Wednesday, June 30, 2010

I said I'd do it and here it is.....

I just went pee-pee.

I ignored the poo on the back of the toilet.

I stared at my giner.

Wanna know why?

Cuz - STILL - no red bumpy razor burn.

I'm in love with Mrs. Fatass.

Soon I will stalk her.

This is my public apology. 

She won. 

Here is her link....I owe her a few followers and my first born child.

I Wish Wednesday....

I’m going to do something new – every Wednesday – out of selfishness and all in the name of my “improve Draz’s mental health journey” and well, cuz it’s gonna be fun. I’m calling it I wish Wednesday. Some of you probably think this is going to be foo-fooey and all gumdrop farting….um, not so much. Sometimes it might be – but not very often.

See – all my life I have been a major conflict avoider….which has caused me more internal pain than I care to admit….and thanks to my best friend Jenny – I’m really over that. I’m really over being walked on. I’m really into valuing myself more than that. BUT we all know there are certain circumstances when saying what you feel or blowing up just aren’t appropriate in real life….so I’m going to hold it in all week – until I Wish Wednesday and then WATCH OUT!

Read on – you’ll catch my drift. Oh feel free to have your own “I wish Wednesday” if it helps…I don’t mind.

1. I’ll start with a sappy I wish…..I wish I could let you all really know how much your comments and friendships mean to me. And to whoever became my 300th follower (I haven’t looked yet) – thank you. My OCD was kicking in and seeing 299 (I hate 9s and hate odd numbers) was driving me nutso! Most days I really don’t understand why people read me…..I often think they accidentally followed me and just haven’t taken the time to unfollow me but *sigh* - I doubt any of you really know what you have done for me and my life. It can’t be put into words.

2. To a certain family member that has no children and last night decided to roll their eyes at whatever my NINE and FOUR year old kids did….I wish you have 6 kids just like mine – one right after the other – and I hope they never sleep through the night and aren’t potty trained until they are 4. Get over yourself. You don’t know jack.

3. To another family member who can’t go on Facebook without chatting with me about the dumbest things like how many times I peed in a day…I wish you spilled Pepsi on your keyboard so you couldn’t type to me for just one day. I’m getting tired of hiding from you. Find another hobby. Facebook has games. Try them.

4. To the person who called in sick last night on a freaking Tuesday (I mean really – what is so important on a Tuesday night?) that made my husband pull a double shift at the prison and drive home on his motorcycle at night in the cold after only a few hours of sleep….I wish someone calls in sick on a weekend and gets you jammed to a second shift and I wish on that shift a prisoner smears poo on the walls and you have to clean it. Go to work buddy. It’s a Tuesday.

5. To another family member who had the nerve to ask my 9 year old a very personal question about her sitters (why they don’t have children) in front of my 4 year old thinking I’d never find out – I wish you’d understand the confusion this caused. 9 year olds, nor 4 year olds – give a damn about who has kids and who doesn’t. If someone doesn’t have kids – they have no idea that that’s not considered the norm….and that it’s no one’s business. I wish you could remember what it felt like to have to adopt two children on your own. I wish you’d act like an adult. I wish a mosquito would bite you on your left tit and you couldn’t scratch it cuz everyone would think you were feeling yourself up.

6. To a certain someone who is afraid to go on a family trip this weekend and wants to cancel out of fear – knock it off. I wish you could see that it will all be okay. I wish you knew you’ll have fun. I wish you realized how far you’ve come in that just a few months ago you indeed would have cancelled. You go girl….like for realz. Go. (yah this one was for me)

7. To my fellow blogger Sandy Lee, who sneakily suggested to Stephanie that everyone should unfollow me just for a day – thereby causing me to have a panic attack and hyperventilate and sob in a corner…I wish that for one day Sheniqua (my 15 lbs of fat) would live on your right middle finger so you couldn’t flip anyone off and you’d be forced to say “F*ck you” all day instead. Oh wait….you do that now. Crap. I must find a more evil wish. How about a butt boil the size of Texas? (Oh Sandy you know I love you…you make my heart sing.)

8. Lastly, to my Uncle whose girlfriend died in his arms this week. Stage 4 liver, pancreas and stomach cancer – dead in 6 weeks flat. Not even 50. She woke up and said, “Hold me, I’m dying.” And he did. And she died. I wish my Uncle peace though he already seems to have found it in knowing she is no longer in pain. I wish cancer didn’t exist. You suck cancer. You can go straight to hell.

That’s it for I Wish Wednesday. Anyone gonna join me? It actually felt pretty good!

Oh and today is my BYOC goal day….and holy crap a bunch of you are totally rocking your BYOC goals! I’m in a race with Carmen – we both committed to 64oz of the big H2O today. She’s going down!

And I’m so flipping excited to note my June stats here tomorrow!! Me hopes your little jaws drop!

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Ears and *the kitty*....oh and wedgies too.

Soooooo….grab a glass of water, get in a comfy chair, put your feet up. It’s story time. Our topic of discussion today will be…..ears.


Why the long face? Disappointed?

Calm down…I’ll get to the whootananny in a second.

First – ears. I’m not freaking kidding about this. I have been awake for nearly 3 hours and my ear is STILL sore. You have all heard me whine before about how when I lose weight the first place I lose it in is my fingers. Which is just dumb. Dumb with a capital D.

Wanna know the second place I lose weight? My ears. This is beyond dumb. It’s just God’s way of playing with me. “Here Draz…let your ass still jiggle and your thighs rub together but duh-am your ears are slim and sexy.” I slept on my side last night – to be awakened numerous times because my ear bone is so prevalent now that it hurts to sleep on my side. Do you think I’m making this crap up? Seriously – why would I? It’s ridiculous.

Alright – alright – on to what you came here for. Last week Mrs. Fatass over at Did I Eat That Out Loud swore up and down that she has solved the bikini razor burn issue on your “kitty”. She even posted pictures of herself naked. Well she was naked – but wrapped in a towel. She demo-ed the products she used and gave a great how-to on the whole situation. I read the whole thing. I rolled my eyes. I told her to eff off – that she was a liar. Well okay maybe not but I secretly wanted to. Then I issued a challenge – if it worked, I’d publicly apologize. If it didn’t – she had to do a BYOC. Well son of a bitch….guess who will be doing a public apology? It ain’t Sheniqua I’ll tell you that.

Mrs. Fatass said the key to no razor burn – which I HATE – was to use a scrubber and exfoliate the shit out of your kitty area. I asked if a brillo pad would work and she said no. So I went to Walmart. (Yah, I’m a high end shopper.) I have the husband with me and I say, “Mrs. Fatass says I can get rid of razor burn “down there” if I exfoliate like a mad woman. Oh and Mrs. Fatass is a blogger friend.”

You know what he says? He says, “Why in the hell is it okay for you to call a woman a fatass? If I did that my balls would get chopped off!!”

I told him he was missing the point. Focus on the smooth kitty. That’s the priority here. Ignore the fatass.

So together we shop for a proper scrubber. I felt like Goldilocks. This one is too soft. This one is too hard. This one is just right. And only $3.

I get home and prepare the scene. Let me just say right now ever since I’ve become obsessed with a smooth kitty I pretty much have the lovely razor burn along the sides where my legs bend all the time. It’s annoying and ugly.

NOT ANYMORE!

I got in there and I scrubbed. And I scrubbed. You’d think I was trying to get rid of crabs with the violent nature of my scrubbing. I was only thinking in my head if I tell Mrs. Fatass it didn’t work she’s going to say “you didn’t scrub hard enough” so I made damn sure I scrubbed until I bled. Okay – not that hard but still. I had so much lather and soap built up down there I couldn’t even see what I was doing….but I scrubbed.

I washed off the lather and soap. Angels sang. The heavens opened up. Nothing but smooth skin remained. I nearly shart myself in the tub. I even made the husband come in and look at the miracle. Holy shit – you guys – in all seriousness….I was shocked. A few minutes of scrubbing and it was gone. I haven’t seen it since.

All weekend I wore bikinis and dresses and no underwear and every chance I got I was checking out the kitty….I was so sure the bumps and redness would reappear. They did not. If I was a pervert I’d stalk myself. I’m in love with my own vagina. Who knew that could happen? Who knew I’d ever be able to just see it when looking down without lifting skin? Vagina-land is so freaking cool.

And then reality kicked in. OMG – I have to tell Mrs. Fatass she was right. I have to publicly apologize. And I will…..tomorrow.

After all I never told her when I would do it – I just said I would.

Also – I’m having a skinny day and would like to proclaim that to the world. A girl here said, “Your scale at home has got to be broken – you look so freaking tiny.” I dry humped her leg and tried to make out with her but she called HR on me….something about sexual harassment policies or something.

Another guy here stopped and said, “You’re all dressed up today”. Um – I have on a cotton dress with 3 inch heels. This is not dressed up but whatever….I batted my eyelashes properly and said, “Oh am I?” Men are such toys. I could be wearing overalls covered in shit but if I had on 3 inch heels everything would be alright in their tiny little mind. I wanted to scream “Dude – can you go away? I’ve got a wedgie that is so far my my ass I may never get it out but I need to try!”

They’re the cutest lace underwear ever – if they weren’t up my ass. A girl can’t win. No razor burn – and the payoff is an all day wedgie-fest.

Beauty ain’t easy.

Now excuse me while I go pet the kitty. 

Oh I crack myself up. 

Be well, my friends,
~ Draz

Monday, June 28, 2010

Mrs. Fatass made me do it.

Weelllhellhell…hello my loverlies.


