Tuesday, August 31, 2010

More than just "a little time off"....

I swear to God in about a week I’ll be back to farting gumdrops….but not today. There are no CareBears in my land today. Instead of bathing in rainbow Skittles, I’m bathing in rabbit turds. Ack. Maybe not. That’s going a little too far. (although I will say Explosive Man has shattered my clean toilet paradise about 50x already)


I am officially in an after-vacation-didn’t-want-to-go-in-the-first-place funk. I am exhausted. I’ve had a migraine every day since I got back. I want to curl up in a ball and sob until there are no more tears left and then I want to start over and be like so many of you – back from vacation and never skipping a beat. I suck. (no, that wasn’t an invitation for you to comment and say “Draz you don’t suck”) Seriously – no comments needed...it may sound like I’m begging but I’m not. This is just a funk. It’s not how I really feel – it’s brought on by migraine pain, lack of sleep and being out of my comfort zone…and in a few days I’ll feel like an idiot for even typing this out. But for me – this blog was always supposed to be my therapy – my record of who I am and who I was every day…not someone I pretended to be. To pretend I’m not angry that I’m weak and can’t handle a vacation and can’t come back like a normal person – would be a shitfaced lie.

I would like to say that within 5 hours I was caught up at work. Over 450 emails and deadlines and I’m caught up. It’s like I never left. Sometimes I even surprise myself sometimes with my efficiency. I also want to say I’m planning on going away again this weekend….that is unheard of. Normally after leaving for so long I stay in my house – every day for weeks – just clinging to home. Not this time. Life is too short for that. I also want to say I’ve lost all 5 lbs I gained on vacation in just 3 days so that’s good news.

See – it’s not all donkey balls and moldy dicks around here….there’s a gumdrop or two sitting around. Crusty and stale as hell but you can still find some.

This vacation made me think – which yes, I completely know is beyond stupid. I know that mmkkaayyy? I mean vacations aren’t supposed to make you think….but we’ve already decided I’m an oddball with some screws loose so for me – it makes me reflective. About what I missed while I was gone. About my job and how much I love it and missed it. About how I’m good at it. About how much I love my home. About what family means – and doesn’t mean. About what I’m capable of doing – beyond my fears. About how much I need to blog and about how when I don’t – I feel like I don’t belong. About how every single thing I have and need and love is right here – within arm’s reach and if I never have to leave again – I’m totally okay with that.

While I was gone, a cousin I am very close to got engaged. I missed it. He was in Iraq and Afghanistan and Haiti and has two young sons. When he returned from his tour – his then wife met him at the plane, put her wedding rings in his hand, handed him his sons and said goodbye. She had an affair with another guy on base – who has since been dishonorably discharged for that. Anywhoozle – terrible – but now he has found love again and is engaged. Imagine him doing that while I was gone! The nerve right?

Secondly, my brother lost his job. That sounds so normal, so cliché – so common in these uncertain times. Until it’s MY brother. 15 years on this job, upper management, countless awards…but the boss’s son wanted a job so they pushed my brother out. To say I’m scared for him doesn’t begin to cover it. To say I’m not worried is like saying I don’t love Milky Ways. I spend 50% of my time being angry at this brother for who he is and 50% of the time loving him because he’s my brother and friend. I was gone the day they let him go. I feel terrible. I’m arranging a family visit to surprise him this weekend but still….I missed it.

Yah, I know – ego much? Events go on – with or without me. Who am I to think the world stops for me? Life moves at its own pace – it doesn’t give a damn who you are or where you are or how dark the places are in your head. With or without you – it’s moving on. So my vacation lesson learned is more of the same that I try to live by every day. Be present in the moment, memorize details, make memories, leave on good terms, say what needs to be said, don’t carry regrets, don’t hold grudges, nurture your soul and claim your own spirit.

To many, vacations are ordinary – normal, something that occurs all the time. For me…it’ll always be more than that. Before I left, my mother called to say goodbye and at the end of the conversation she said, “I love you….very much.” I almost dropped the phone. I heard myself say the words back without remembering speaking them.

It’s the first time I’ve heard those words in years, maybe even decades. I’d consider going away again….if she’d say those words again. Without having taken this vacation, I’d have probably gone another decade without hearing those words or saying them back.

Five little words forever wrapped up in my vacation memories of 2010. Um yah, like I said….to me it’ll always be more than just “a little time off”.

Now I’m gonna go see if I can squeeze at least an M&M out of my grumpy ass today. I’m dying for some chocolate.

Monday, August 30, 2010

Sorry I'm not sorry....

My good friend Mrs. Fatass wrote a blog today called “sorry I’m not sorry”…and dared us all to write our own….so I’m taking that dare. I can’t write like she does though I wish I could but here’s my shot at it.


The screens in my windows are dirty and the furnace/air vents in my house have dust on them. Sometimes it’s days before I can find the time or energy to get down on my hands and knees and clean the floor. Sometimes I leave my day before underwear on the floor – right in front of the hamper they belong in. Dust bunnies in my office have become my new pets. I own 6 cans of Pledge – 5 3/4 have never been used. My ceiling fan blades have dust on them too…they probably always will. Sometimes I get disappointed in myself about all of this and feel ashamed. Other days I resort to the “life is short, I refuse to spend it cleaning” attitude.

Sorry I’m not sorry.

I, like Mrs. Fatass, am completely fine with time away from my kids. I crave it, I need it, I long for it like a drug addict longs for more cocaine. I need me time and more importantly, me and Rambo time. I need quiet. I need hours at a time without the word Mom, Mommy or Mama in them. Sometimes I wonder what I did before I had kids. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t responsible for two human beings – knowing at every turn I could be scarring them for life. Sometimes I leave my kids in the bath unattended for a few minutes cuz one of them is 9 and I trust them. Sometimes the thought of cooking one more supper FOR someone other than myself makes me lose my appetite. I don’t read my kids bedtime stories. I will never be mother of the year. When my own mother tells me she couldn’t stand to be away from her own kids for mere seconds….I don’t understand that. I can never be a stay at home mom….I would eat my young within days. I’m also prone to giving my kids fruit roll ups instead of cutting up an apple because I’m annoyed they won’t eat the peeling. I’m no role model folks.

Sorry I’m not sorry.

I went on vacation – it was good. But if I’m really honest with myself I can say I’d rather have been at home. It’s hard to explain but leaving home, being “social”, pretending I was having the best time of my life, being in strange hotels, eating food I don’t like, being in a car for 36 hours, knowing work was piling up….was really, really hard for me. Yes, I did it and yes, I am proud….but it’s not for me. When I tell someone that and they tell me I’m lame or stupid or that I’m not fun – I want to punch them. I *AM* fun – but I’m fun in MY territory, MY home, MY surroundings. I don’t need to go anywhere to be me. I don’t even want to go anywhere. If that makes me someone you don’t like – great – I’m sorry I’m not sorry about that. Go travel the world – I don’t tell you you’re stupid for doing that, do I? I have social anxiety that most will never understand. It’s unexplainable. I can force myself to get out of my box BUT it doesn’t mean it’s easy or that I want to.

Sorry I’m not sorry.

I am a weight loss snob. I have met a few people from where we just visited – but each time I met them I was pregnant. No one had ever seen me not pregnant. Hence, no one saw me thin either. No one ever knew that prior to pregnancies I was heavy without a baby for an excuse. So consequently, not a damn person said anything to me about how I looked – 70 lbs lighter – blood, sweat and tears later. My sis-in-law lost 30 pounds doing Jenny Craig. EVERYONE said something cuz they see her every year. I wanted to say “HEY I LOST DOUBLE THAT!!” I wanted to scream “Do you know how many miles I ran and how many hours I spent away from my family working out?” But I did not. I let her have her moment. All the while wanting to scream and pull out my fat pictures and prove to them they should be proud of me too.

Sorry I’m not sorry.

Every time I see my husband’s mother and father I want to deck them. Like real life – punch them in the face. My entire body screams “please, never ever let my husband end up like you in any way”. They are good people….but I do not understand them.

Sorry I’m not sorry.

Just like Mrs. Fatass….I’m pretty sure I’m going to eat chocolate the rest of my life. Some days, maybe even weeks I won’t have any. Other days I’ll probably eat more than I should. I will never be a food snob. I won’t parade around saying, “I will never eat processed food or ever eat anything that nature didn’t create and I’d rather die than consume aspartame.” Sometimes though I know I shouldn’t I will eat my favorite pizza simply because it carries memories and it tastes like heaven and I have that choice, not for any other emotional reason. I will try every day to be healthy and will continue to aspire to my goal but when it comes down to it – some days the extra 10 pounds I carry just don’t mean shit to me.

Sorry I’m not sorry.

