This Will be Brief. . .

because I am still worn out from my weekend. Saturday night we went out to celebrate Mademoiselle W, my brother's fiancé. Ironically, everyone there was younger than me but MY MOTHER, and she's the only one I couldn't keep up with. That scrawny little kitten's a lot of fun to party with.

This is not the place for me to re-cap the night. I don't want to get disbarred. Let's just say there was a sea of jello shots, Mlle. W was wearing my brother's underwear on her head at one point, and by the end of the night I was as cantankerous as Red Forman from "That 70's Show." Oh, and during the middle of the night MY MOTHER tried to cuddle up to my sister-in-law, because she thought it was MY FATHER.

[FN Next time you see MY FATHER and Mdme. S, please give each of them a hug and see if you could ever make the same mistake. Now, Mdme. S and MY MOTHER both have washboard stomachs (if they've had a drink, they will show you) so you could get those two hungry wenches confused, but MY FATHER? Ha, ha, he wishes.]

Anyway, while my behavior over all was NOT very good (For example, I stole Mlle. W's illustrated Kama Sutra, and I'm not giving it back to her until I've put little notes in it to help her out. She's from Illinois, after all), I was pretty good about food. I walked at home before we left, didn't eat any dinner, or chips, dips, brownies or Smartfood. Mdme. S buys it to taunt me. The next day I had an egg sandwich on a bagel with home fries for brunch, which was not too much food considering what I had been through the night before. It was wonderful, though the bagel was second rate. I also really don't like restaurant home fries that much. I wish we'd gone for lunch, so I could have had a hamburger and fries. I would eat a hamburger and fries for breakfast every day if I could. With a chocolate shake.

[FN In this Nirvana, after my burger breakfast, I'd have soup for lunch every day, with homemade tut-a-lings (yes, we really call them that). If you've never had my family's homemade tut-a-lings (a.k.a. tortellini) they are the best food in the universe. They are better than any pasta I have had in the United States (not surprising) or Italy (I was there for a week, so I'm quite the expert). They are served in a red broda (broth) and they are filled with meat and cheese. I hope you never try them, because if someone makes them for you, that's one less time that I got to have them (they take a lot of time to make). If I could, I would lock my grandmother up and make her make a certain quota each day. If she did not meet the quota, I would read ridiculously contrived novels to her until she moved her little butt (she's not a big Sci Fi fan). I bet one novel about robots would yield about a thousand tut-a-lings. Of course, if I did lock her up, my goddamned cousins would mug me and steal all the tut-a-lings she'd made for me, so it probably is just as well to let her run free. If you are reading this, Gramma, I'm not trying to be subtle. Feel free to finish working, go home and make some toots! Don't whine to me about being 87 and working full time, just get to work. Her generation just doesn't know how to work.]

I did have two small pieces of takeout pizza on Sunday as well, which was not a good idea, but as I said, I was running on fumes.

Today I had a chicken salad (chicken, fat free yogurt, nuts, dried cranberries and cumin -- got the recipe from my mother in law) on a wrap, and an apple. I'm hoping that I see 126.5 tomorrow. I'll let you know.

Jersey Shore, Here I Come!

No, I am not so lean and sexy that I belong on the beach, I just got a spray tan for the first time today. I haven't washed the "bronzer" off yet, so I look like Snookie from Jersey Shore. I'm hoping once I wash it off, I'll look like me again, only a couple of degrees darker.

If the idea of me getting spray tanned doesn't immediately make you giggle, let me explain. First of all, it wasn't my idea. I don't have ideas about "beauty treatments." Every new haircut, hair color, massage, pedicure, manicure, facial, make-up, etc. that I've tried in my life has been someone else's idea. In fact, almost all of them have been the brainchild of a certain person. Let's call this person my "Partner in Crime," or "PIC." They have requested that I keep their identity confidential. [FN They tried to get me not to write about the spray tanning at all, but that wasn't going to happen. Also, hopefully we'll be tan, so that's kind of a giveaway right there. When you haven't left Massachusetts for months, and there's three feet of snow outside, people notice if you're tan.]