Monday Monday. Um yah, I’d rather teach my kids to go poo on the potty again than repeat this day. Nothing major going on – I just don’t have it in me to love a Monday. It seems sadistic.

Can I just say to all of you BYOC’ers out there with all the “hidden” and nipple piercings – you’re all a bunch of shameless hussies? I am shocked. Every time I read about another one of you I nearly fell off my chair (in envy). Okay and for realz…we all know since my breast reduction that my nips are at constant attention and I hate that they show through bras. Can I just ask how the hell you hide the fact that your nipples are pierced? Is that possible?

Random vent….my mother-in-law pissed me off this weekend…and she only did it cuz my husband wasn’t with me. She would have never said the things she said had he been in the room. Ever. How did the awesome man I married come from this person? This concludes my random vent. Carry on.

Wait until you guys see my June goals. I told you I would kick June’s ass and I wasn’t kidding. I went running this weekend and I swear I must look like a horse when I run. I mean I “feel” so heavy – like lifting my own body to run requires so much energy and the next time I feel as light as the wind. I was sweating like a whore, singing to my heavy metal, flipping off anyone who pointed at me and sucking water the whole time. Such a pro I am huh? Is that multi-tasking or what?

I have since realized if I’m going to run this marathon I need new shoes, new earphones, a new Ipod holder, and a new water holder. Would any of you like to donate to my marathon fund…hmmmm? Good God – I’m going to have to do my own fundraiser. What can I give as a prize? I’ve got it – Sheniqua!!! Dude – you don’t even have to give me money for her – I’ll give you her fat azz for free.

Um let’s see what else? OMG in Heaven! I tried Mrs. Fatass’s cure to bikini razor burn. I shall blog about it tomorrow. You’re going to be freaking shocked. I’m not kidding. Wowser. Just wowser.

I’m scared to walk outside to my car from work tonight…within eyeshot of every man who works here…cuz I’m wearing a dress and it’s windy….and I wanted to be a badass and forgot my skivvies – on purpose….and I’m afraid the wind is going to blow up my dress just for karma’s sake. Can you freaking imagine? My turkey necked vagizzle all out there up in the air……I’d never come back to work. But it serves me right for being such a hussy huh? Can you imagine what my mother would say? Where did this Catholic girl go wrong I ask you?

Okay – I just wanted to check in and say hey to all my followers! You guys rock….come back tomorrow for some full on vagizzle blog porn. Mrs. Fatass made me do it. Blame her if you’re offended mmkkaayy?

Be well my friends,
~Drazee

AmeyinIdaho...that's Amey In Idaho....

Hey all my lovely followers...I found a woman who could use some followers and support.  Right now she has two followers - our Superstars Amy W and BG from The Sweet Spot....I'm sure she'd love a few more of you rock stars too.  She was banded in May!

Here's a link to her blogging to the beat of BYOC for last week!

Thanks my awesome chicas!

Friday, June 25, 2010

BYOC Friday!!!!! **Bring Your Own Craziness**

It’s FRIDAY – and that means BYOC! Today is going to be a great edition if I do say so myself. I’m feeling spunky today – going home to lay out early and make the neighbors run home screaming!


Get your crazy creative thinking caps on and answer would ya? I love getting to know all of you better!

1. This comes from my post yesterday about me bragging that I can still wear the same earrings I wore in high school….got me to wondering…how many piercings do you have? (the ones you can tell us about anyway – *wink wink)

I have 7. You little shameless hussies (that I am secretly proud of)…get your minds back to a clean place. None of my piercings are X-rated. I have 3 in each ear and one belly button one. When I reached 50 lbs down, the belly button piercing was my reward.  It was a bonus that I still have no feeling in my stomach from my tummy tuck so I knew the piercing wouldn't hurt!

2. I’m asking this one because I’m getting another tattoo soon…and even have plans to get one of a lizard – my little Draz – because this blog and you all have become a major part of my life. Anywhoozle – how many tattoos do you have? If you have none and wanted to get one – what would it be?

I have 5 soon to be 6. I’m a big fan of tattoos with meaning. I have my Grandmother’s signature on me and a poem I read to her before she died. My husband has a lock and I have a key on my wrist. I have a half back piece with symbols for each of my family members and a memorial to my uncle. Most people have no idea I have tattoos because I can cover them all. My parents HATE my tattoos...my mom refuses to even look at them...which may be part of the reason I get them.  LOL

The next one I’m getting is on my foot and it’s going to hurt like a mother-effer.  It is a myriad of stars and my birth month flower.  I'll show ya in Chicago!

3. If you’ve ever suffered from a weight-loss plateau, what’s your best advice to get past it?

1. sob hysterically – like the kind where snot runs out of your nose onto your shirt…you know, pretty crying
2. suck your thumb
3. throw a tantrum
4. curse the fat Gods
5. eat 16 twinkies
6. rinse and repeat

Ah, I wish…though sometimes that is how I dealt with it. I truly think there’s a reason for plateaus. In my 3.5 year journey I don’t think I had a major one. I never stayed at any weight too long – I was either up or down. If the scale wasn’t moving down I wasn’t doing enough…I was comfortable and was starting to slack, I stopped counting cals or working out. If I was running for an hour on the treadmill each night and my weight didn’t move – I would add just 5 minutes…and that would be enough change to make my body react. Or I’d cut just 100 calories. A little change in my routine would produce changes in my body. All I really know is plateaus suck!

4. This is a repeat. I liked last week’s challenge for BYOC and I saw a lot of people this week follow through on the promise they made last week. You pick one thing for just one day next week that you want to do….and mentally doing it for the one day can totally jump start more successes. And I feel like I can do anything for just one day.

This week I pick Wednesday again and I pick that I will drink 64 oz that day again. It was really tough for me to do this week though I did it. I had a competition with Carmen!

What will you do for just one day in your quest towards health?

5. Repeat *make someone a Superstar* question – what's your favorite blog or comment of the week?

I got a good laugh over Mrs. Fatass’s secret to no razor burn blog this week.

As far as comments, hands down – the comment Band-Babe left me. She had taken an Ambien and then decided to comment on my serious post and it looked like she had her fingers on the wrong keys. I couldn’t read a word of it and it made my day….seriously I laughed out loud and I know others did too….so thanks BB for not even doing it on purpose – but for lighting up our day! We love you!

Oh and the comments from my readers on my meds post – wow – you all amazed me once again. I was sure I’d lose half my followers after I sounded off so to have your support meant everything to me.


Peace out my lovelies!

Be well,
~Draz

Thursday, June 24, 2010

I can't help it...

I don't want to brag or make anybody jealous or anything, but I can still fit into the earrings I wore in high school.

I know, I know...you all want to be me....

And the (s)hits just keep on coming....

Yah….not a week (or even a day for that matter) can go by without me discussing poop. *sigh* If you think I enjoy it, you’re crazier than I am but I can’t help but share the shit hell I live in. Explosive Man isn’t here this week. This time it’s not even his raunchy ass doing the deed. I don’t know the culprit…but I intend to find out.

Anywhoozle – like I said, Explosive Man is gone but yet I went into the bathroom yesterday and would have inhaled sharply had I been breathing. I’ve learned not to breathe when I walk in there. Poop – real honest to goodness poop from someone’s bowels – was ON the toilet seat. I nearly lost my cookies but that would have meant bending down near the toilet and that wasn’t going to happen.

How does that happen? I mean I imagine you’d have to go in there and NOT sit down and bend over and hold on to your ankles and shoot. It cannot happen if you are sitting like a normal person going poo. So um yah, if you think my sanitary albeit cheese-curdy cellulite-y ass was gonna use that bathroom – well then I’ve got some land I wanna sell you for a good price. I haven’t been back to that bathroom all week. The memory haunts me. I have nightmares. I’m thinking of filing a workman’s comp claim. I am sure I have a case.

Also – my BYOC goal was to have no sugar, drink 64 oz of water and stay under 1200 cals yesterday. My blogger friend Carmen made her goal of 64 oz of water too and so we had a water fight all day. Well really we just bitched to each other about how stupid we were to make such a goal when we both hate water.

At one point she had the freaking nerve to tell me she had only eaten less than 300 cals. I replied with, “Wouldn’t a Dairy Queen blizzard hit the spot right now Carmen?” Hey – I never said I was nice or played fair. Little did I know she lives within walking distance of one. And little did I know Carmen has Rambo balls of steel under her too big underwear. She went past DQ twice – and never got ice cream. (She’s a whore. I hate her.) But whatever – yesterday found me at 8pm guzzling down 32oz of water right before bed. Nice. My bladder nearly exploded and I had to get up to pee during the night. Mama was not happy about that. I love my sleep and I’d rather pee myself than get up and go to the bathroom…but I did it.

I did have sugar though – as a family after soccer we had ice cream and I had the cals for it so I ate it. No regrets. I was really close to 1200 cals (haven’t tallied it yet) so for me 2 out of 3 ain’t bad. I see in blog world a bunch of you kept your BYOC goals…I’m thinking of making it a repeat challenge each week. Just one goal for one day a week – so we can build on those successes.

Speaking of BYOC – anyone have any questions you want answered that I haven’t asked yet?

And finally – I’m feeling guilty this morning. My little girl is sick…a fever and sore throat and my husband is on vacay so of course as she was up all night he took care of her. He had plans today but will be very tired now. And being the Mother of the Year that I am….I feel guilty for sleeping. WTF?

Might I mention that up until this year my husband worked 3rd shift so I was on my own when my girls were infants – and my kids were not sleepers. I can’t tell you the number of days I went to work in a coma….but I did it. I mean in all honesty it’s his turn and he does it happily – but Jesus – I feel guilty. Why are women programmed that way? I think it goes back to that stupid witch Eve and that freaking apple Adam gave her. I just know it.