And finally, dammit….I am who I am. I’m so sick of apologizing for being me and trying to be something more, something better or someone else – who loves more, does more or weighs less. Every single day I do the best that I can. According to many, I work too much and have too many jobs. I care too much and love too much, always giving more to others than I give to myself. I take what you say to heart and if you say the wrong thing it stays with me and cuts me to the core and I spend my life trying to change your mind. I worry – incessantly – about things that will never occur. I am scared a lot – about life, the future, my children’s futures, money and letting my dreams go. I can find dark places in my mind that I rarely go to – for fear of never coming out of them. I choose to keep my depression a secret from the people around me – not because I’m ashamed – but because I don’t have the words to make anyone understand and I want understanding – not pity. I spend hours picking out something to wear and getting ready because people will be looking at me only to get there and realize no one gives a damn what I look like and I get mad that I cared that much. I read a lot. I write a lot. I have nightmares a lot. I only really love a few people in my life – Rambo, Jenny, my kids, family – because loving more than that is too much of a risk that I’m not willing to take….not yet anyway.

I am me, Drazil and Sheniqua. I always will be.

Sorry I’m not sorry.

Now I dare you to write your own “sorry I’m not sorry” post…..what are you not sorry for?

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Have you "Chicas" been going?

Huh?  Huh?  Well have you?

I haven't.  I knew that on vacation I wouldn't be working out but vacation is over so watch out all you "Go-Chica-Go challengers.  We have well over 50 women entered in our challenge and one week is already over.  I've got some catching up to do don't I?

I plan to get back on the exercise wagon I lurched off of back in July.  It is time my friends. 

So tell me - how did you first week go?  How many miles did you log?  How many workouts did you log?

Come on - motivate me!!!  Let me see some big numbers!!!

Saturday, August 28, 2010

Things I learned on vacation....

I only have a minute but I wanted to take a moment to get down on paper some things I learned on my first real family vacation ever. 

1.  Mother-in-laws are still annoying - no matter what city or state you are in with them.
2.  One incident of puking children in 104 degree heat on a backwoods gravel road will never allow you to leave home without Dramamine again.
3. It only takes one day before you can be around people in the South and not start saying y'all.
4.  I miss dessert.  Hotel rooms with children two feet away does not lend itself to dessert.  Creativity reaches an all time high.
5.  There is nothing - and I mean nothing - like sleeping in your own bed under your own roof.
6.  Not talking to my BFF Jenny in 7 days nearly killed me.
7.  It is not really hot here.  Nope - 90 is nothing here so I shall never complain again.  104 every day - sweat down the crack of my ass every day all day - such an oh so fresh feeling - well, that is HOT.
8.  Mosquitoes suck in the backwoods of Louisiana...as do fire ants.  We went through an entire can of bug spray in 5 days.  Wow.
9.  I still do not eat creole, jumbalaya, dirty rice, boudan or gumbo.  You can't make me. 
10.  I gained 5 lbs.  You'd think I'd be sad.  Um, no.  If any of you had seen the amount of food I ate - you'd be doing the happy dance at only 5 lbs too.
11.  Sonic...mmmkkkaayyy.....wow.
12.  I could be a truck driver.  We did 19 hours yesterday with two little girls.  I thought I might poke my own eyes out with forks at times - but I survived.
13.  I got a whole new blog layout and never lifted a finger to do it cuz my BFF loves me - and man did I miss you all!
14.  I did things so far out of my comfort zone I know I'll never be the same.  I am proud of me.
15.  We made memories that will last a lifetime....and that's priceless

Monday, August 23, 2010

I am alive...

Yup - I am sick and twisted....out here in the bayous and I have to blog.

I MISS YOU ALL!

I have not been eaten by alligators - yet.
I have not killed Rambo's mother - yet.
I have not eaten creole or gumbo - and I won't ever be doing that.
I have picked up a Southern accent.
I have found a Sonic and want to marry it.
I have found a Walmart and it makes me feel like home.
I have figured out 100 degree weather is way different than 80 degree weather.
I have sweat enough to fill a bucket.
It is not pretty.

I have to go...just wanted to check in so you can all stop sobbing in a corner somewhere worrying about me and missing me.  (Yup - my ego is still intact)

Oh and 18 hours in the car - 10 miles until we were at our hotel - and both kids puked.  Wowser - fun times.  I nearly died right there on the side of the dirt road in 100 degree heat.  Jesus Frick. 

Buh-bye my friends.

Friday, August 20, 2010

Alright CHICAs – the challenge begins TODAY!

Are you ready? Are you pumped up? Got your sneakers? Got your hot sports bras and your 80s spandex shorts on? It’s okay to admit you still own them…Lord knows I do.

I even have the neon pink hair scrunchie and leg warmers to match.

Okay now that you are ready – I’ll be your cheerleader because I for one, am insanely proud of you. (and because I’m dying to find a reason to put on my old cheerleading outfit)

Now if we all lived in the same place (seriously how fun would that be?) – I’d make us all take a ceremonial lap around the cul de sac or something to kick off this challenge!

Remember – there are two categories and you can enter one or both. One is simply the number of separate workouts lasting a minimum of 20 minutes (a 60 minute workout counts as one workout) and the other is the number of miles you go in 35 days. If you work out 30 minutes in the morning and 30 in the afternoon, then because of the time separation in the middle – that counts as two workouts.

Keep track on your own – make yourself a cool chart and pretend you’re in 2nd grade again (cuz yah, who wouldn’t want to be in 2nd grade again when the only thing on my to do list was sniff glue and stare at Johnny Larson?)…..

Intermittently I will post everyone’s progress just to motivate you competitive spirits out there!

Okay – now go – quit reading and lolly-gagging around – GO – workout, box, run, jog, walk, squat, lift, Zumba, whatevah – just do it! (thank you Nike)

And girlies – right now – when this posts I could quite possibly be in Louisiana…..knocked out from Valium OR high on life from being in a car for 20 hours with two little girls. Are you saying a prayer right now that I made it? I miss you all…..sooo much…..you can bet your asses I’m taking a notebook with me to jot down things I have to remember to tell y’all.

That was me – practicing my southern accent. It was good – no? Let me try again….

I love ya’ll.

God…sometimes I’m so lame even I want to stop reading my blog.

Now GO-CHICA-GO exercise your skinny asses off! I want full progress reports when I return!

And Joey – thanks for the challenge idea. You rock!

Oh and by the way - we are up to 45 participants in this challenge!!!!

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Jealousy and loneliness…...and tomorrow.

Jealousy used to consume me. Everyone around me had it better, was better and looked better. The person I was comparing myself to could have no front teeth and drive an Amish buggy and I’d still find a way to be jealous of them. I was materialistic.

I have a mother who grew up wealthy. Let me rephrase that – I have a mother whose parents wanted the town to believe they were wealthy – so she went to private schools and had fancy clothes and new cars – but in truth – there was no money.

I have a father who grew up poor. Let me rephrase that too. My father worked his ass off and didn’t have much of anything – though in truth, his parents were millionaires who saved every penny they made. Two opposite ends of the spectrum wouldn’t you say?

Anyway – I took on both qualities. When I got married and we had money coming out of our ears (no kids) I bought things – lots and lots of things with lots and lots of diamonds and brand names. I thought it would fulfill me and make my mother proud and make up for the things my dad would never buy me because he learned to be a penny pincher and hated debt. Then I figured out neither of them gave a damn about my money – how much I had or didn’t have. I still couldn’t make them notice me. With or without brand name clothes and diamonds – I was still invisible.

So then I grew up. I stopped filling voids with things…though I have a closet that says otherwise. I stopped being jealous…knowing I had at home what many would die for….Rambo who loved me. Every day I strive to be happy FOR people – truly happy. That’s a tough thing to do but it feels good to do it.

Today it is hard though. Some days it’s just harder than others. And some days you just gotta have a “woe is me – pity party day”….and today is my day for that.

There is nothing wrong. Nothing I don’t have. Nothing I need.

But I am jealous. I work with millionaires – and as you can guess, I am not one. I work with people who own 5 Harleys and 8 cars and mansions and heated indoor enclosed pools and Rolexes and diamonds hand picked for them and Aston Martins flown in on private jets from England for them. Not one of them is arrogant. Not one of them makes me feel less than. They all work for it. Not one of them shoves it in your face….but being happy for them is hard some days. How their lives make me feel is MY problem – not theirs.

And I feel lonely. I have people who love me – Rambo, my girls, Jenny, and my family…..I am not alone. But I feel alone today. Like I don’t matter. Like I don’t exist. Like I am not enough. Like I could leave this world and no one would notice. I know it’s not true – this is not a pathetic reach out for you all to tell me I’m wrong….because I already know that. I just can’t find my place…my calling….my purpose.

I just don’t want to be me today. I want to be someone else entirely. I want to change every single thing about me. I want to be enough.

And I will be….tomorrow.

Feeling this way makes me angry at who I am.  It makes me appear selfish, weak, pathetic and just not who I want to be.  It makes me feel guilty.  I want to scream at myself, "You ungrateful woman - how dare you feel this way with the life you have? Do you know how lucky you are?"