I'd also like to point out that I don't usually have many ideas at all. I'm not very creative. What little inspiration I have I save for, (1) New foods I'd like to make. I'd really like to try baking empanadas and cakey cookies right now. (2) Music I'd like to play with my music buddies. I never actually get to play with them, but I think about it a lot. (3) Books I'd like to write if I wasn't so lazy. I have some intricate plots in my head that will never see the light of day, most of which heavily feature magic, romance and happy endings. No real literature allowed! (4) Silly things to put on my blog to make my family laugh. All of my ideas are more like useless distractions. PIC is much more creative, and one of the ways that she uses her surfeit of creativity is to try and improve my life (or to "fix me," depending on the mood she is in).

As usually happens when PIC has a brainchild, PIC called me and said that we were going to be too pale for the wedding, and should try spray tanning, to which I replied, "O.K." PIC then said that we should give it a test run a couple of weeks before the wedding, to which I replied, "O.K." Today PIC called and made the appointment, arranged the babysitting, and picked me up to go to the spray tanning place. When she called and told me, I said, "O.K." She then made me go first, in case the whole thing was a big mistake.

Which it may have been. The experience itself was painless, if chilly. I'm glad we just went for the waist up option, as it was bad enough to just have our shoulders, arms and faces sprayed with cold mist and air (we used strapless bras to preserve our modesty, though that didn't work out very well for me. As I said, it was cold.) Right after she sprayed us, we definitely looked better.

I'm curious to see what color I'm going to end up, however, because my son asked me, "Why is your head orange?" Of course, if I were black like he is, I wouldn't need to worry about this shit, so that was kind of a kick in the pants. I sometimes wonder if he is going to call his memoirs, "My Foolish White Parents and How I Overcame Them." However, my daughter also wanted to know, "What did you do to yourself?" when she got home from school, so maybe my son wasn't just rubbing in how beautiful his skin is all year.

Of course, we were told not to wash our hands for three hours, which I screwed up very quickly. My daughter pooped on the floor, and I'm sorry, but you have to wash your hands after you wash poop off of your daughter, toilet and floor. Oh, and the cracks on the floor. Don't forget them! I somehow doubt that Angelina Jolie has to deal with this when she gets spray tanned.

So, maybe this time PIC's brainchild will work out, maybe it won't. She has already washed off all of her bronzer (coward), so I'll let you know how "Snookie" I end up.

P.S. This morning I still weighed 127. Hopefully I'll be lighter (and tanner) tomorrow!

Had to Let You Know. . .

. . . I weighed in at 127 this morning. Yippee! Very happy. Accepting that losing weight is a two steps forward, one step back kind of process, this is still a weight I haven't hit for about four years. In other words, before my final pregnancy.

Now I have to build on this momentum without getting too extreme. I did pretty well today, but I don't know if I actually lost weight.

Reasons I might be lighter tomorrow morning than I was this morning:

1) I am starving right now. If I were full, I'd be in trouble.

2) I ate an egg, some lettuce, half a pepper, half a glass of milk, about a cup of brown rice, three bites of chicken leftover from last night, about half a cup of black beans, salsa and a 90 calorie tortilla (there was also a whisper of cheddar cheese on the beans and rice).

3) I got my eyebrows waxed, so I am definitely lighter without all that hair.

Reasons I might weigh more tomorrow than I did today:

1) I did not work out today.

2) I ate an egg, some lettuce, half a pepper, half a glass of milk, about a half a cup of brown rice, three bites of chicken leftover from last night, about half a cup of black beans, salsa and a 90 calorie tortilla (there was also a whisper of cheddar cheese on the beans and rice).

We shall see what we shall see! I'll let you know tomorrow.

When Your Diet Puts Your Children in Peril

Let me set the scene for you. We had kind of a typical day around here. Got the kids up, made breakfast for them (I had an apple) shoved the oldest onto the bus, got the other two cleaned up and dragged them to the Y.

As usual, Candy, the instructor, did her best to break us in Step Class, and she succeeded. I became a mouthbreather in about ten minutes. [FN If you have ever watched people who are working out, you know what a "mouthbreather" is. It's the guy who's gaping like a sweating trout, but you can still see the pain, the silent scream, if you will, in his eyes.]