Oh and one more thing. While we’re on the subject of men…yesterday a guy I work with walked in my office and said, “Hey – you’re an accounting type person….would you have change for a 5?” That’s like me saying to him, “Hey – you have a penis…is your head stuck up your ass every day or just every other day?”

WHAT? I’m an accountant so now I’m a bank? I wasn’t aware that accountants carried wads of change in their pockets 24/7…so your dumb ass can buy a candy bar out of the vending machine without even gaining an ounce. I told him NO – I don’t have change….now take your penis and go.

Um yah – I totally had change. He’s one of the bathroom exploding take 45 minute poopers so I’m not a fan of his….

Holy shitballs – I am done.....and I'm not wearing underwear today.  How fun is that?  I'm sure you all wanted to know that so I threw it in there cuz I'm all about making my bloggie friends happy!

Be well, my friends,
~Draz

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

I may be crazy but what’s it to you?

Alright – I suppose I should warn you before I type. I don’t often “preach” here on my blog. I talk about MY life and how *I* feel but I try not to tell any of you to feel the same way. I don’t talk politics or religion and I try to keep it light or go to the other end of the spectrum and try to blog about serious topics that will help me. I try very hard never to judge any of you or your words. I only want to support you – period.

But today I’m gonna get on my soapbox and it might not be pretty. My hands are shaking as I type – that’s how passionate I am about this subject. Feel free to disagree with me but there’s a fine line between disagreeing and judging….so try to remember that.

My topic comes from a dear friend of mine over at Journey Beyond Survival. I just started reading her blog and haven’t gone back to the beginning but in just a few week’s time I am convinced she has the strength of 10 women + Rambo. She is Rambette….like Smurfette only way better. She has children with very real health concerns and yet every day she fights for her own health mentally and physically and her writing style is super unique. Her words touch me, she inspires me, and most days I’m just in awe of her. She is also pretty good friends with Mrs. Fatass…which I believe is how I found JBS…so thanks to Mrs. Fatass for that. I will always be grateful.

On days when I think I can’t go on – I literally think of all that JBS has been through and endures daily….and I go on. It’s that simple and that profound.  I don't even know her real name or know what she looks like but her words have changed my life.

Anywhoozle…the other day JBS posted a blog about meds – specifically meds for mental diseases and how people feel about them. She was prompted to write about this subject because another blog had touched on it. The comments on that blog were …um…let’s just say not what I expected. And I was angry. Normally I don’t let comments make me angry – but this day and this subject and the fact that many made the comments without ever feeling depression made me over the top angry. I was livid. I actually stopped reading them. And yah I probably misinterpreted and over-reacted but I don’t give a damn.  Maybe I just saw the comments as a reason to blog about this subject and get this out.  I don't know....all I know is it touched a nerve.

There were so many commenters that were anti-meds it shocked me. And yes I understand we as a nation are over-medicated. They all blamed the docs for dispensing it to young children who simply “misbehave”. All I have to say to that is yes, it may be true but what about the parent who fills that prescription and doses it out to the child every day? Aren’t they just as responsible for the “over-medicating”? We as a generation want fixes and we want them fast. Doctors oblige us because if they don’t – we get angry and we find another doctor.

That being said – there is a time and place for meds…and they save lives. Many comments said “exercise – that’s the same as meds and the body was meant to heal itself on it’s own or eat right or meditate”. Really?

When I was pregnant for the first time I walked 2 miles a day every day. I was in the best shape of my life. Had a terrific husband, the timing was perfect, had a cute house, a new car, great jobs and a healthy baby in my tummy that was planned. Everything was perfect. I couldn’t tell you one thing wrong with my life. Other than I had no joy. I rarely smiled. I found it hard to even get out of bed. The fact that everything was perfect made it all the more humiliating. If you for one second think that choosing to take an anti-depressant during that pregnancy was easy…then you’re insane yourself. You can bet I weighed the risks…but a mother who is dead on the inside and can’t get out of bed really isn’t a mother is she? I took the pills. I have no regrets. I would have died with that baby in me had I not. Of that, I am sure.

If you have never known depression or seen bipolar or cared for someone with schizophrenia or any other mental disease on the spectrum….I never want to hear you say you don’t think meds are the answer. I’m sorry – I just don’t. Until you live every day wanting to die…wondering how on earth you can walk yourself into the bathroom to pee or how you’ll muster the strength to literally run a comb through your hair without breaking down and sobbing….don’t talk to me about meds.

People throw around the word suicidal but until you feel it – it will always just be a word to you. Imagine – just take a second – and think about how it would feel to want to die…leave this world…forever…never come back….just to stop internal pain you can’t control. Can you imagine dying on purpose – and worse yet – wanting it instead of living when your own mind knows that it’s not okay to feel that way? If not for meds….I would be dead. It is that simple…and that awful.

My life was perfect. My health was perfect. My food was perfect. Literally.

How did I end up in a bed unable to move? Unable to work? Unable to eat or drink? Do you not think that if I could have eaten a certain food or done a certain exercise that I would have if that would have fixed it? I have a chemical imbalance. Period. It’s like a diabetic who needs insulin. I still have a damn near perfect life – I wouldn’t change a single thing. But you can bet your sweet ass that I am still on the lowest dose of meds possible….and if I go off…within days I will not be alive. For those commenters who are anti-meds because you’ve never lived in a black hole…I invite you to come watch a person will themself to die right in front of you and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. I pray your loved ones never ever feel this disease and I mostly pray you never tell them to get up and exercise or eat right or go meditate.

Sure there are some that that works for…but just for a second realize that there are those for which it does not. Am I less than because I need meds? Maybe in your eyes. It’s okay – I deal with close family members who are anti-meds too….and their own children hide the fact that to live they take meds too. Nice.

Live or die. Take meds or don’t.

The choice is simple to me….actually I have no choice. I owe it to my friends and family to live and reach out and get help. Do I do it lightly? No way. Do I wish I didn’t have to? Hell yes. Will I apologize for it? F*ck no.

I am alive and able to stand on my soapbox today because of Zoloft. If you feel the need to judge me for that and think I’m weak because of it…that’s fine.

The crazy woman in me just wanted you to know how I felt I guess. And if the day ever comes when you feel even a fraction of the pain and desperation I have felt…..rest assured I’ll be the first one to help you walk out of the black and into the light. It’s just the kind of doped up person I am.

Be well, my friends.
~Draz

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Shoe porn, heat stroke, and a Mrs. Fatass secret....

Um first of all - I am stupid.  Like for real.  90 degrees here - probably over 100 with the heat index and yours truly starts self-talking cocky crap like, "you can run in this, you're going to run a marathon so you better suck it up, you will burn tons of calories"....and the gullible stupid me believed the cocky arrogant me and went on a run.  I wanted to do 6 miles - I did 3.5 and walked some.  I was seconds away from calling my husband to come get me.  I swear to God I have heat stroke.  The bonus though is my boobs look hot in sweat.  Wanna see?  Okay. 

Oh and check out this back sweat.....I told you I was hot.

Okay now for the pictures of my 5 inch wedges.  My feet look funny but you guys asked for them so here you go!  (My husband wants to know why the hell I want pictures of my sweaty ass and my feet?  What should I tell him?  I couldn't think of a good answer...)

And yes I have fat calves...they will moo at you if you listen closely.

Okay now for the really important stuff.  Whootenannys.  Did you guys read Mrs. Fatass's blog today over at Did I Just Eat That Out Loud?  She totally says she found the secret to NO MORE razor burn.  I think she lies but hell it's worth a shot.  I personally think she just wanted a reason to post pictures of her skinny ass in a towel but whatever.  If I find out she was right I'll personally apologize on my blog to her....and it'll so be worth it if my vagizzle is as smooth as a Cabbage Patch doll's head.  For realz.  She knows I love her.

Hey Mrs. Fatass...if I do your little secret trick and I still get a razor bump I say you should have to do a BYOC mmkkaayy?  How's that for a challenge?

Lastly - my BYOC promise for tomorrow was to stay under 1200 cals and drink 64 oz of water.  I'm so gonna do it.......you just wait.  This girl is blowing June out of the water remember?  Still chubby BUT June is going down....that is all.

I do not belong....

Sometimes – well most times – I just don’t understand families. I don’t understand how siblings come from the same DNA and the same parents yet we are so different. If I wasn’t a sibling to my brothers and sister, I wonder would I choose them as a friend in my life? Or would they be an acquaintance? Because there is blood, there is an unwritten rule I must love. And I do. But it doesn’t mean I understand it.


We had a family meal at my parent’s house last night. It was good. Really fine. But as I left later all I felt was alone. I do not belong there. I don’t belong with them. I am different. I always have been. Since my choices make me ultimately different than them, I judge myself by different standards than them. I am looked at different…not on purpose…but still I feel it.

I
Do
Not
Belong.

I am the only one with kids…..which brings a whole lot of judgement from 3 people who have none but think they can even remotely know how it feels.

Until just recently, I was the only one with a mortgage. I’ve had a mortgage for 14 years. One of my brothers has one for just over a year now.

I am the only one who has owned numerous cars at a time and paid for them all with no help from my parents.

I am the only one who owns such things as lawn mowers, washers and dryers, furniture to fill a house, a utility trailer, a snow blower, a furnace, a motorcycle….or just simple things like a full set of silverware and pans.

I am the only one who has to upkeep and maintain the items above.

I am the only one who is married.

I am the only one who works full time with 2 part time jobs and a husband who does the same.