But years ago on a deathbed of depression I realized I can't fake happiness and I can't pretend what I feel doesn't exist and I can't not feel what I feel.  It is there.  I feel it. 

For today it is who I am whether I like it or not.  Not liking it is key though because it makes me a better me.........for tomorrow....when I take my head out of the sand and keep on living this blessed life I am grateful for.

To live in this kind of feeling would be shameful really....and I've felt enough shame over the years to last a lifetime.  I'm so over shame and guilt....so today I'm gonna feel what I feel....and try not to berate myself all day because of it.

I will be stronger...tomorrow.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

The countdown begins!!!!

What a monumental weekend I had this past weekend and what a monumental week I have ahead of me. The excitement is beginning – I’m going on vacation for the first time ever with my whole family! Wow! You all have to be proud of me – I’m officially more excited than scared! Can you believe it?


This last weekend Rambo went to an all day heavy metal concert – complete with naked women, drugs and drinking and mosh pits. Thank goodness he only took part in the mosh pit part. Normally though all day long and before I would worry. Incessantly. I’d be afraid of traffic, him getting hurt in the pits, him getting sunburned or dehydrated or that he wouldn’t come home. Something. It would envelope my whole day.

This time though? Not this girl. I kissed him and made sure to give him a lecture about the naked women and out the door he went. I spent the day school shopping and cleaning, gave myself a pedicure and get this??? I was invited to a friend’s house just to hang out and of course – I said no – and wasn’t going to go until the last minute I decided to go. Rambo wasn’t due home until after 2am so why not right? I went – I laughed – and I beat Rambo home! He got home and was calling everyone wondering where I was! I was out carousing! Who would have guessed?? You can’t call me a hermit anymore. Cuz remember, my new nickname is Turkey.

My 9 year old is officially moved upstairs and Rambo officially has a man cave downstairs with his own man bathroom to boot. Very little evidence of the re-flood exists – which is a relief to me. Everyone is a happy camper – well, except for those of us who now have to shut the door to get dessert. Seriously, Watermelon (9 yr old) is on Cloud 9. You cannot get her out of her room. I decorated it in polka dots in all the basic colors. It is super cute. Maybe I shall take pics.

My gigantic to do before vacation list is dwindling my friends…only a few things to cross out. I start packing tonight. Which brings me to a question? How the hell do I pack for a week? This girl is an over-packer when it comes to just 2 days – ask Jenny – she’s seen it. And two little girls? It’d be simpler if I could walk around in a bikini the whole 8 days but I’m pretty sure people want to try to eat food at some point instead of being in constant vomit mode…..so fine…I’ll put clothes on. Whiners.

DVD players are packed. MP3 players are packed. The GPS is packed. How the hell did anyone travel before technology?

Oh yes, and Mama has her Valium, Xanax and my cocaine. Oh Jesus you guys – I’m kidding. Remember me? Never even been drunk girl. One of any of those pills and I’d be in a coma for the whole 8 days. Besides I’ve got my Rambo – and Watermelon and Banana – and a new belly button piercing and my new ghost tattoo so I’m all good! I owe you guys so many pictures huh?

If I get enough time I might go back through my archives and post some of my favorite old blogs to appear when I’m gone just so you all don’t go into convulsions from missing me too much. (Ego much Draz?) When I get back I will need summaries of everyone’s weeks so I don’t miss anything…..panic attack city over that I tell you.

I have pre-scheduled BOOBs features to go out each day I’m gone so if you need a Draz fix…hop over to the BOOBs blog.

And don't forget our Go-Chica-Go challenge begins this Friday!  We have 38 entries so far!! 

How will I survive without you all???

Monday, August 16, 2010

More on the Go-Chica-Go challenge!

In my haste to talk about “touchy subjects” I forgot to say this:


We have nearly 30 people entered in our “Go-Chica-Go Challenge” already and it doesn’t officially start until Friday, the 20th.

Let me answer a few questions I got.

I said one of the rules was it had to be 20 minutes minimum to count as a workout. Someone asked if they worked out 40 minutes if that counted as two. My answer is no unless you worked out 20 minutes in the morning and a separate 20 minutes at night or something. One continuous workout – even if it’s two hours – only counts as one workout. Does that make sense?

Also – um yes – totally on the honor system so just keep a running tally yourself of miles or workouts or both. I will be asking for them throughout the challenge.

You can enter for tracking miles or workouts or both….if you mainly do Zumba or boxing or something, the miles challenge would be hard to apply…so you’d just tally your number of workouts.

And remember - anyone can join.  Man or woman, banded, not banded, going to Chicago with the BOOBS or not!  It's open to anyone wanting to increase their exercise!

Considering I’ve sucked ginormous donkey balls at working out the last two months I’m excited for this challenge. I doubt I’ll get to do it specifically during my vacay but after that – watch out ladies!

My stats for the year are:

328.4 miles
112 days
40,259.2 calories
93.93 hours

I’d really love to end the year at 500 miles, 175 days, 50,000 calories and 120 hours. Think I can do it?

Anyone setting goals for the challenge? How many miles will you go? How many days will you complete?

GO CHICA GO!

It's a touchy subject.......regarding cats...and turkeys.

Like for real….touchy. And it’s Mrs. Fatass's fault because of  this post. My lovely friend inspires me to write these ever meaningful blogs…..well, actually what I mean is she writes about something and then I can’t stop thinking about it and it scares the sh*t out of me…so I end up writing about it. Gotta love her.

Okay so Mrs. Fatass recently was caught in the act by her son. Now by the in the act I do mean in. the. act. Like dessert as I like to call it. Like the ultimate embarrassment (though my parents never seemed to try to hide it). And as any good parent would do – she freaked out – and then blogged about it….and left us all with the wonderful public service announcement – REMEMBER TO SHUT THE DAMN DOOR. Ha!

Seriously though – it is scary. I mean I have MANY memories of my parents, the nymphos and let me tell you – it scared the living hell out of me but I never said a word. My brother didn’t either. My sister actually went in there and said something…and has regretted it ever since. They just didn’t give a crap about shutting the door….or um, being discreet or quiet. Wowser. Excuse me while I go throw up – I’ll be back.

Okay enough of that…I’m getting hives. Anywhoozle…so this has not yet happened to me BUT now Mrs. Fatass has me scared it will. Both my daughters are now upstairs – only feet away from my room…one within eye’s view if she stood just right in her room. She is 9….which means she ain’t stupid and things could get tricky. And because I am the scarred daughter of my parents – I indeed give a crap about how this all goes down.

Here’s the thing though – at 4 my youngest daughter will believe anything I say. Anything. So when I tell her mama has to shut her door so she can talk with the Care Bears about what to have for supper before we go ride unicorns…she’ll say “okay” and hop off to play in the magical world that 4 year olds exist in. *God I want to live there.*

The 9 year old is 9 – going on 30…and like I said - she ain’t stupid. Life would be easier if she was. She can’t help it her mother is a genius and she inherited my traits. *Gag right?*

We shut the door for the first time last night knowing full well the daughter is still awake. No biggie. This is what parents have done through the centuries (except for mine dammit). Which makes me wonder – back in the day when people lived in caves or huts – how the hell did that work? There weren’t any doors…can you imagine?? Gives me the heebiejeebies just thinking about it. I imagine it went like this:

“Tonto – go stick bones in your ears and cover your eyes with that tiger skin and pray your mama is quick tonight.”

“No thanks Dad – I’d rather hunt down a sabertooth in my bare feet without a spear…in the dark…with one hand tied behind my back.”

See my friends – this is why they were such good hunters. They were just trying to get out of the damn cave….and there’s not much else to do after sunset outside….

Okay – back to my house….now this is the part where I wanted to smack my friend Mrs. Fatass for blogging so eloquently….cuz dessert was ggoooddd but about every 5 minutes I found myself freaking out in my mind…..like this….

Oh my good God in heaven – what if she walks in right now without knocking? What would I say? “Mommy is practicing for the rodeo and Daddy was kind enough to pretend to be the horse.”

What if she knocks right now? Do I say “just a minute while I put the trapeze away honey – I’ll be right there” or do I dive under the covers and do my loudest fake snore ever? When she wakes me in the morning and asks why I didn’t answer the door and what were those noises – I will play the “there are quite a few stray cats outside and I think they were fighting” card.

Yup – just sunk to a new low – I compared our dessert-making to stray cats. Romantic huh?

If she bursts right in right now – how do I get untangled fast enough to not burn her eyes and take her back to bed? How will she not be terrified? Cuz let’s face it – to a kid – it sounds like their parents are being hurt….at least that’s what I thought.

So yah – all of this – intermittently during dessert….thank you Mrs. Fatass. Oh how I love you so….enough to put you in my bedroom with me. LOL

But alas all went well…..believe me….all tragedies were avoided and rodeo training was a success.

