattering? No, I'm not talking about what the office Christmas party Santa is whispering in your ear after a bucket of margaritas. I'm talking about the tee shirts I found at Walmart this morning made by Hanes under the name Just My Size or JMS.

You'd never know there was an effort to stamp out the obesity epidemic in this country given the scarcity of decent workout apparel for us plus sizers. My conspiracy theory is that the powerful snack food lobby is suppressing the clothing manufacturers from making workout clothes that actually fit and flatter. We are, for lack of a better phrase, their bread and butter (pizza & beer, soda and salted nuts, ice cream and hot fudge....you get the idea). It's in their interest if we're fat and stay that way.

Oh sure, we can always buy those oversized men's tee shirts that come in 3XXX that viewed from behind make us look like two dogs fighting underneath a blanket (credit the late Lewis Grizzard for that gem). Or you could choose from the Women's offerings embellished with Mickey Mouse, Pooh and morning glory motifs. These are supposed to make us want to buy them? But as most of us know, we usually wind up buying them for the fit and not the fashion.

This morning's find was only $6.00 each and you do have to cull through some pretty awful tee shirt "art" to find the ones that won't get you stopped for creating a disturbance. The sizes run a little small so don't get bummed out if you usually wear 1X and have to go to 2X to make it work. It also has a flattering v-neck, is somewhat fitted and falls to about mid-ass.

Apologies for the missing photos of you lovely followers. It must be yet another glitch that comes without warning and leaves when you're just about to pop a vein - sort of like family. Hope you're all having a great Tuesday!

Birthday Parties, Helpful Hints and Teeing Off

Whew - the party's over. I did pretty well at avoiding the known toxic people and fatty food and it was pretty smooth sailing. But as one would expect from being in the presence of a thin person, the "helpful hint" did come up. Doesn't it always? And is anyone besides me sick to death of people offerring their stinkin' advice when it wasn't asked for in the first place?

So I'm talking to this woman - a family friend about 75 years old and in terrific shape. She, her husband, my hubby and I are talking about golfing - something hubby and I would like to take up again now that the teen wants nothing to do with us and would love to have 2-3 unsupervised hours alone (He hasn't found the nanny-cam yet. Who's the smart little mommy?). This woman and her husband golf frequently and she was telling me all the benefits of it and when she got to the word "exercise", she looked directly at me, raised her eyebrows and nodded her head - as if the word were quite foreign to me. These facial gymnastics of hers were the equivalent of bold, italic and underline if she were in writing mode. But alas, she was in preaching mode. Oh, if you could only please speak a little more slowly so I could really understand you, Yoda.

So here's what I said back to her: Oh yes, of course. (As in, "isn't that interesting? Tell me more about this "exercise" thingy because as you can see from my shape I have little to no experience with it")

And here's what I said in my head: Yes, Wanda, it might interest you and your ballpeen hammer subtlety to know that I've actually heard of exercise and am employing it quite frequently these days. But as long as we're sharing here, let me offer you a lesson in common courtesy that you'll never acutally know you've been taught and that's because I know how to keep my mouth shut when it comes to embarrassing or humiliating people in front of others under the guise of "helpfulness". That said, you really ought to do something about this habit you have of dressing 40 years your junior. Mini-skirts and AARP just don't mix. Glass houses and people throwing stones? Ditto. So please, just zip it.

The following day, hubby and I went to the driving range to brush up on those old golfing skills - teeing off on balls, not people. My helpful hubby wanted to know if he should use a wedge or a driver to help me get that chip off my shoulder. How could I not love this guy?