I am the only one who has never borrowed a singly penny from my parents.

I am the only one that never lived with a person of the opposite sex…until I married him.

I am the only one without a single college loan even though I too went and graduated with a 4.0.

I am the only one who has never been drunk.

I am the only one who has never flown.

I am the only one who doesn’t give a damn if my suit doesn’t say Armani.

I am the only one who opened their house up to our parents when they had nowhere else to go.

I am the only one who has to watch our parents have nothing to do with my kids.

I am the only one who has to watch my parents judge my husband.

I am the only one who doesn’t get a special get together when I visit because I live in the same town as my parents.

I am the only one who gets lectures on not attending church.

I am the only one with a credit score that I am proud of.

I am the only one who can get a loan with no questions asked.

I am the only one who has never been late on a payment for anything – ever.

I am the only one who worries about medical care for someone other than myself….I am only one of two who even carries insurance.

I am the one who survived a debilitating depression – so they could all learn to go get meds for themselves.

I am the only one who doesn’t take my parents for granted or think they should buy me things just because I am their daughter.


They are all single, some have relationships…none have even been close to marriage. My brothers sleep with quite a few women because they are hands down hot. They all do what they want, when they want – consequences aren’t something they care about. Daycare isn’t a word on their radar. They finish college or they don’t – they do it in 4 years or drag it out for 7. They need my signature or my parents to even own a vehicle…and then usually they need help with the payments. When they need a job, they get a resume from me. They keep jobs or they don’t – but they are never happy where they are. They move around and leave bills behind them. They never worry about a fever or a flu. They have never been up all night with a baby. They have never had to fight to save a marriage. They have never even had to mow their own grass. They don’t have grass.  The stress and struggle of running a household and a family is so overwhelming sometimes...and I can't commiserate with them about it...I cannot make them understand the weight I carry. 

Just once I wish I could....so they could see....and maybe judge me less from their pedestals. 

We are different. I am not better than them, they are not better than me. How I live is not the right way, nor is it the wrong way. How they live is not right or wrong either. It just is.

But the fact remains that in that group where I’m supposed to feel at home and feel comfortable…instead makes me feel like an outsider. It’s hard to not feel left out and different in a not so good way.

I’m not sad about this…it’s just something I’m observing as I live my life.

Everyone just wants to feel like they belong somewhere, don’t they? Where do you belong?

Be well, my friends.
Draz

Monday, June 21, 2010

Do you like my new shoes? Do ya? Huh? Huh?

I have to share these three things....

1. For those of you who don’t believe that ad campaigns work….well, here’s proof they do. Husband was taking his fish oil vitamin this weekend. 9 year old daughter says, “Dad, what are you taking pills for?” He says, “I take these to help my cholesterol.” She says, “Duh Dad, why don’t you just eat Cheerios? They lower cholesterol.”

Um yah, duh Dad. Score one for Cheerios.

2. I AM THE QUEEN OF POOP. Wait, let me rephrase that. That really didn’t come out like I wanted it to. Um okay – you know how MEN explode in the toilet next to my office daily and it sounds like Pearl Harbor and smells like death all damn day? Welllll ladies…I have solved ALL my problems. I got this bright idea to shut the bathroom door with the light on and I only told the girls here…..so when you walk by it looks like someone is in there but all us girls know that it’s empty and all clear to go in without plugging your nose or vomiting. Seriously – this sounds funny but I’m not kidding you – at least 3 men have walked by and turned around thinking the bathroom is occupied since I started writing this. Have I mentioned I’m a freaking genius? (oh and I’ll do anything to avoid poop or poop smell?)

3. Today I am wearing nearly 5 inch wedge heels. (Ha – I seriously just sat here and measured) And I’m sporting a new tube top that is pink and black and it makes my Victoria Secrets expensive boobs look HAWT! No one has said a word and dammit I know my calves look hot too. I mean you put any foot in 5 inch heels and they’ll look hot….well maybe not Chef Emeril’s but mine DO! I’m pissed no one has noticed. I did not shop so no one would notice. So I took the bull by the horns and marched straight into my co-worker’s office and said, “Do you like these shoes?” She said yes and then without any prodding said “I love your shirt too”.

Girls, this is your friendly neighborhood mama pimp telling you there's no shame in asking for compliments.  I will never be too proud to point out how hot my shoes are. So I forced her….big deal….I’ve done worse for less payoff.

********
Okay – that’s it lovies. Oh oh and I did 7 miles yesterday and got up at 4:30am to do 3.5 more this morning! I’m blowing my June goals out of the water and my Wednesday BYOC challenge is going down!!! What did you promise in BYOC on Friday? Whatever it was - I know you can do it!

Be well my friends,
~Draz

F*ck Your Day....

Ah Father’s Day. For once my husband didn’t have to work and for the life of me I cannot tell you how many times the words *It’s my day* came out of that man’s mouth.

And every time he said it, my response was, “F*ck your day.”

Now before you start poking me with sticks….hear me out. Mother’s Day usually sucks ass for me. Like dirty smell rotten ass. My husband usually works. There are no spas, pedicures or breakfasts in bed. There is no sleeping in. It’s just another day except for some reason my girls know it’s MY day and they turn into devils. Like seriously carrying around tiny pitchforks and sporting horns devils. They act like heathens – unlike I’ve ever seen…..and only because it’s Mother’s Day.

By the time my husband gets home that day I have my bags packed and divorce papers ready and I’ve contacted my online boyfriend Julio and arranged for a 6pm pickup time.

Soooo yesterday he got HIS day.

Sleep in? Um nope….6am….two little girls excited their Daddy is home jumped into bed right on his nads. Great way to start Father’s Day. I shoo them out about 50 more times before we finally get up at 9am because cartoons just aren’t babysitting them any longer.

Breakfast in bed? Um nope. I made bacon and you can bet your sweet ass I made him help me cook the hashbrowns. I had peanut butter sandwiches on MY day and I even got to clean up after myself. He should be happy he gets meat.

And all during this the girls are dying – like we have starved them for 5 weeks before today. We tell them we’re having eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, and toast. Can you imagine what kids in Ethiopia would do for a meal like that? Not mine. They want ice cream and Kool-aid. They pick today to suddenly start hating breakfast food. Great. Here’s an ice cream sandwich. Now go away because I have to figure out what to do with the shitloads of food I cooked for our lovely family breakfast.

For the rest of the day my sweet little angels fought, whined, cried, stomped their feet, and threw fits that would rival the best 1 year old. I’m not kidding.

Once the 4 year old heard the 9 year old say she had to go potty. The 4 yr old then commenced to race into the bathroom to “beat her” to the toilet. (yah, that’s a race I’d want to win). She then sat on said toilet and just sat there….doing nothing. The 9 year old stands over her yelling, “You’re not even peeing!” This goes on for about 5 minutes. Husband finally goes in and tells the 9 year old to go use her (might I had HUGE and all to herself like a princess) bathroom downstairs. 9 year old starts crying and yells “Maybe I don’t like my bathroom and maybe I don’t want to go down there” stomping like an elephant the whole way. The 4 year old never peed – and promptly got off the toilet. I guess she won that battle.

Imagine again what a kid in Ethiopia would do with a bathroom the size of Tahiti….or hey…just a toilet with running water? Yet today – in our house – my 9 year old is crying because we made her use said toilet and they have now successfully fought over toilet location and who gets there first. I never went in to either one – you know me and my toilet phobia.

The whole day was like that. Devils I tell you. Little gorgeous devils who turn it on and turn it off just like that. It’s enough to make you insane.

Especially when the world has dubbed it YOUR day.

So we went to bed that night and I turned and said, “Honey I’m sorry you had a bad day.” He said, “Yah, I’m sure you are.”

I said, “You don’t think I made you have a bad day on purpose do you? How could you think that of me?”

He said, “Well it is a little suspect in that every time I tried to remind you it was my day you replied with “F*ck your day”.

Oh shit – that kinda was a dead giveaway wasn’t it. Well hell. The day you try to push two huge watermelons out of your tiny little nostrils and feel just a little of the pain I did during childbirth is the moment you might get a day just for YOU. Don’t call me until then.

You’re lucky I didn’t make you do dishes….cuz dude…that’s just one more thing I got to do on MY day.

And you’d be smart to kindly ignore all those Dads posting things on their Facebook like “Oh my wife and kids made me breakfast in bed because it’s MY day.” Or “Oh my wife and kids bought me a Harley Davidson and let me go riding all day on MY day.” Or “I slept in until noon on MY day.”

First off – they lie. Second – I bet they don’t even have kids.  Third - if his wife bought him a Harley it's cuz she maxed out the credit card on Coach purses just the day before.

If it makes you feel better just comment back to those guys and just simply say, “F*ck your day.”

I guarantee you’ll feel better....I did anyway.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

In between the lines...

You changed the oil in my car as a teenager and I never even asked you to.
You worked 7 days a week and tons of overtime - so much that as a child I'd forget what you looked like - just so I had food to eat and clothes to wear.
You let me stand beside you in your shop and try to help you so I could pretend I had a relationship with you.
You come to my daughter's soccer games now because you couldn't come to anything of mine as a child back then.
You kept every Father's Day card I ever gave you though you couldn't tell me you loved them with your own words.
You once gave me a car free of charge.
You built a bench in my garage and never asked for anything in return.
You emailed me once on Valentine's Day because you can't say the words you typed to my face.
Once you came over in the middle of the night when I was alone to kill a bat in my house.
When I was in the middle of a deep depression where I couldn't literally move...you allowed me to stay hidden in your house.  You couldn't help me...but you could keep me safe.
When your house was taken in mere seconds by a flood....you let me help you rebuild though it nearly killed your pride.