You’d think I was in the clear. Um, no. In our house and many I think – there’s a ritual after dessert. Get up, go pee, get a drink, call your friends to brag, come back to reality. This means opening the door – AFTER daughter thinks we went to bed an hour ago….and walking by her room.

The girl has got to be confused. Goodnight – we’re off to bed. Door shuts. Time passes. Door opens. Out walk naked parents. Back to bed they go. What the holy hell is going on?

And WHY ISN’T SHE SLEEPING????

Cuz ferrel cats were making too much noise outside perhaps? Jesus.

I suspect soon enough I may not have to explain the during….but the after. Why do we close the door on some nights and then come out and go pee and get a drink, etc? Oy – you can bet your sweet ass I’m not telling her the truth. I’m going to tell her that we are discussing the day she turns 16 and wants a car and the noises are her Daddy sobbing at the thought and it’s so mentally exhausting that when the conversation is over we need to pee and drink and call our therapist. Naked.

Can I also just say that by 6am this morning I learned a new term? It is a term I didn’t ask to learn….but learn I did. I was getting ready – all quiet and polite-like to as not to awaken Rambo and as if he’d been awake for hours I hear this.

Baby, I can officially call you a turkey now.

WHAT? You’re awake. What is going on? What in the cripes are you talking about turkeys so early for? It’s dark out. I’m so confused.

That’s what they call people who get three strikes in a row in bowling. Turkeys. *as he smirks*

Um wow – I’m slightly embarrassed and it’s quite apparent he should be called a damn peacock. Rambo is pretty proud of himself this morning. If you have no idea what I’m talking about – you’re actually better off. It’s just so lame I felt the need to blog about it. Rambo can’t fit his ginormous head through any doorways today….cuz his wife is a full-blown turkey.

Such a romantic pet name huh?

It’s pretty obvious Rambo had no door during or after fears. He’s all good. Stray cats have never bothered him when the mojo is flowing.

You may commence to vomit now. You’re welcome. Like I said – blame Mrs. Fatass.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Clearly I miss you already.....oh and a challenge!

I can't stop posting or commenting or loving or crying at sad posts....*sigh*....the question remains:  Can Drazil survive 8 days without my blog and blog friends?  At this point I don't know.  I do NOT have a laptop to take with me....but I may have time to hop on for a quick post to tell you I'm alive.  I will be calling Jenny so she can let you know if I'm alive too.

NOW ON TO A CHALLENGE!

Joey mentioned that we should do a challenge before the BOOBS convention...and I agree.  Joey is uber busy right now so I'll host it if you guys want to participate!  (Hope that's okay Joey!)  And no - you do not have to be going to BOOBS to participate.  I talked to Jenny about it this morning and in order for the most people to be involved, we decided it's not going to be another weight loss challenge....sort of.

Some are at goal, some have very few to lose, some have much to lose so sometimes it can come off in bigger amounts than some with only a little left to lose and most of our challenges are about weight.

This challenge is about working out and exercise.  I know there are many of you that can completely lose weight without exercising and that's good but exercise isn't all about weight loss.  It's about a stress reliever, endorphins being released and general heart, BP, etc health.  Soooo with that being said....

I'm going to keep it simple. 

It's going to be the most workouts (must be at least 20 minutes/heart rate must be up and it must be a calculated workout).  I realize cleaning and raking and such is exercise but I'd like that to just be daily life.  I'd like a workout to count for this challenge if it's something you plan and go do if you know what I mean.

Keep a log - and the person with the most workouts wins a prize!

The other part will be this.  The most miles walked/ran.  I know some of you do Zumba or boxing or something that doesn't constitute miles so you'll have to enter the number of workout part only.  Those of you who walk or run, keep track of that workout and keep track of the amount of miles you go.

Keep a log - and the person with the most miles wins a prize!

In order to give everyone the chance to log in and check blogs and such I'd like this to start on Friday, August the 20th and end on Friday, September the 24th!  That's 5 exact weeks - 35 short days!

Let me know if you want to sign up and I'll keep a list of competitors.  I may ask for updates and post them randomly so all of you with competitive spirits can be motivated along the way so keep your logs current!

Be sure to let your followers know about the challenge since I'm sure all of your followers don't follow me so they won't know about it unless you tell them.

Here's the challenge picture...please post on your blog.  And yes - I'm fully aware had Joey made up this picture it'd be smoking awesome and we'd all be proud to put it on our blogs.  You'll just have to deal with this and suck it up...it's the best I got.  You're lucky I didn't just put up a picture of a Care Bear and call it good.


NOW WHO'S IN????????????

Friday, August 13, 2010

The journey is hard....

Some days the journey is just harder than others...let me explain.

80% of the people I follow have lap bands and as many of you know, I don't have one.  As many of you also know....there are days when I wish I did.  I have no problem admitting that.  It's hard to watch and hear about people who can eat 1/2 cup of food and be stuffed.  I can admit I am jealous.  My best friend who has a lap band worries about me following/loving/befriending so many lapbanders because she knows it's hard not to compare, not to want the control a band helps many with, and not to see big weight losses each week continuously like many banders see.  I mean let's be honest.....I can physically eat whole pizzas, candy bars by the handful...and then more pizza....if I choose.  Every time I do it - it's my choice....and then it's my regret, my backslide, my imminent damning self talk.  To pretend that some days I wish I didn't have that choice would be ridiculous. 

Today I'm not happy with my choices...and I really do wish I had something in me physically that would take my choice away.  I haven't cheated...but I ate too many approved Atkins things I am sure.  Too many nuts.  Too much cheese.  Too much diet soda. 

Just.
Too.
Much.

Thank God for Rambo - he saw me literally with my hand in the cookie bag and said, "Close that."  When I said, "You wanna just get a pizza?"....he said, "Nope....I don't."  God bless him for having self control I lack.

I often wonder how I've lost 70 pounds (almost) and kept it off.  Honestly it boggles my mind on days like this when I suck at this journey.  I am tired of it.  I want a day off.  I want to quit.  And then I remember bikinis and how I feel at this weight and how proud I am of me and my blood pressure and cholesterol...and how I look in chubby pictures....and I keep going.

I think back to the days when I first started and I couldn't exercise....and then I remember how later on I ran 5-6 miles a day every day after working 9 hours rain or shine.  I ran an hour a day no matter what and people knew me at the gym as the runner.  I had never run in my life and next year I'm doing a 1/2 marathon. 

I am different now - but the journey is not easier.

I have not been heavy my whole life - only after pregnancy and gestational diabetes kicked my ass....so for me....I don't believe I have emotional reasons for getting heavy.  I can't tie my eating to loneliness or emptiness or filling a void or any reason except I get bored and I love food and it's there.  Sounds so simple but for me, it's true.  To fight the fact that it tastes good seems unnatural...but fight it I must.  I gain weight easily and it comes off hard.  I refuse to be the fat one in the family tree ever again and I refuse to have wasted $5k on a tummy tuck for nothing.  I just refuse.

I'll keep fighting the fight - for the rest of my life.  I may have a bad day just like I have had in the past 4 years but I will not stop.  I will never say I'm done and gain it back.  I have never let a slip become a full-fledged slide.  I will keep running.  I will treat my body like the temple it is.  And I will keep writing about it. 

The journey is indeed hard...as hard as the first day was sometimes.....but giving up is not an option. 

It's just not who I am anymore...and not who I ever want to be again.

So to my lapbanders who I love....don't hate me because I'm jealous of you....love me because I make the choice not to give up...and together - we'll all get to our goal...

....and live happily ever after in Care Bear Land.

BYOC - Bring Your Own Craziness....

BYOC - five little questions we answer on our blogs to get to know each other better and to give our fried blog brains a break....welcome and enjoy!

P.S. I'm posting this early just for my little tulip Cindylew!

Okay I asked Rambo what are some random questions he'd ask someone to get to know them better....this is what he gave me.  1.  Do you come here often?  2.  Is that a sausage in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

Um yah - I stopped him at #2.  We are NOT using those.  Jesus - can you say pervert?

Here are mine - though I can't guarantee they are much better....or less perverted for that matter.

1.  Do you remember your last dream?

* Eek - yes.  Flooding - lots of tears, more flooding - yuck.  I don't remember the details I just remember waking up wondering when I'll stop dreaming about something that is over and done...and something I choose not to remember on purpose....except in my subconscious apparently.

2.  Which is your favorite body part of the human body and why?

*  Oh this is kinda hard actually...no not the body part...the question.  I couldn't resist....

I'd have to say the hands.  Rambo's and my girls and even mine.  Rambo holds my hand when he drives, when we get groceries, when he walks by me he grabs me with his hands, he holds me with his hands, he wears his wedding ring on his hand, he emails me all day long with his hands and he writes me love letters with his hands.

And nothing is as precious as a little tiny soft hand in mine...when my daughters are walking with me or sitting with me or perhaps slapping my boob before I kiss the 4 yr old goodnight.  Those hands draw me Mother's Day cards and pictures and they hug me tight every day.