Dragged the kids back home, got cleaned up, fed them and MY HUSBAND lunch. Had a measley portion of turkey chili with him. Drank a pitcher of mint tea, did some housework and some of the volunteer stuff I do. Made dinner -- Auntie K's Indian Chicken, broccoli, cous-cous and cherry tomatoes.

You may be curious as to what, "Auntie K's Indian Chicken" is. Very delicious. I also think the name is perfect. It's mostly chicken, so it's Chicken. It has spices, so it's Indian. It's not really Indian, however, and I made it up, so it's Auntie K's Indian Chicken. You have to admit, you are intrigued. It's a dish with panache.

[FN First you take chunks of chicken, coat them with whole wheat spelt flour (no egg or breadcrumbs) drissle them with olive oil and brown them in the oven. Then you mix up non-fat yoghurt with cinnamon, tumeric and curry. You mix that into the chicken and put it in the oven until the chicken is cooked through. I use the convection oven and it cooks up in a jiffy.]

Personally, I Iove the stuff. But I was resolved to not eat, because I have a problem with PORTION CONTROL. So I gave each of the kids some broccoli and chicken, and told them to eat it. After MY HUSBAND took his food, I took a little broccoli and about four bites of chicken. It took me less than ten seconds to eat. I seriously considered licking the bowl. I then got up to do the dishes, because better women than me have buckled under the tempting and seductive lure of Auntie K's Indian Chicken (Actually, I think I'm the only adult woman who's eaten it, but others would buckle, trust me).

This is where it got dangerous for my offspring. First of all, they wouldn't eat their chicken. This really pissed me off, because they like the chicken, they were just being naughty, and honestly, I wanted the damned chicken myself, so it just was painful.

We (me and the other half of my parental team, MY HUSBAND) told them that if they did not eat it, they would not be allowed to watch a cartoon after supper. My son, being superior, ate the damned chicken. The girls did not, so we didn't allow them to watch the cartoon.

My youngest, who usually eats like a champ but was just exhausted tonight, then spent the next half hour crying at my feet.

[FN She was exhasted because she played "Guys" with her cousin all day. "Guys" is when they take dolls, crayons, toy cars, pieces of paper, and make them talk to each other as different little characters for hours. It's a lot of work.]

I don't know if a child has ever wailed on the floor next to you while you were trying to do the dishes for a half an hour, but it is a little grating. It is especially grating when you are STARVING and they are wailing because they wouldn't eat the chicken that YOU WANTED.

I did not lose my cool, however. I got them all to bed without making empty threats, which are ineffective, (Like, "I will sell the T.V. to traveling gypsies and you will never watch another cartoon again, so long as I live, so help me God!") or realistic, violent threats, which are effective, but wrong, (Like, "I will come down on you like a HURRICANE, and spank you until the skin of your butt is as hot and red as the heart of a THOUSAND SUNS!") or empty violent threats, which are ineffective and wrong, (Like, "I will take you outside and leave you in a snowbank for the coyotes to EAT!")

So, the night was a success. I fed my family a healthy meal, I did not eat much of anything (sob!) for dinner, and no one got hurt or emotionally scarred (though it was close there for a while). At last check I was at 128, so I'm hoping to see some lucky sevens tomorrow morning. Also, Candy, our local work-out goddess of pain, is teaching another class at the Y tomorrow, so I should be able to chip away at these tube sock arms. Of course, in my heart of hearts I hope it snows and a Girl Scout Cookie delivery truck is stranded out in my driveway by the storm. . . Sorry, I'd probably be more positive if I had some more damned chicken to eat.

Hungry for a New Post?

I'm just plain starving, myself. I'm home from a Charter Review Committee Meeting, and it ROCKED! Just kidding. It was as dull as it sounds. Town committee meetings, even the best of them, which this was, don't rock. If you believed me, even for an instant, you need to dance for three hours and then get laid.