You are not perfect...but you are mine.  I've always said I'd change a lot about you....but then you wouldn't be you.  You may not say you love me and I may not think you are proud of me....but the fact is you do and you are.  Because it can't be in your words...I have to look for it in your actions.  And if I look close enough...it is there....loud and clear.

You may not be all I want you to be or think you should be....but if I let you be...you can be enough.

Who you are and who you are not...made me who I am and who I am not.

I don't think I have it in me to be ashamed of that.  Who I am today is good enough.

And because I can't say it to you just like you can't say it to me....I'll say it here.

I love you Dad.  Thank you for loving me - in between the lines of your actions.


Friday, June 18, 2010

I swear to God - this is my last post today.....but DiZneDiVa needs YOU!

I can't help it...I have to do one of these a week....to pay it forward...

I found a new lap bandster (banded in March 2010) and she'd really like some more followers and support so could my awesome lap band followers (and anyone else too please) check out her blog (link below) and help her if you would?  She could use your lap band specific advice that you're all so famous and loved for!

Thanks!

Her name is Maria at DiZneDiVa....tell her Drazee sent you!

There's got to be some hero in me...

Wow - I mentioned an anonymous commenter telling me about a song that helped him/her in dealing with insecurities and hiding within.  I just listened to it.  It's worth sharing.  It speaks to me.  The song/video is here.  Listen if you would and let me know what you think.

This song makes me wonder what kind of person I could have been had things been different growing up.

I imagine I'd be more successful.  Actually I'd stop reaching for success knowing I managed it long ago - the moment I was born.

I imagine I'd be more loving.  Or maybe I'd already know that my heart carries more than enough love for one lifetime.

I imagine I'd be someone...really someone..someone who changes other's lives so I would have worth.  Or maybe I'd finally realize you don't have to change anyone's life to have worth.

I imagine I'd go to bed at night and feel peace with who I am.  But maybe I'd know that who I am inside is peace at it's purest.

I imagine I'd give more of me and be selfish less.  Or maybe I'd be whole knowing I did what I could with what I had and that is always enough.

I imagine I'd never doubt my self-worth or my beauty or my ability to make people proud.  Maybe I'd realize the me that I am is indeed beauty and pride....

I imagine I'd smile more, talk more, leave the house more...just live more.  Maybe by now...I'd have seen....that there is a hero in me - inside and outside.

I've seen the hero in all of you.....do you see her too?

I think there might be one in me....and I won't stop until I find her.

Thank you anonymous commenter....I hope one day you will be un-anonymous so I can say thank you to the hero you truly are to me.

**********************

By the way these are the lyrics:

He's lived as long as he possibly can


Given the circumstance

'Cause he's protected himself from the world

He never gave it a chance

And he says: Here in my security

I've put a limit on my self potential and my possibility



She's seen these walls and they never change

Everything's in it's place

Her relationships so neatly arranged

Down to religion and race

And she says: Here in my security

I don't make a move unless my friends approve

I do what's expected of me



And as I grow older

And there's so much that I do not know

I'm drawn to those who are bolder

And go where no one dare to go



And I sleep

And I dream of the person I might have been

Then I'm free again

And I speak

Like someone who's been to the highest peaks

And back again

And I swear

That my grass is greener than anyones

'Til I believe again

Then I wake

And the dream fades away and I face the day

And I realize

There's got to be some hero in me



They've been supressing their every desire

They do nothing on a whim

She's lost her sparkle and he's lost the fire

Their future looks very dim



And I say: Here in my security

I've simply let myself go

I've developed a co-dependency



And as I grow older

So many places that I've never been

Time's tapping on my shoulder

I hope it's never too late to begin



And I sleep

And I dream of the person I might have been

Then I'm free again

And I speak

Like someone who's been to the highest peaks

And back again

And I swear

That my grass is greener than anyones

'Til I believe again

Then I wake

And the dream fades away and I face the day

And I realize

There's got to be some hero in me




BYOC - Bring Your Own Craziness...

Alright my little fireflies....I'm late with BYOC.  Please forgive me...I was being a mega girl today and took off work to SHOP and get my nails done.  I went alone but I thought of all of you all morning so I didn't really feel alone.  I talked to more strangers than I could count today....and the earth didn't swallow me up whole....amazing huh?  I bought 2 purses and 4 pairs of shoes (even leopard ones and 3 inch wedges).  I admit I bought shoes cuz my fat ass wouldn't fit in any of the pants I tried on....and that's the same reason I bought the purses.  It works right?

Oh AND no one is allowed to throw stones at me BUT I have postponed my marathon.  I said postponed not cancelled.  This isn't the year for it...not with Chicago and our first family vacation.  I didn't realize a marathon can be quite costly - entry fees, shoes, socks, books, hotel, gas, etc.  I will however keep training like I'm doing one as planned and therefore when I train next year it'll just be easier.  Please please don't hate me...I'm still going to read, plan, and research and train so you'll hear me talk about it still.  I refuse to let you all down after the support you gave me...

Now BYOC:

**  Carmen helped me with most of these questions...I was brain dead after shopping.  Thank you Carmie!

1.  If your heart had a singing voice, whose would it be?

Okay first of all I'd pick a man's voice.  Dumbest ever but it'd be Conway Twitty.  That man can give me chills with his voice...it's deep and manly and full of feeling.

2.  What is your most disgusting habit?

Hmm...I think if you asked my husband this he would say leaving my underwear on the bathroom floor - literally mere inches from the hamper.  I pick them up every morning the next day but for the night - that's where they stay.  I have no idea why.  (I should lie and tell you I bit my TOE nails and then eat them but I'm just not that flexible.)

3.  Carmen and I were talking about Chicago and our fears...for those of you going (and those of you not you can answer as if you were going)...what is your biggest fear?

Mine is definitely the whole damn thing.  Driving to Jenny's alone - for the first time.  Traveling without my husband for the first time.  Being homesick.  Looking like an idiot.  Disappointing my followers in real life.  Looking like Rosie O'Donnell in my bikini.  Eating like an ox next to you bird-eaters.  And the list goes on.

4.  This isn't so much a question but a challenge.  Name one thing you will do for just one day next week in the name of health and commit to it on your blog and to us.

I'm going to name three cuz I'm an overachiever.  I'm picking Wednesday.  Wednesday is the day I will drink 64 oz of water, eat no sugar and stay under 1200 calories.  All the other days I'm gonna eat like a whale and guzzle beer with licorice....but Wednesday I will kick ass.

5.  Whose blog or comment stuck with you the most this week?

For the first time in a long time I had an anonymous comment on my blog and it was a good one.  She was commenting on my Hide and Seek post and told me about a song and it's lyrics and how it helped her.  I thought that was so sweet to take the time to post the lyrics for me and I plan to listen to the song this week.  Sometimes I fear anonymous commenters but this one made my day.

And of course - all your comments on believing I can do a marathon - touched me to my very heart and soul.  Every time I run - I carry your words with me....and my feet feel lighter because of it.


Thursday, June 17, 2010

None of your business....

Something we never thought would happen – has happened.

It is shocking really. We feel like we’ve entered the twilight zone. We couldn’t have planned this if we had tried. We have yet to figure out if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. We’re just so confused…it happened so fast…we didn’t see it coming. Although the Hooter’s outing should have been a dead giveaway.

Yes, my friends…it has happened. Me and Jenny’s husbands have become friends.

Hide your children! Shield your eyes! Try to stop shrieking in horror!

You all might be thinking this is a good thing but we’re not so sure. This could lead to “man only” events like our “girls only” event in Chicago. And while a Chicago trip is fine for us….we cannot say the same for them.

It all started when Jenny and I were chatting away on the phone like best friends do and all of a sudden Jenny’s husband says “let me talk to Rambo (that’s my husband remember?)”. First we dropped the phone in shock. Then it was 20 questions before we handed the phones over.

What are you going to talk about? Who are you going to talk about? Why would you need to talk to him? How long are you going to talk?

So we finally give up our conversation and Jesus - they went on and on. I heard dates mentioned, guns and range shooting, hunting, Cabela’s, trips, times, beers, ball scratching, etc. I paced nervously back and forth until they were done. It nearly killed me. Then I politely asked if I could have the phone back to talk to MY best friend.

My freaking phone call had been hijacked. Ridiculous.

Pretty soon they’re going to discuss shaving their balls while they fake an orgasm before they try on lingerie. Then they’ll get pedicures together and go shoe shopping. They’ll bitch about their love handles and want to do a vlog on OUR blog.

I’m going to need therapy. (well, more intense therapy anyway)

After the phone call ended I asked a million more questions. What did you talk about? What did you plan? Where are you going? Did you run that by me and Jenny first?

I got a smirk and a “none of your business”. I nearly went into convulsions. This is not good girls…not good at all.

We’ve created monsters. We TOLD them to go to Hooters and have a good time.

When Jenny's husband let my husband drive his new truck I should have known this was bound to happen.  And now this….

It’s enough to make me do the P word. And shove forks in my eyes while drinking gasoline.

You think this is how they feel when Jenny and I talk on the phone and start planning things??


Tuesday, June 15, 2010

The P word.

You all know how much I hate puke…the word, the thought, basically anything that has to do with the P word.


Well I’m so nervous about this stupid marathon that I want to puke. I think it might make me feel better – no lie.

Yes, yes, I’m being dramatic. If you know me and Draz by now – you know that’s our middle name. Drama.

Most of you are thinking – my God – would she shut up already? Millions of people run races. But for me – I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again…it’s not just a race.