Yah, hands are pretty good multi-tasking body parts if you ask me.  And yes - they allow me to shove Milky Ways in my mouth cuz it's just barbaric to use my toes all the time.  People look at me funny.  I say hands cuz I like mine too - it's a body part of mine I have no issues with.  I have rings on nearly every finger - that symbolize moments of great joy and emotion...and they hold bracelets too - with the same feelings....

3.  Tell me about your first kiss...

* Man I have no idea why I came up with this.  Ugh...I was in 6th grade, Catholic school and had a steady boyfriend and he was HUGE.  Huge as in tall, muscular, broad, freaking linebacker, you don't mess with that boy kind of huge...and I was teeny tiny back then and I was massively afraid of that first kiss that I knew was coming.  He used to tell me my whole ass fit in his one hand.  Oh the days.  But yah - he had a broken leg so he kissed me and no lie - I ran - and he couldn't catch me cuz of the crutches and all.  And then I cried like a baby...man I was an idiot.  I got over it real quick....trust me.  It wasn't great though - he was not a good kisser.  I see him all the time in my life now....gotta love small town USA.  He's a great guy...truly a kind soul and he's still a damn linebacker.

4.  How big is your bed?

* My God - can you guys tell I'm writing this at night before Rambo is dying for dessert?  Every question has an innuendo....my apologies.

Anywhoozle...we have a California king - biggest size there is...and we LOVE it.  If it's storming out and my two little girls jump in with us - we can all fit and be comfy....hubby and I can sleep and never touch each other if we wanted to...it's HUGE.  The downside was that it's too big - when you're in it alone....when Rambo worked third shift I piled up pillows against me every night so it would feel like he was next to me.  And oh yah - you gotta have a big enough bedroom to put it in!

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

* My heart is breaking for so many going through tough times right now...especially Joey and Cindylew had a rough fill appt too.  I'm excited and waiting impatiently about Grace's job...hurry up already!  Carmen had great blogs this week and Dinnerland saw a new low (yay!).  DB commented on some of my blogs and it's been a while since I've heard from her so that was nice.  Couple people being banded this week so I'm keeping them in my prayers.  And of course - Steph and the sink pooper are ever present in my mind (great huh?).  And I'm having fun doing the BOOBS features and seeing the comments people take the time to leave so that everyone knows they are loved. 

It's been a weird week for me...thoughtful, stressful and busy - vacation is next week and I'm not worried about being there....I'm worried about before and after at work and in planning and taking care of one full time and two PT jobs before I go.  I've got lists coming out of my ass...and poor Jenny has had to hear all about them.  This vacating stuff is new to me and scary as hell when you are a homebody anti-social recluse like me.  But I shall go - and I shall flaunt my bikini and I shall miss you all.  In my head you're all coming with me though...you know that right?

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Bullets instead of wishes today...

It is Wednesday but I don’t feel like doing I Wish Wednesday this week…it feels more like a bullet day.


• I am officially down to my lowest weight again after the one day I cheated on Saturday. Same for Rambo. After spending 8 hours in 100 degree heat in full riot gear I’m surprised he didn’t drop 10 lbs in sweat alone but I guess not. I did comment that 2 weeks ago his day would have been even harder with an extra 10 lbs on him…and he agreed.

• I made pizza last night – completely Atkins friendly. Wanna know what the crust was made of? Cauliflower. I do not like cauliflower. Well, unless you grate it up and make it into pizza crust. Throw the word pizza in anything and I’ll eat it. I haven’t had pizza in a few weeks and that’s a record for this girl. I was in heaven last night and on plan. Pretty amazing to me.

• Rambo’s sweaty day at the prison made me feel lazy so I walked ½ mile and ran another mile when I got home. Took me 20 minutes and I burned 260 calories. Not bad for 20 minutes. As you all know I haven’t exercised since my foot tattoo in early July so I was pretty afraid I’d pass out after five minutes from lack of stamina but I made it. I completely used the “but it doesn’t matter” mantra. I found myself with about 50 excuses not to run like:

I worked hard all day….but it doesn’t matter
I don’t have a marathon until next year…but it doesn’t matter
Lots of people on Atkins don’t exercise….but it doesn’t matter
I might cough up a lung…but it doesn’t matter
My legs feel like jello…but it doesn’t matter
It’s 100 degrees out and people are looking at me like I’m a fool for running…but it doesn’t matter
My boobs are hanging out of this tank top….but it doesn’t matter

You get the picture right? After I got that out of my system I said the hell with it and said to myself, “Hey lung, tired feet, jello legs and 100 degree heat…..nice to see you…come run with me.” It worked!

* My house was insanely quiet last night without my girls. I told Rambo we should close all the curtains and run around naked and blare the heavy metal. Yah, we sat on the couch and watched Hangover instead. Aren’t we exciting?

* My little head is spinning about things on my to do list before vacation and I’m starting to stress a teensy bit. Okay whatever – I lie. I’m in a freaking panic mmkkaayy? I’ve got lists about lists and I have no idea how to get them all done. I’m trying to apply the “but it doesn’t matter” mantra in this aspect of my life too. Like I don’t think I there’s enough Valium on this Earth to help me deal with my in-laws for a week….but it doesn’t matter.

Like I said – in my most panicked moments I’m just focusing on the clean toilet we’ll have for a week. Did I mention that’ll be paradise?

* Oh and I am indeed getting my ghost tattoo Friday….but I cannot for the life of me decide where to put it! Any suggestions? It’ll just be a tiny outline in black of a flowy ghost with one red heart….

* And if you have air conditioning like I do all day….be grateful. Today Rambo is inside the prison – which I think is worse than outside. No air and he says when you walk on some units the heat almost knocks you down….add to that the smell of many, many sweaty men who aren’t allowed to take showers….wowsers. He comes home just soaked.  Ackarooni huh?

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

I feel dirty....so you have to join me......

Apparently it’s been way to long since I discussed something I despise…blame Stephanie. Seriously – did you all read her post about how someone pooped in the sink where she works? Oh yah – clean up the soda you just spit out onto your computer and read it again. You did not mis-read. I said someone pooped in the sink.


Now I have of course told Stephanie she’s never allowed to post something like that again (she hid it at the bottom of her post so I was happily reading along and then BAM – shock!) without properly warning those of us who nearly vomit at the sight of the P word.

For some stupid reason I keep thinking about it though. I guess I’m reminded every time I go pee and see shit everywhere and pubes hanging AGAIN. I find myself grateful about my bathroom for the first time ever…because all the poop and pubes are IN the toilet…not the sink.

Beyond the grossness of it all – I just can’t stop wondering – how the hell does one accomplish this? If you told me today – at my svelte (I kid) 160 lbs to go poop in our sink – I wouldn’t be able to. I don’t think I can bend that way. Now how about when I used to weigh 226…um I woulda broke the sink. I’m not kidding. There are only a few bolts that hold that thing into the wall you know?

And what about speed? I mean I’m assuming a man did this….sue me…it’s just not something I want to imagine a girl doing. But anywhoozle – no man I know can do this in less than say 30 minutes…and I’m assuming in this case you’d wanna hurry or be caught with your pants down – literally. Is doing this fast even possible for a member of the male species? I guess so.

So let’s say this student was a skinny kid and very limber. Fine. How did he get up there? There aren’t step stools or chairs in our bathroom. But let’s say he climbed like the creepy monkey he is and he’s up there.

At this point – is he naked? Did he pre-plan and take his pants off before climbing – so while he’s climbing his junk is swinging to and fro? If not, how in the hell do you take your pants off while you’re ON the sink? And how do you squat on a sink? How big is this sink? I mean I’ve had to pee in entire forests before and I’ll be damned if every time I didn’t get some drip of pee on me and the entire woods was my target. This guy had one tiny sink to aim at ….how is this possible?

I’m gonna vote he was naked before he crawled up there. Which only brings to mind the fact that some person left their clothes on the floor of a bathroom – and then put them back on – against his skin – on purpose. My God – I’m getting the dry heaves typing this.

So yah okay – let’s say he does his thing….now where is the damn toilet paper??? Oh – it’s OVER THERE next to the toilet! Novel idea. I guess that’s also because you’re supposed to shit over there. Probably why there aren’t toilet paper dispensers next to the soap dispenser by the sink.

I’d break my neck getting down. And you all know damn well on my quest to get down - my foot would slip and inevitably land right in my own shit.  It would serve me right but still....

And you know what else? This means said person could NOT wash their hands after so politely using the restroom….you know, cuz the sink is full.

My luck I’d walk out and my boss would be in line to come in. I might as well stick a pink flag in my “load” saying….Draz was here.

And this is funny how? I’m not a prude – I love a prank as well as the next guy but my God in Heaven I can’t fathom first thinking of this and then actually doing it. And if you do it you’re gonna wanna brag about it right? I’m not sure I could get the words out without my head spinning like I’m possessed.