Speaking of which, I can't wait for my brother's wedding. I plan on dancing for three hours, and then getting laid. Don't get in line, I've already picked my prince consort/vasectomied Guido. There is nothing sexier than an Italian man with a vasectomy. Seriously.

Anyway, I digress. I am starving, so I'm drinking "Blueberry Slim Life" tea. Those organic tea manufacturers are making a mint off of me. I purchased it because the "Slim" just called to me. The subtitle also says, "Energizes and Helps Suppress Appetite." I just had three glasses, so I might be up all night -- it's green tea. Of course very little has kept me up in the past. I am renowned for falling asleep on public buses and trains. I once did a huge closing in Connecticut with one of the firm's biggest clients. The client drove me back to Boston (no, I did not offer to drive, but that's another post), and I conked out right in the front seat. I think she was impressed by the way I lose my chin and begin to drool when I fall asleep sitting up. It's one of MY HUSBAND'S favorite mental pictures of me.

I am also sure to fall asleep because Candy, our instructor at the YMCA tried to kill me again today. I am literally having trouble lifting my arms up enough to type right now, no kidding. I don't know if any of you noticed, but it was as cold as a witch's tit this morning. There is nothing worse than putting boots/hats/mittens on two dopey little kids when you are trying to rush out the door. Of course, we were late. I think Mdme. L ensures that we are late in the hope that we will miss some of the class, actually, which I concur is an excellent plan.

Did not help today, however. It also had an unfortunate side effect. After we hauled the kids up the stairs to the Kid Watch Room, taking all their coats/hats/mittens with us so they don't get lost/stolen/contract lice, we went into the gym. Not only were 20 women and one round guy facing the gym door in rows, squatting, (which was a little scary) but the only spots left were front and center. We had to grab mats/weights/steps/risers for steps and hustle into the front row. Then Candy immediately made us spend about ten hours in plank position, simultaneously running our legs up and down. I could barely move, and Mdme. L wasn't any great shakes either, no matter what she tells you. For some reason I felt like a big, boiled noodle today.

[FN: Personally, if I were a noodle, I think I would be penne rigate. With just enough meat sauce, still pretty firm and round. MY MOTHER would be an egg noodle with pork sauce. Nice and tender, flat and narrow, classy. Gramma B would obviously be that really fine spaghetti with tuna sauce - straightforward and perfect. Mdme. L would be ditalini, because you never get tired of it. MY FATHER would be lasagna, because it's so filling (and terrible for you). MY HUSBAND would be ravioli (homemade -- I would never have married canned ravs).]

For some reason, everyone in the class today seemed to be much more in shape than me and Mdme. L, even the 80 year old woman in the back and the mentally disabled woman in the front. The round guy was having a tough time, but he still seemed to be outperforming us. For the first time, I really felt judged, up there in the front. After a while, though, they all started to lag, as well. I thought to myself, "Not so (wheeze) perfect (wheeze) now, (wheeze) are you, (wheeze) bitch (wheeze) es?" Then I took a break.

Meanwhile, Candy perservered. She had a terrible cold, and was probably up all night with her four kids, but she didn't miss a beat. She did everything faster than the music and added in extra jumps and stuff. I also noticed when we picked our kids up from Kid Watch that Candy had managed to brush her little girl's hair into a semblance of order, something I cannot say about myself. Would make a normal woman feel inferior, I tell you.

So, of course, we are going back tomorrow, because at present I cannot wear anything to this wedding that I would actually want to wear to this wedding. Never fear, though, loyal readers, I shall persevere! I am going to have some more tea and go find my Ravioli! Goodnight!

We are going

On the Road to Skinny Bliss!

Emergency Posting! (And the only posting you are going to get today. I do have a life to live.)

Today is a day for rejoicing! I implore my readers (all two or three of you) to raise up your voices and sing HOSANNA to the HIGHEST! I lost 1.5 pounds since yesterday! Was it nerves over the big meeting? Was it just that I was out of the house for six hours? Perhaps. I would rather credit it to my having an iron will, however.