I know TWO people who have completed marathons. That’s it. That’s all I have to go by. One I barely talk to. The other I work with and he’s a great guy but he’s a guy. He just sat in my office and prepped me. Shoes, water bottles, Goo (packets of food you eat during a race to give you endurance), special socks, etc. My mind is swimming.

I asked him if he ever thought he couldn’t do it….he said, “NO”. That’s a man for you.

I haven’t even started training yet and I’m freaking out. I need to stay off the internet. Everything I read says you gain weight but most of those people also admit they ate everything under the sun cuz they were hungrier. I’m going to have to be diligent about what I eat. Part of me is contemplating completely giving up the scale until the race. It may play with my mind too much. I just don’t know.

I’m scared. Like little girl want to pee my pants in a corner scared.

But man – can you imagine what it would feel like to cross the finish line and run straight into my husband’s arms? To come home and tell all the people who said I was crazy that I’m still crazy but I finished it?

To mark it off my bucket list?

And hell – I get a new pair of shoes….so it’s totally worth it right?


Monday, June 14, 2010

Can't you just pretend?

Once again I sit here wondering why on Earth I talk to anyone but you guys.

It’s my own fault…..I told a few people I am planning to do a ½ marathon.

You would think I told people I want to be impregnated with Darth Vader’s sperm. That’s the look I got. And just to clarify – I’m not getting the “you totally so cannot accomplish that” look. Nope. I’m getting the “why the hell would you want to do something so stupid?” look. And then of course the ever-endearing oh so encouraging “You are crazy” response that I love. Thanks assholes. Thanks.

Seriously – am I and you my blogger buddies the only people on this Earth who aspire to be more and do more? Doesn’t anyone else around me want to find a goal and work towards it and accomplish it and celebrate it?

YES - I know this marathon will SUCK a fat baby’s ass. How dumb do you think I am?

YES - I’m sorry I have become a fitness and health fanatic. I guess for me – it’s all or none. I can’t go back to who I was before and I can’t feel like I did before….so yah my goals have changed from “how fast can I eat the whole box of Krispi Kreme donuts” to “I wonder if I can run a marathon?”

Would it kill you to *pretend* you’re excited for me? Seriously - did you forget my husband works with hardened criminals so I know people who know people sooo at the very least you should be nice to me and blow smoke up my ass?

I know that when I was heavier and I was around athletes and they did things like marathons – things I thought I’d never do – yes – I was jealous. Of course I wanted to tie them up and shove sweet tarts in their mouths washed down with Mountain Dew. Of course I thought of running them over with my car daily.

BUT you can bet your sweet ass that when they told me they were going to run a marathon or climb a hill or hit a big weight loss number that I jumped up and down with them and said WAY TO GO and said “I knew you could do it” and told them they were worth it and I was proud of them.

Because I really was.

People think once you lose weight and are thinner – it’s over. They think you don’t struggle daily or you don’t have to exercise anymore just to maintain. They think your fitness goals stop. Some of them even think it’s easy.

It isn’t. I have to keep challenging myself. I have to be careful not to revert back to food just for pleasure.

So to the jerkoffs that I surround myself with I have this to say:

While you can’t believe I would be stupid enough to run for 13.1 miles….well…I hope you choke on your donut.

And one day when you wake up and you get healthy and you set a goal to complete your journey…I’ll still be your biggest cheerleader….because geez – it’s just the right thing to do.

Oh and you can kiss my ass too. My soon to be skinny non-jiggly marathon completing ass.

I think I might run this race wearing nothing but tight shorts and a hot sports bra just to piss you off even more.  I'll be sure to show your husband the pictures of me glistening in perspiration..... 

*******************

By the way my lovelies....this week I will surpass quite a few of my June goals - YAY me huh?  I was up at 4:30AM - that's as in before the birds are even awake - doing 3.5 miles.  Yesterday I did 9 miles. The assholes I am surrounded by each day need to keep telling me I'm crazy...cuz it just makes me run harder and longer....I'll show them all.  (insert evil laugh)

And thank you to each and every one of you who never doubted me....I needed that.  I am not only running this race for me.....I'm running it for each of you because without your encouragement I wouldn't be doing it...and I mean that.

*********************
Oh and one more thing....I answered the phone like 3 times this weekend!!!  And it wasn't Mom, husband or Jenny!  Woot!  That was Sat and Sunday's new thing. 

Friday I stopped in at a friend's house and stayed for drinks and pizza.....wowser huh?  Last night I even invited myself on a walk with two girls.....did you hear me?  I invited myself!!  Who would have thunk it? 

This morning I said HI to everyone who walked past me on my morning run/walk instead of pretending not to see them.  Look at that - birds aren't even awake and Draz is out farting gumdrops!!

Maybe I really am Moses....cuz miracles are happening all around me!

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Could some of you please blow smoke up my jiggly ass please?

Sooooooo - lots in my little crazy head today.  Draz is in the corner picking his nose and Sheniqua is wailing in the other corner.  She is peeeesssed off.  I ran 3 miles and walked 3 miles this morning and burned 730 calories and made a huge decision to finally get her off my waist and she is gonna need some therapy by the time I'm done with her.  She's also gonna need to find a new home that's for sure.  Anyone want her?  You can have her for FREE.

Wanna know what my decision was?  Okay - I'll tell you - IF you promise not to freak out. And no one is allowed to tell me I can't do it and it's the stupidest idea you've ever heard (even if that's what you think). 

Nope - you're all required to blow rainbows up my jiggly ass and tell me it's the best idea I've ever had.

Here it is.  Wow - saying it out loud makes it real.  (My God you'd think I decided to go get a bikini wax or something for all the drama I'm creating huh?)

** I'm going to run a 1/2 marathon....13.1 miles. **

Notice I didn't say I'm going to try.  I said I WILL do it.  I have my training all mapped out in a spreadsheet.  I have my race date.  I will train for 14 weeks.  I have my husband cheering me on.  I have Jenny telling me I can do anything I put my mind to.  And I have me - for the first time in my life - believing in me.

Now to some of you I know you're thinking...geez Louise - she should calm down.  It's a damn race.  People do it all the time. 

Yup - people do.  *I* don't.  I never would have attempted it.  Never would have even thought about it.  Never would have even wanted to do it.  Never would have thought I could have.

Now - today - it's more than a race to me.  It means a lot of things...many I can't put into words. 

And because I'm a big dork and feel like I have to "give" something back I have decided to organize a 5k in our town.  It will be sponsored by a new group I hope to create called PHS.  Parents Helping Students.  I will raise money through entry fees and donations and set up a fund. All teachers at our school will be given the opportunity to email me whenever there is a monetary need...even something such as crayons or paper...and our committee will vote on whether or not to give them the money they need.  It could be a really great thing considering our teachers struggle with supplies and field trip costs and such.  And it could help students who aren't able to afford basic supplies.

Every year because I'm an overachiever my daughter is the top fundraiser for our school. She raises about $1400 and I never know where a dime of it goes and THAT PISSES ME OFF.  If I form this group - and put all my efforts into this - I will know where every penny goes. I will be giving back.  I will be using my passion. 

Whaddya think?  Am I crazy?  Lost my mind?  Okay - wait - do not answer that.  Remember the rules.  You can only tell me I can do this - that it's the greatest idea since sliced bread - and that you wish you were me minus Sheniqua hanging on my hips.  Got it?

Okay now be good little followers and do as you are told mmkkaayy? 

Seriously people - I'm lacking in confidence and doubting myself to no end here so if you can pretend for a moment that you think I can do this....well...thanks in advance for that.  I so owe you one.

Oh and right before I decided to do this marathon I saw a chick from town in her bikini and she stood up and she had 6 pack abs.  She's had two kids - just like me.  I hate her.  I nearly ran over there and cut her eyes out so she couldn't see me when I stole her abs.  What the hell is she doing showing those things off?  What-the-f*ck-ever.  Stupid blonde puny assed six pack abber. 

Bet she can't run a 1/2 marathon.  The witch. 

Friday, June 11, 2010

Call me Moses and of course BYOC!

Let’s start with a little progress report before BYOC – just cuz bragging is fun. I’m just shy of 20 miles, over 2300 cals burned and over 6.2 hours of time in and have worked out 7 of the last 10 days. Weehaw! Dare I say “I’m back on the road again” like Willie Nelson would say? I also just bought pants just a few weeks ago and I’m scared they are going to fall off when I walk. I’m not kidding. Wanna know the dumbest thing though? No weight loss. That’s my body for you. Lose fat – gain muscle extremely fast and therefore the scale weight never goes down. I tone. I lose inches. It is annoying.


Also – about my post yesterday….first, thank you for the comments. I’m always amazed that so many of you feel like I do…I start out writing feeling alone and end up feeling well – together – with all of you. I think as a way to break out of my shell I’m going to try to do one thing a day I would never have normally done.

Last night I did 3.5 miles with the husband. A friend wanted to go too and normally I would have found every excuse to just not go…cuz walking with someone else would be too hard. But I did it. I embraced it. I talked. I chatted. It was GOOD.

Today after work I am stopping at a friend’s house to drop off some paperwork. I would NEVER have done this before. My husband would have done it for me. Not today – today I do it. It will be hard but my God – it is not impossible and she’ll like the visit and it’ll be GOOD.


One day at a time girls…one day at a time. I’ll be your Moses if you’ll be my shepherds. Can those of you who share my fears join me? Can you do one thing a day that takes you out of your shell? Like pick up the phone? Call someone? Etc.? And then promise to blog about it so I can gain inspiration and courage from you? (Did I mention I can be quite selfish?)