And then when my brain is done going into convulsions over the logistics of this….I’d start sobbing….for the janitor.

I mean how does one clean this? For realz. With a spatula? Their hand with mittens on? A bucket? A fork? A shop-vac?  Do you blow dry it and hope it melts?

Then when it’s out – do you use 18 rolls of paper towels and 16 cans of bleach to clean the remnants off the sink and still vow to yourself you can never pee in this bathroom as long as you live again? Do you put it in a trash can? A purse? A ziploc? What? I mean what do they make out there to hold a pile of shit…….besides diapers? Do you obviously resign the next day and file workman’s comp for emotional distress?

And when you go home that night and the wife asks, “How was your day dear?”….won’t it be fun to respond….”It was nothing but a bunch of bullshit.”….and mean it?

I feel dirty. I gotta go shower.

I get my horror of poop honestly. Like I said Rambo works in a prison – and you guys cannot even imagine the things a human locked in a tiny cell for 24 hours a day can do with poop….including throw it at my husband, smear it on the walls and yes – even eat the corn out of it. I’m not making this “shit” up. See? My fears are valid right?

Weirdness and damn near paradise.

Today is a weird day. It is only a little past 7am and it’s already 80 degrees out...and I am on edge.   I wouldn’t normally give a rat’s ass about this – in fact – I love the heat BUT today it makes me worry.


Rambo worked nearly a 16 hour shift at the prison last night and there is no air there so he was soaked in sweat most of the day. A prisoner was found with material on how to make a bomb so he had to be taken out for temporary lock up and put in full restraints. Rambo was getting irritated…the guy was not cooperating and copping an attitude. Rambo told him enough was enough and gave him a direct order to look forward at all times on the way to his new cell.

After being restrained, another inmate yelled something which caused Rambo’s inmate to turn completely around and face Rambo. That’s a huge no-no. You must face forward for safety. Turning results in attempted assault by way of spitting or biting….and it also gives Rambo the right to take your ass to the ground….which he did. Rambo plowed him into the wall and ended up on the floor with 4 other guys. The guy is all bloody but complacent now and Rambo hurt his neck.

This is the story of his day…..and when he asks how my day was I say, “Um fine…I sat in an air conditioned office and drank my water.” The differences on days like these are striking. I picture him taking someone down, yelling orders to his team, directing inmates in a matter of fact tone….being a man who guards men who have raped children. It is scary. Most days I don’t think about it…other days I do.

Anyway – back to the weather and why I worry. Heat index in the 100s…and today Rambo has SWAT training in full on black riot gear outside. I’m worried for him. I shouldn’t be…he’s a big boy and he knows how to train in the heat and if there was a riot or escape he’d have to “weather” the weather. I just hope they are smart enough to stay hydrated. They are men you know – and men have been known to be all, “No, no I’m fine…I don’t need no flipping water…I’m no sissy.”…….as they pass out.

So that’s reason one I feel weird. I also feel weird cuz my two little girls are going camping in this weather with the in-laws. I can admit it – I crave me and Rambo alone time – which means time without my kids. It doesn’t bother me to have them be gone for a bit. But today it hurt my heart to walk away. I can also be a complete jerk and admit it’s because I don’t trust the in-laws 100%. They aren’t THAT mobile if my kid goes in the deep end of the pool too fast or something you know? I’m just a tad worried I guess…and I don’t often worry about them. I looked at them waving goodbye and thought “my God – they are beautiful children….how are they mine….and how do they drive me nuts when today I just want to grab them and take them home?”

Weird huh?

Ah well – children being gone means the once flooded basement floor may get painted. I have an appointment to get my belly button repierced for the bikini days on vacay. My theory is put enough bling in my BB ring to distract them from my fat rolls. I really want my Ghost tattoo too but I’m not sure my artist will do it knowing in 10 days I’ll be in a pool. We shall see.

Speaking of vacation – plans for covering me at work have begun and it makes me scared. I’m a perfectionist who of course can do everything better than anyone else. LOL It’s hard to hand things over knowing they won’t do it “my” way but it’s a good thing to learn to let go. It’ll take 3 people to cover me and no, I’m not bragging….I’m actually saying that makes me feel guilty. On the other hand – in 10 years they’ve all taken vacations and I cover…this is my first so returning the favor should be no big deal.

Do you guys know what I’m most looking forward to?

A clean toilet for 8 days. No poop up the sides. No explosive noises all day long.

Wow. Heaven.

In fact, that'll be damn near paradise.

Monday, August 9, 2010

Cheating and Ink

Hello all my virtual friends!


What a weekend! I went to two festivals this weekend and didn’t cheat (minus the 4 fritos) so I was pretty proud of myself. I didn’t fair so well at the family party. There was an entire table of desserts – I kid you not. My main meal was all Atkins friendly and so were my drinks – no alcohol…but I made the choice to have a cookie and a scotcheroo bar. Because I willingly made the choice I’m not going to whine about it…though I do regret it. Add that to the fact that most nights we went to bed around 2am and it equals me feeling like a truck hit me. I’m kinda glad about that. I’m pretty sure if I felt great I’d cop an attitude like “oh see…I can eat sugar all day long and feel fine.”

I don’t feel fine though. I feel like I should…lethargic, tired, no energy…off plan. I’m up one pound. By day’s end I hope to have it back off. I have planned all my meals and cooked them for the week and my motivation never left me. Vacation is in 10 days and I want to be at 155 by then. I can do it.

If nothing else I’ll just sit outside – it’s 100 degrees here and if you sit outside for about 5 minutes you lose a pound in sweat.

Rambo partook in one too many alcoholic beverages so he’s up a few pounds. He too, made the conscious choice. He too, is right back on plan today.

Funny enough – having the sweets/carbs doesn’t make me crave more. It makes me realize they really aren’t worth the poundage coming back. Interesting to say the least. In the past, a cheat usually means “What the hell – I might as well give up – I ruined it all.” Not this time.

Of course since it’s hotter than Satan’s crotch here that means we all wear less clothes and for me and Rambo that means our tattoos show more. You can’t miss his – he has them on his forearms. It’s so funny how many people say to me “You know, the first time I saw Rambo I was scared of him. The shaved head, goatee, the prison guard job and tattoos make him look mean…but it turns out he’s really a nice, great guy.”

I cringe a little because THIS is indeed why my parents HATE our tattoos….because of the stereotypes and the judgements you make when you see them and not the person behind them. I cringe cuz it’s reality and it happens. But if you’re a person who never meets the Rambo under the tattoos and you make a judgement about him anyway – then I’m pretty sure we don’t care what you think anyway.

People’s jaws drops when they hear I have quite a few too – 6 and more to come. They think I’m the smart one with the brains in this relationship – perhaps the one who would never mar her body with ink….and they don’t sometimes understand why I’m with “that” guy…the tattooed mean looking one. And then they realize I have them too. And I’m a career professional. I work 3 jobs. I have two little girls. I am….normal. I am not what is in their mind’s eye as a tattooed person. I don’t fit that description.

And for that brief moment – I am proud. I may have made them take a step back and realize you can’t judge a person by their looks, tattoos, hair, fat, clothes, etc. A man this weekend asked if I regretted any and without taking a breath I said no – and I meant it.

If you took a second to really look at Rambo's tattoos you'd see they are his baby's footprints or they represent our love and our past or the day he couldn't save his Grandpa from a fiery death....they are not just color, drawing and ink.  They are feelings, moments, treasures.

For me - my tattoos are the very one time in my life when I did something for me – against the wishes of my parents, soley because of what they meant to me, forever…permanently and they are one thing I do not hide about me. Every tattoo has meaning…some very deep and personal…and every one is painstakingly chosen and designed by me. They are mine. You can’t take them from me. They make me different. They make me brave. They make me the woman married to the amazing man who is covered in tattoos himself.

They make you close-minded if you can’t see beyond them. So please…if you find yourself making judgements based on piercings, tattoos, clothes, weight, etc….stop….and remember Drazil and Rambo…and know the ink doesn’t make the person.

I believe the person makes the ink.

Saturday, August 7, 2010

Dammit...the peckerhead pulls ahead....

Oh alright fine - he's not a peckerhead.  Secretly I'm proud - ecstatic - flipping off the charts happy...but here he gets to be a peckerhead.  Yes, my friends...Rambo has surpassed me in weight loss.  AND GET THIS???  He had three damn beers.  What the holy hell?

He's lost 11 lbs now....and I'm down a solid 10.  159 today.  Wowser.  That's damn close to my tummy tuck weight of 153.  Some days this doesn't seem real...because most days it is effortless. 

My pants are starting to fall off....10lbs has always been a size drop for me and it happened again. Shit.  I have no desire to get another new wardrobe.  I've done it too many times for it to be fun anymore...it's just expensive.