Unfortunately, my work is not done. I did a little naked victory dance after weighing myself, which I caught sight of in the mirror. Kind of scary. I have a long way to go still. Don't get smug, asshole -- go do a naked victory dance yourself and check it out. You'll be watching T.V. on the treadmill in a dank, scary cellar, too.

I still have 8.5 pounds to go to reach my goal of 120. That's almost three pounds a week, and I only have two more meetings during that time (not that I want more meetings, but they do distract me from eating). This ain't going to be easy.

What we've learned over that last couple of days is that supper is the enemy. So sad, to realize that something you love so much is plotting against you! I mean, even the word, "supper," is so comforting! And take one little "p" away, and you have "super." Who would have thought it could be so evil?

I'm going to go have lunch now (avoiding the naughty pizza) and then have fruit or a small salad for supper before 5:30. I think I will pretty much try and have what I had yesterday (bagel and eggs). I probably won't lose any weight tonight (it never goes in streaks for me, just lumps), but I'm feeling optimistic! I feel like celebrating, maybe with a pan of brownies! (See why I can't keep weight off?) I'll have to celebrate with something else -- where's MY HUSBAND? Shoot, shoveling snow? Maybe I'll go clean out the bathroom closet. Admit it -- don't brownies sound like a better celebration?

Feel free to celebrate yourself. If anyone asks you why you left work early and are passed out drunk at a bar at 4:00 p.m. (I know my audience) you can just tell them, "I am celebrating my cousin's/friends/daughter's/sister's success." If they ask what I did, make something up about orphans or space exploration. They can't understand how much those 1.5 pounds mean to us unless they had taken the journey by our side.

Now for lunch!

Is it wrong to stop feeding your children?

Don't worry, I'm mostly kidding. One of my kids was sick, so she ate even less than she usually does (She eschews bread. Who brings plain tuna to school when they're 8? Or a hard boiled egg? Not a diet designed to draw in the little boys, but I'll work on that with her later). She certainly doesn't get that behavior from ME. Another child ate toast with avocado mashed onto it, potatoes cooked in olive oil, scrambled eggs, french fries, 50 apples and 30 clementines (I am only inflating those numbers a little bit). The third one ate everything she could wrest from her father, her mother, and a sample of what her siblings ate, and some pizza. She does take after me. :)

What did I eat? Two eggs, a glass of milk, a sprouted bagel and an apple. Why, you ask? Well I am working on a new hypothesis. Yesterday I just ate one panini and a glass of wine all day (There was sourdough bread, some kind of sauce, chicken and a slice of bacon. Just so you know, I would punch you, whomever you are, for another one of those right now. And my grandmother reads this blog. I wouldn't punch her in the face or anything, but I'd probably give her a firm pinch for one of those sandwiches. I am not a nice lady.) In the interest of full disclosure, I also had about four bites of potatoes. Shockingly, I lost half a pound.

I assume that there were two elements that led to my success, 1) Early consumption of calories (nothing after 5:30p.m.); and, 2)Portion control. I have a real problem with PORTION CONTROL. I figure, if there is more, why not eat it? This, unfortunately leads to tube sock arms.

So today, I stepped it up. No fancy sauce, no bacon. Healthier (and less) bread. No potatoes or any other food for dinner. I also walked for 2.5 miles in my basement. I finally got to watch an old "Closer." It was great. I'm going to practice that accent all day tomorrow with my kids. I almost used it tonight at the Board of Health Meeting I was at, but thought it would be better to save until I'm actually in court. ("Why Fritzie, you didn't have to do that for me!?!")

I am hungry, but it's midnight, and I'm always hungry at midnight. I'm going to go wake MY HUSBAND up (without eating any leftover pizza) and try and get some satisfaction that way.
Did you hear that? Uh, oh, the pizza is calling me.

"Big K, we're some lovely pizza. Don't you want some? We're already all cut up."

"No, you are salty and cold and nasty. Be quiet."

"You don't really think we're nasty. We have mushrooms. . ."

"No I shall not eat you as I put you away, foul tempter! I will have cut little pipe-cleaner arms like my teensie aunts, not pale tube socks. Piss off!"

I just hope the pizza doesn't get rough and try and grab me. Stranger things have happened around here.