*********************

And now BYOC *Bring Your Own Craziness*
(5 questions you can answer on your blog if you so choose in an effort to get to know each other better):

1. What was your first pet?

• Not sure if this was my first but it’s the oldest I can remember. It was a black dog…and I loved it. Its name was BJ – which stood for Black Jack. He disappeared one day and we later found him dead in a hunter’s trap. I cried for days. My poor dog. After that I never really liked dogs…it was too hard to love them and lose them……and I’ve never had one since that I loved the same way. My heart won’t allow it.

2. When did you lose your virginity? (Okay – before you throw stones and break out the holy water – first of all – this is not my question. It came from a follower and I obliged cuz I like it…so there.) Obviously don’t answer if this is too personal…..but don’t hate me for putting it out there.

• I was 18. I had been with my husband since I was 15 and I waited until I turned 18 so that I knew at that time that I was an adult who made the decision for ME and I would be an adult if there were consequences of my actions. Was it hard to wait? Hell yes. Especially when all my friends were doing it. But my parents put the fear of God in me and told me if I ever got pregnant they would disown me completely…and I knew they were dead serious so I wasn’t willing to take the risk. And remember? I was perfect – they told me no premarital sex and I did as told. Until I was 18 and I was my own adult and I knew I was going to marry him…I had known that since the moment I met him.

3 & 4 – I’m combining these two cuz this answer could be long. A follower (thanks Steph) asked if I could ask what a daily meal plan looks like for each of you – out of curiosity and out of possibly learning new foods to try.

For me – my routine has been to cook on Sunday for the whole week. I make enough for me for breakfast and lunch for 5 days and then plan what supper will be so the husband can start it before I get home. I rotate the same supper meals each week. I find if I plan the whole week I make way better choices…because the choice is already made. If I don’t bring my lunch – I usually would eat out. Same with supper – if it’s not planned – I would be tempted to get take out. My little plan helps us save money too. But yes – I eat the same things every day and I don’t get tired of it – the only thing that changes is supper. I crave routine and I know what’s coming. My day looks like this – if I stay on track.

2 fried eggs
1 turkey sausage

3 oz chicken
¼ c potatoes
¼ cup cheese soup
broccoli

wheat pasta w/ meat sauce
or burgers and potatoes
or chicken w/ brown rice
or roast w/ potatoes
or tilapia and hashbrowns

and usually then air popped popcorn w/ little to no butter.

My goal is at or under 1200 calories.

5. Repeat question: What blog or blog comment stayed with you or stuck with you the most this week and why?

* Well I just read my BFF Jenny’s blog and saw her cute new office pics and I’m super happy for her. She deserves this so much!!! Girl Bandit’s post after my Hide and Seek blog was so heartfelt and Jacquie is healing and Kagead is going in for surgery and I think even Grace is healing too – oh and BG is an SOB. And Band-Babe was the bravest of all this week and my heart aches for her and bursts with pride. And Steph had a Mom post that I certainly related to. I think it’s been a good week and the summer challenge has everyone motivated. My WIDTH appeared on Jack Sh*t’s list so that was pretty fun – I felt famous for a second!


Thursday, June 10, 2010

Wanna play Hide and Seek?

My little blog topic today was sparked by my dear idol Julie The Accidental Fat Chick (this woman has the strength of 20 men I kid you not. Her husband is deployed and she is a Mom and she has a job and finishes fitness challenges that would make Superman pee in his red tights.)

Julie was having a bad day and felt alone and I commented and told her she could have my phone number and call me any time of the day or night.

Um yah – then I gave her my number and proceeded to tell her it was useless. Wow – nice one Draz. Another shining moment of mine.

I told Julie she could call the number but I’d never answer. I never even turn the thing on…wow – another nice one….but that I swear to God I want to be here for her.

Funny thing is – Julie laughed…cuz she gets it. She has phone stage fright too. And hence – my topic.

More and more I have realized that blogging and technology and email feed into my recluse tendencies…and it’s probably not a good thing. *sigh*

All my life I have been scared. Scared of being forgotten (which I was) and then more scared that I would ever be noticed. I wanted desperately for someone in my family to see me…really see me and take note and care. When they didn’t – I found it easier to blend in, not talk, clam up, never try new things, never branch out, never leave the comfort of my room growing up. I was safe there. I felt noticed there. Outside of there – I was just no one. No one encouraged me or told me I could do more and be more or succeed at anything I put my mind to – so I didn’t cuz I figured they were right. So I did what I did – which was excel at perfection and try to prove them all wrong…and it still was never enough.

As I got older – body imperfections only added to me never wanting to go much of anywhere. I had huge boobs that classmates made fun of that got in the way of my passion of running. I was not skinny enough compared to all my friends. Then after pregnancy I hated my body even more and what I had let it become. It was so easy to hide…and the tendency came easy from so many years of practice.

But it’s not good and I don’t want either of my daughters to have these fears. I bet you didn’t know that I …

….do not answer the phone for anyone BUT Jenny, my husband and my mother….unless I have to. I work two part time jobs for the community I live in and get tons of phone calls for that and at my full time job. I do not answer the phone. It is inconvenient to get the voice mails BUT it’s better than talking to them.

….run from anyone in a store I know? If I see someone I will literally go the other way…and be nervous the whole time about running into them and therefore do not enjoy the trip? I have done this for my own father. I have seen him and gone the other way. I have literally walked past people with my head turned so they don’t know it’s me. These are people I like and even love – but I cannot talk to them. I do not want to be seen.

….make up excuses not to go anywhere alone or anywhere at all? Migraines and kids come in real handy a lot. I have missed funerals and wake, parties and obligations and outings…and I live with that regret.

….have never really been on vacation or driven myself out of town beyond about 30 miles? It’s too scary and I don’t believe I can. I wasn’t allowed to drive anywhere as a teen…it was too dangerous…they believed I’d wreck or some man would find me and kill me. No – I’m not kidding.

It is ridiculous. And I’m so over it. I am not that scared little girl anymore. And it doesn’t hurt me to do things and talk. Dammit – I am capable.

Blogging, texting, Facebook, and email are my go to lines of communication and while I love that – I also know it is my crutch. I use them because I fear the real thing. Eye contact and voice tones. Scary stuff right?

My life has always been about being invisible. Create no waves, do the perfect thing…hoping to get noticed….but being comfortable knowing those things just keep me invisible. After a while I told myself I wasn’t worth being noticed….wasn’t worth the time or the effort. And now it’s what I crave…no one looking at me. Please – just look at someone else who deserves it…

Now when I see people look at me I think there’s something wrong with me. That they are looking because they’ve never seen anything so hideous. Or they are thinking I need to lose more weight. Or my clothes are nasty. My mind can’t imagine they’re looking at me for any good reason.

And so I fight it. I go to Jenny’s and I walk around in a bikini like I made the thing myself. And no one except Jenny and my husband know the courage it takes on the inside….which is why all day they both tell me I am beautiful. I wish they didn’t have to do that. I wish I felt it on my own but thank God for them……or I’d be that girl I used to be in the lawn chair who “forgot” her suit and missed the fun. Hell – I wouldn’t have been at the party actually.

I am changing. I have proof.

I recently joined a book club. It is fantastic. I will not stop going.

I recently attended a girl’s night out. I fought the overwhelming urge to cancel with everything in me. I’m glad I didn’t. I will go again.

I talked to three strangers the other day when shopping. THREE. Men. They just started talking to me and I believe with everything in me that it is because I have opened my spirit to people. I do not put out the closed off vibe I used to. I am willing to talk back. And I did. And I left those three men with smiles on their faces. They were older gentlemen, nice men…and I didn’t start the conversations and no – they were not hitting on me. One guy’s wife was standing right next to him so I know….

I have picked up the phone at work and at home – for people other than the ones stated above. I did not die. It wasn’t bad.

I am going to Chicago though the mere thought of meeting everyone gives me hives and makes me want to throw up. I will do it. And I will have the time of my life.

I will drive myself to Jenny’s house for the first time ever – alone. I will turn up the music and sing my heart out and not call Jenny every 5 minutes panicking. I will get there. Safe. And sound.

I say what I think - out loud - to my mother instead of what she thinks I'll say or instead of the right thing to say.  The other day she told me that my dad was possibly going to let her have her family Cmas at their house again (he said one time - never again).  I said, "He should - he owes you one after getting smashing drunk at the last one and saying he was going to kill himself in front of my 8 year old."  She actually took a physical step backward.  Draz doesn't say those kinds of things after all.

I will go on vacation to meet in-laws I have avoided for literally 20 years. Most have never met me. I will knock their socks off. They will be sad when I leave (I hope).

*******************************

I am so done hiding. It gave me nothing and accomplished nothing. It only made me less of me and added to my inner and outer “fat”. I’m on a quest to be healthy and get rid of my outer fat and I’ll be damned if I’m not going to clean up this inner fat too. I am worth it. I have to be right?

I have two little girls and I’m on a mission to make sure the only hiding they ever do is in a game of “Hide and Seek”.

Imagine who and what I could have been by now if someone back then had just taken my hand and said, “Draz, come out….the door is open, the sun is shining and your potential is just past that horizon. I’ll even go with you so you’re not scared.”

I will never know and while that’s painful I don’t have time to think about it…..cuz “the door is open and the sun is shining”…..and I refuse to stay inside any longer.


Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Everyone needs a penis stick....

Soohohoho……I’d like to introduce myself.


Hi. My name is Get the f*ck out of my way or I’ll mow you down without an ounce of guilt or regret.

Happy Wednesday. Yah sure.

Today I wondered out of farting gumdrops and pooping daisies in Care Bear Land into the Land of who the f*ck cares and does someone have a scissors so I can cut these muffin tops off?