Rambo took off his wedding ring today.  This seriously makes me sad.  In my eyes, there is nothing sexier than a man who chooses to wear a wedding ring.  Especially Rambo.  Wearing a wedding ring at the prison he works at is dangerous...it lets the prisoners know he is married and that's a personal tidbit they don't need to know - but he wears it because it means so much to both of us.  But he has to take it off - or it will fall off.  It's just a little thing...but it matters...and it can be fixed so it's okay.

There's a festival in town and for our small town it's HUGE.  The whole town goes and it's a big party.  I won't lie.  My 4 yr old - Banana - had a bag of Fritos and she left 4 in the bag and I ate them.  So 4 Fritos.  That's officially a cheat.  But it didn't make me want carbs by the bucket or want more.  Actually it was that whole "I have to finish what my child doesn't eat and I cannot let food go to waste mentality" that made me want to eat the Fritos.  I wasn't hungry and they weren't that good.  But a cheat is a cheat so I'm reporting it.

Rambo did not even crack his first beer until about 10pm.  He had 3.  In the past let's just say that amount could have easily tripled.  Earlier I told him to eat and he said, "I'm just not hungry."  Damn if I can't say the same thing.

We both respond well to protein...so we are not eating enough - cuz we ain't hungry and oddly enough - all of a sudden - it feels weird to eat when we aren't hungry.  What the what?  How weird is that? 

We need to eat more and don't want to.  I think my body will never respond well to carbs - not after having gestational diabetes anyway.  This diet or way of life - is smart for me.  I have attended parties and festivals and such....and I got through them.  It never even killed me.  Who knew? 

Right now our life is full with events, summer things, sports, 6 jobs between us, and flooded basements sooo when I say there is little time to exercise I mean it.  Rambo wakes up at 4am so yah - he could get up at 3am to work out but that's not realistic.  To lose weight without formal exercise is a blessing right now.  We are active people on our own so exercise is a bonus....and we fully plan to get back to it. 

After all - I have a half marathon to run you know?  I did not forget my goal.

12 days until vacation.  Holy mother of God - that's scary. 

My main concern is....

......do I have enough suitcases for all the shoes I need to pack....to match my bikinis I plan to rock out??

And how do I not blog for 8 days?  I can't even fathom it....

Friday, August 6, 2010

BYOC Friday!!!!! ♥♪ Bring Your Own Craziness ♥♪

Time for BYOC – a little diddy where you answer 5 questions in your blog so we all get to know each other better and to give your fried brain a break! Enjoy!


1. This is something a bit different and comes from my lovey dove Barbara (My NEW LIFE rules). It’s called “Which one would you rather?”….

Tom Cruise or
Tom Brady?

Mr. Big (Sex and the City) or
Tony Little (excercise nut)?

Whoopi Goldberg or
Making whoopi?

** My answers. Tom Brady hands down. Tom Cruise is a hottie-bo-bottie BUT he drives me nutso. And I love football so Tom Brady makes me happy.

Mr. Big fo sho. Oh that man…he’s dead sexy yes? And making whoopi – again – no doubt. Whoopi Goldberg drives me CRAZY….except for when she was in Ghost….lol.

2. I know some of us have discussed this before but I’ve been thinking and hearing it more in blog land as many of you are getting closer to goal. How do you feel about plastic surgery? What lengths would you go to in order to achieve it?

** I never ever in my wildest dreams thought I’d have another plastic surgery after my breast reduction. But then after years of diet and exercise and hanging skin left – it was the culmination of my journey and I walked out of that office knowing I’d have sold my soul to get that tummy tuck. I can’t explain it – but something in me knew I’d never be whole without it. It was the first thing I ever did completely for me and I paid for it myself. I swore that was it….but as I get older and lose more my little boobies are in serious need of help. Some days I contemplate a lift or hell even a “fill” (haha) cuz Rambo would love it right? But I just don’t know….who the hell gets a reduction and then an augmentation!??? Can you say insane?

3. What’s your favorite website?

** This changes a lot for me but right now it’s Atkins.com. I read the forums daily to stay on track, get new recipes and make sure I’m following the guidelines. For fun websites I read People.com every day.

4. What’s your best tip for having a great vacation? (Yes, this is me being selfish….getting slightly nervous about my first vacay ever in 13 DAYS!)

** I don’t have any tips here cuz the longest I’ve ever been gone since I’ve had kids is 2 days. I do think not having a schedule is fun….every moment of our lives seems scheduled so it’s fun to stop that for a while. Valium is a good tip too I would think.

5. Repeat question….which blog or comment stuck with you the most this week and why?

** Can I be a complete ass here and say my post on my daughter stuck with me…it was hard to write and hard to read but I’m very excited about my action plan. All your comments have been so reassuring and I feel less guilty as I read each of them.

The Features of the day for the BOOBs blog have been fun for me to write too!

Karma knows....I have proof.

Before I partake in BYOC (I’ll do a separate blog for that) – I’d like to share a little story with you. It focuses on how karma bites not so great people in the ass….um, people like me.


There is a little competition going on where I work. Our company bought us all pedometers. We formed teams. Hoopla was properly given to the program. We all walk.

Then we all realize the pedometers don’t work. Nice. Some work, some do not. Mine does not. I get another one. It still does not work.

I’m silently praising God I have an excuse to not log any steps because it started right as I got my foot tattoo and I haven’t gone any extra steps since that day. I suckola in the wracking up steps department. Martha Stewart (co-worker) is promptly kicking my ass every day. She walks miles every morning with her two perfect dogs who wear perfect slippers and then comes to work and eats Cheetos for breakfast.

Anywhoozle…Martha Stewart knows she is kicking my ass because Martha could not dare put a free cheap pedometer on her waist. Eek – can you imagine – such cheap plastic touching her spa-like skin? No way. She bought an expensive one…it even talks to her. It says things like, “Listen up Martha…walking 2 miles every morning ain’t gonna do shit when you eat enough for lunch to feed a linebacker. And that bottle of wine you have every night….um, duh.”

Anyway – we have to report our daily steps. And well, Miss Draz doesn’t freaking know her steps cuz her pedometer doesn’t work soooooooo……wanna know what I’ve been doing?

Guessing. Estimating.

Translation = lying. We aren’t going to win so it’s not like I’m stealing some huge prize because of my “guessing” you know?

Okay – so all is well until yesterday a new shipment of pedometers comes in. I get one. They are nicer….meaning they actually work. I wear it proudly. I will no longer have to tempt fate and lie. All is well in pedometer world.

I go to a movie last night (Despicable Me – which by the way ROCKS!) and because I now drink gallons of water a day I must pee. I must get over my public restroom fear and pee in public. I can do this. I can. And I do.

I get in there. I whip off my now loose pants and I hear a “thunk” and a “plop”. Oh shit no. Please don’t let that be what I think it is. I turn around and sure enough….there’s my freaking pedometer….floating in public toilet water.

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME? What the holy hell did I do to deserve this? Oh yah, lie. Oopsie.

Yes, yes, yours truly stuck my perfectly blinged out manicured hands into the water and got the pedometer. Then I threw up. Okay - no I didn’t - but I wanted to.

Moral of the story. Lying is bad. Karma knows. Beware of toilets.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

An experiment and an anniversary...

Two completely different topics today. One makes me very contemplative and somewhat sad….the other lights up my world.

First the tough one. My daughter. I eluded to the fact yesterday that sometimes I struggle parenting her. Let me be clear – this is all MY burden, no fault of hers…she’s only 9. I’m sure I’m going to say some things that shock you and make you want to hit the unfollow button but say them I must. The thing is I’m going to admit that while my amount and volume of love for my girls is the same….I still love them differently. Because they are different. One is harder for me to love, one is easier….but love them I do. The one I’m talking about has a nickname. It’s Watermelon. (Don’t ask, just love it) Watermelon needs me…a lot. She needs extra love, extra kisses, extra hugs, extra time, is super sensitive, super loving, smart, and beautiful. On days when I’ve worked my brain for 9 hours and have work from two other jobs still looming and I get home, I just want to veg. I want to love on an even stance….I don’t have it in me to over-love like she needs.

I don’t want to be needed that much. It drains me and so I avoid it. I give the normal amount….which is not what she needs. She did not choose to be my daughter, I chose to be her parent. I want to give her everything she needs so she never has to grow up and write blogs where she says she was neglected….like I do. I want to be available to her and open…not closed off because I simply don’t have the strength to handle the emotions she makes me face. It’s MY problem, not hers, that she makes me remember being a little girl…wanting extra…and not getting it. How dare I perpetuate that feeling in anyone else on this earth?

She’s also at an age where she can be snotty and say nasty things when she’s mad and we can fight – and that alone – adds to the fact that I don’t want to extra love her. She is a kid so one minute she can hate me, and the next she needs me to hold her. I’m an adult – I can’t let go that easy.