I
Am
Crabby.

And I ain’t kidding. Fine. I’ll admit it. Aunt Flo is knocking on my door and I’m using it as an excuse…which I hate. I’ve never ever been a woman to blame my moods or feelings too much on AF. Let’s face it – when I was overweight I felt like crap every day so I never noticed when/if AF was coming because in general I felt like crap anyway. Now that I am healthier and thinner I feel it all. Ever since my tummy tuck I am even super sensitive to ovulation for cripe’s sake. I never had bloating issues when I was fatter – um cuz it’s pretty hard to tell if you’re bloated when you are 226 pounds. I was a bloat. But now when my stomach is flat thanks to surgery – if I’m bloated – I don’t just look bloated. I look like a heifer about to calf.

Okay – yes – I am exaggerating. But let me have my day – my fat day. Today is a “let’s see how many flaws we can find in the mirror day”. Today is “let’s see how irrational my crazy mind can get in making up new flaws that don’t exist day.” Today is “crazy Draz should have stayed in bed day.”

I put a dress on this morning. Two words. Stuffed sausage. There ain't a pair of Spanx in this universe that could make me walk out of my house wearing that dress.

I tried on 4 pairs of shorts – not one buttoned. I picked up the fifth pair and decided to stupidly read the tag. Size 6. I laughed out loud in my closet. Who the f*ck put these in here? Are these even mine? Am I in a midget’s closet cuz these won’t go past my cankles? SIX – that’s a number of burgers I can eat in one sitting – not a number I can put on my body this day.

Did I seriously fit into these clothes just last summer? Who am I kidding? I nearly stood there and cried. I have muffin tops the size of Miss Piggy’s ass today. Even my ears look fat…and trust me…yesterday I had skinny ears.

I guess it’s not all bad. I have 16 miles in already and it’s only the 9th. I’ve worked out 6 of the past 8 days. I’d rather pour gasoline in my eyes than work out tonight but I will try.

Oh and just so I don’t forget that the world has a sense of humor – I ate a fortune cookie this morning and the fortune read:

“Rarely do great beauty and great virtue dwell together as they do in you.”

Really – have you seen my chubby white caboose? I got enough dimples in my ass that people mistake it for the Grand Canyon - which would be completely fine if I could just charge admission.

That fortune would be all perfect and Winnie-the-Pooh-ish if I knew what the hell virtue meant AND if could use the word beauty and me in the same sentence without throwing up in my mouth.

Today is not a day for fortunes. It is a day for saying f*ck way too many times. It is a day to hit people with large sticks and laugh at them when they start to cry. It is a day to feel and look like a leper. (We’ve been over this – I said I was going to exaggerate.)

I swear to God if anyone comes near from the card carrying penis club I will rip said pecker off and beat them over the head with it. Everyone needs a penis stick right?

Tomorrow good ‘ol blow rainbows up your ass Draz might be back and we can all once again feel a sense of peace and calm. Until then – there’s only one good way to end this post without saying the word f*ck again…I’m really trying here…but it’s all I got.

Word.


Tuesday, June 8, 2010

New blogger Melissa at Love Meli Meli.....

Hey love drops - so we ALL love and need followers...and I just stumbled upon this one and know she'd love some support...so if you can - follow her blog and tell her Draz sent you!  Just paying it forward.

Also Melissa if you are reading this - I noticed you said you wanted to find someone in Florida who has had lap band surgery...do you follow Amy W. at Cheese and Sunkist?  She's in Florida and so are a few others that could totally help you.  I'm sure they'll reach out to you! 

http://lovemelimeli.blogspot.com/

A summary in rhyme....

My dear little bloggie buddies…it seems I have nothing to write.
I try to think of something clever but nothing comes out just right.

I think I might have a panic attack cuz I think I have the dreaded blogger’s block.
I’m like a dancer without a song, lingerie without pizza…my roll has no rock.

Please don’t give up on me yet cuz the wheels in my brain are still definitely a’churning.
My head is filled with all new Drazil style blogs cuz I gotta keep Hell’s fires a’burning.

There’ll probably be some more talk of the lingerie and the turkey-necked vagizzle.
A girl has got to stay on her game you know…can’t let the fire become just a sizzle.

My wedding anniversary is today and I have ever so much to be thankful for.
A man I love and you blog friends who have turned me into a raging whore.

Oh yes – before I met you guys I was a walking saint and even had a bright and shiny halo.
Now I have fishnet stockings, a bald whootananny and I know where ass jingles go.

I’m going to Hell – of that there’s no doubt….
All for the things I’ve talked here about.

Farting gumdrops, exploding men, Martha Stewart and the ever present va-jay-jay.
Puking and sewer-assed husbands…even tampons and what crazy mother-in-laws say.

No – you just can’t read my blog if you’re faint of heart.
Cuz I live in Care Bear land and I don’t give a flying shart.

I am who I am – Drazil on my shoulder and 20 lb. Sheniqua on my hips.
Bling on my hands, tattoos all around and super sexy glitter on my lips.

I’m a woman on a mission – driving my body out of its chubby ditch.
Now who wants Sheniqua when I’m done with the nasty bitch?

Someone has to take her and I don’t care who and I’ve warned you she’s a wench.
Oh crap I gotta go – Explosive Man just walked by and I have to prepare for the stench.

If you never hear from me again….please just take a pink Sharpie and write on my grave.
“Here lies Drazil….resident of Care Bear Land…farter of gumdrops…we should all be so brave.”



Monday, June 7, 2010

Drunk on love in fishnet stockings....

Sooooo the time has come for me to elaborate on my Victoria Secret fashion show night. I’m sure all of you have soap opera montages and romantic music and glistening skin in your heads – WELL SNAP OUT OF IT!! This is real life – I got fat rolls and issues and a time deadline before the kids get home. Now let’s get on with it.

Okay – so I successfully shipped the kiddos off to the sitter’s house (obviously) and the hubby went to go get pizza about 20 minutes away. That meant I had 20 good solid minutes to prepare myself. I kid you not – he called AFTER he got the pizza to tell me he was on his way home to be sure I was indeed ready. Can you spell anxious and excited? The man was almost too giddy to talk – I should not have let him drive.

And yes – all you food maniacs out there – you can bet your happy asses I told him explicity that BEFORE any fun would be taking place I would eating said pizza he went to go get. And you think you’re addicted to food? Um, I bet not like Draz is.

So he’s gone for those 20 minutes. I’m getting ready. Of course, I wait until the last second to get dressed. Oh and yes, I bought fishnet thigh highs and prayed to God no one at Walmart would see them in my cart cuz yah – fishnet thigh highs aren’t something a lot of us around here just go around wearing on a daily basis. Halloween maybe. Every day – not so much.

So yah – I’m sitting on the couch all dressed now and the last thing I have to do is hook the fishnets to the lingerie.

MY GOD IN HEAVEN.

Have any of you ever used those? I thought they snapped. They do not. I pulled on one little plastic tab so hard it broke. I nearly sat there and cried. $50 on a piece of lingerie and now I broke it. Apparently the Godforsaken things slide….ugh…..I was so pissed and hot from trying so hard I nearly said the hell with it.

So then I’m done and I decide to pace around the house – never mind that the curtains on my huge bay window are open. I don’t give a damn. If my neighbors dare look in my window on a night like tonight well then they deserve what they get and I’m sure I’ll never have to worry about them trying to look in again.

He gets home – and Jesus – you’d think I was 10. I stand at the top of the steps and peek my head around – like this man hasn’t seen me in every shape and form and yet I don’t come out. I hide for a moment. I wanted to scream and run but I channeled my inner Mama Pimp and came out and stood there….and died on the inside.

Let’s just say he nearly dropped the pizza. Me – on the other hand – I was all over that. No way was he dropping that. And yup – we sat and ate our pizza – at our little table with my ass sticking to the damn chair all sanitary like and my boobs spilling out onto the table. I’m pretty sure my husband could have been eating dog poop and he wouldn’t have noticed. I had to smack him about 50 times and peel him off of me but I ate dammit.

After that - well all I have to say is if you’ve never had dessert with fish net stockings on – you should try it. I know – dumb little piece of material but I’m telling you…there’s something fun and powerful about it….even if you can’t get them *&%#!@ hooky-thingys on them right. It’s obvious some man invented them.

And just so you don’t think this all went off without a hitch and it was a scene perfect for a movie….I will tell you this. My kids came home the next morning….with the sitters who had them…nicest people on Earth, non-drinkers, non-swearers, never talk bad about anyone…etc.

After the activities last night I went to bed and I had barely gotten out of bed that morning before they came in the living room. Which is also when I realized that fishnet stocking #1 was ON the couch and fishnet stocking #2 was on the floor and Victoria’s non-secret was on the chair.

Holy shit a brick. Why does this crap happen to me? I felt like there was a neon sign above me flashing and pointing saying, “Resident porn whore at your service…fishnet stockings extra!”

I non-chalantly kicked the stocking on the floor under the couch and very quickly covered one with a blanket and then I sat on the non-secret.

Can you imagine if I had drank like some of you suggested? I bet they would have found ME on the floor – naked – sleeping in the pink striped Victoria Secret’s bag covered in pizza and the cats would have been wearing the fishnet stockings. My husband would have been dangling from the ceiling fan by them effing hooky thingys I swear.

Yup – it’s a damn good thing I don’t drink. I barely pulled this night off and I was completely sober….unless you count being drunk on love.

Gag right? Oh give me a break – I had to throw something romantic in here to prove I’m not a complete slut.  It totally worked, right?