The thing is I want to change all this. I’m done repeating history and patterns just because it’s easier to go with the status quo. The bottom line is…

She needs me. And she needs me to step it up. And I can. If I would just try.

The thing is – I need to not love her more….I need to find a way to like her more. Like her as in wanting to talk to her, spending time with her, planning me and her time. I need to like her as a person as well as love her as a mom. Or I’ll scar her forever and she’ll feel neglected and unloved….like I did….and she’ll know it was a choice I made. And she’ll resent that…

Soooo – the experiment is this. I’ve made a list of things I can do with her. Just her. Like read before bed together out loud every night. Do each other’s nails. Have a soda session where we go to the local eatery and just share a soda…her and I. Go out for lunch. Shop for a day. Go in HER room and talk. Download songs together. Etc. The point is – me and her – that’s it. Time. My attention. My “extra” love.

Undivided. Not forced. Real. More.

I’m going to implement these things without telling her and see how it changes her….and me. It’s my choice and she’s worth making it.

Oh that was heavy....and didn't paint me a in very good light but it's the truth...and I'm done pretending it's not.

On to the anniversary.

20 years ago today Rambo and I had our first date…we saw the movie Ghost. Some time this month we’ll both be getting a tiny ghost tattoo with a tiny read heart on its chest. It’s the day that started it all. The hopes, the dreams, the possibilities….the love I never thought I deserved…and probably still don’t. 20 years later and Rambo still gives me butterflies…still calms me with one touch of his hand….still makes my breath come easier if he walks in a room. He is the half of me that makes me whole and he’s the love and kind of man I pray and hope my girls marry some day. He’s the kind of father I wish I had and seeing him with my girls can still take my literal breath away. Without him, I am not me. And I wouldn’t want to be. I love you Rambo…..you and all your guns….here’s to another 20…and another….and another……..

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

I Wish Wednesday...

It’s I Wish Wednesday in Care Bear Land today…..I think it’s gonna be a doozey.


1. I wish I didn’t sweat like a large boar. Yes, I said large boar. Dudes – I’m not kidding. I am a sweat-er. Not sweater like in pretty little cashmere sweater to wear I mean like sweat-er like a dripping professional wrestler. Do any of you sweat excessively? It is not fun. I can sit at my desk (my office is always hot which doesn’t help) and feel sweat drip down my back – it’s disgusting. I usually have armpit sweat marks – but I recently found deodorant at Walmart for like $8 a bottle (yes, it’s worth it) and it has almost completely stopped that problem. YAY! It doesn’t help that I’m nervous a lot – so it’s worse in social situations but man it’s annoying. When I run/work out – I love it. A good sweat means I worked hard. In the career world – not so much. Bleh. But it really doesn’t matter….

2. I wish I wasn’t panicking about vacation and I hope Jenny keeps repeating to me that I’ll be fine. The first one. The longest one. Away from home (we’ve established I’m a home body). With people I’ve never met before. With the mother-in-law. You should see the lists I’m making and preparing. You should be in my mind listening to me mentally prepare myself. “You can do this. It will be fun. Go with the flow. Enjoy. Relax. Work won’t stop without you. You’ll be with Rambo and your girls every second. Take the risk. Take the XANAX!” I know to many of you vacations are normal and they are looked forward to. I am excited but I’m scared to death. But it really doesn’t matter…..fear has nothing on me.

3. I wish that I would have hit 158 today just to show all my commenters that their chanting and praying worked. It sort of worked. I saw a FIVE. 159.5. I haven’t seen a five since 2008 – pre-tummy tuck. Wowsers. No cheating, no caffeine, no sugar. What the holy hell has gotten into me? Draz is going into convulsions cuz he’s never allowed me to stop talking negative long enough to actually succeed like this and Sheniqua….welll….she’s only got 9.5 lbs left on her until I reach ultimate goal. She’s scerrrred! Anyone want her when I’m done with her? I’ll sell her…cheap…..maybe even free.

4. I wish I didn’t shut myself off to my 9 year old daughter – simply because she’s so much like me that it panics me. She’s scared, emotional, loving, sensitive, and needs attention – just like I did when I was little. I never got that. I am me because of that neglect. And now – I fear – I’m doing the same to her because facing who she is and remembering is too painful. I have recognized this. I am fighting it. I am doing my best to give more and be more to her because when I do her spirit lights up. I’m doing everything I can not to hate myself for passing on my traits to her. I’m trying to believe it’s not my fault. I’m trying to know her story won’t end the same way as mine. I’m trying to stop fearing she’ll fight the same demons I did. When I cry about this Rambo says, “If she fights those same demons, we’ll know faster and better than your mom did because we know the signs….and she’ll be okay.” And he hugs her tighter and tell her he loves her one more time….in case I can’t.

5. I wish used to be flooded floors painted themselves. I wish furniture – heavy ass furniture – moved itself to said used to be flooded room. But *sigh* - doing it ourselves brings much internal pride….and much more sweat.

6. I wish this weekend goes well. We have social outings planned for each day. Huge festival in town. Major family party complete with a band. Parades and games. Every day will be tons of fun….and internal angst. But less than ever before because I’m the new me…and the new me has proven I can do anything and live through it.

7. I wish Jenny lived next door. Period. Next. Fricking. Door. Before I’d go to all these social events she’d pre-approve my outfit, tell me I look hot and then say “you can do this”. And I’d believe her. My blood pressure wouldn’t spike. I wouldn’t get hives. It’d be that simple.

8. I wish I had been a better commenter this week. I’m reading but not commenting. I know that’s terrible. I know. And I’m sorry – I’ll do better.


What do you wish?

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Goats, skittles and beds.......yup....all in one post.

Hello my little goat turds.

Not an insult. Seriously – ever seen goat turds? They look like blueberries…only you shouldn’t eat them.

Speaking of goats….here’s a fascinating fact I bet you didn’t know (except for Jenny). Before my parent’s home flooded they had 3 white goats. They lived on the hill behind the house and kept the weeds down. Two were swept away in the flood. One lived. It still lives….there….at the flooded house. It thinks it is in paradise. It eats every plant that was forbidden to it before. It goes in the kitchen, in the bathroom, upstairs, downstairs….hangs out….with his homies…the raccoons and chipmunks. He’s like the Daddy Pimp of the homestead…with his own pimped out house to live in. Until FEMA tears it down. We get about a call a month saying, “Did you know your goat is still down there at the flooded house?”

No shit really? OMG we better lock up the house so it doesn’t get inside and ruin anything the looters haven’t gotten already. Wow.

I bet you feel better about life in general after learning this fact. Yes?

Fine…moving on. I talked to Jenny (BFF) two days in a row – like real talk – on the phone. Here’s how I can explain that little moment in my day. To all of you coffee drinkers who say your day isn’t right without it and you function about 75% without it…well that’s how I feel about Jenny’s phone calls. She’s my coffee. She takes my function “life will be alright” meter up to 100%. There’s nothing like taking turns comparing who has the crazier family…and saying have a good day to someone I love and hearing it back knowing she means it.

Okay and lastly, yours truly is still sitting at 160. Blech. Whatever. I want a 5 dammit. If I have to go all ghetto on my scale’s ass I will. I have not cheated. In fact, dare I say I might not be eating enough? You guys – seriously – and I’m not even just blowing smoke up your shrinking asses - I am not hungry.

Now let’s all reflect and remember the last time Draz wasn’t hungry. Oh yes, in the womb and oh yes, on my death bed from depression. Dudes – even when I was in my 24th hour of labor with no pain meds…I’m pretty sure I could have ordered a pizza. I don’t understand this new thing called “not hungry”.

I think of eating. I have packed enough to feed a monster after all. But it isn’t calling to me. Food ALWAYS calls to me. Food ALWAYS has the power. I guess I could care less now. There is no limit on the allowed choices I can eat so I guess it’s like if I can have it what’s the big deal…I’ll wait until I’m hungry.

That sounds so stupid huh? But listen, my food overeating history goes way back to when I was a little girl. We were poor but I was still hungry….go figure. There was never enough and if there was leftovers – that was for my Dad. I never felt full. Never enough. Just never enough. So years later when I grew up and had money coming out of my ass (we had no kids once upon a time) I ate what I wanted when I wanted cuz I could….cuz there was finally enough and no one could tell me I couldn’t.

Now I can eat what I want when I want – the diet even says so. Turns out that little tidbit plus the fact that I’m seriously not hungry add up to no cheating. If someone stuck a Milky Way in front of me I’m 99% sure I’d turn it down. I know I would. It’s just not worth it at this point…especially if this diet ends up stopping my migraines. I feel like I’m on some 12 step process and everywhere I go I say “It has been 7 days since I’ve been sober….from sugar.” I carry it like some badge. Someone get me a medal or trophy or something.

So yes, please all of you get down on your knees like the good little ho bags you are….that was my pathetic attempt at a sort of sexual joke….did you get it?.....anyway – and pray that Draz sees a 15something tomorrow.

For now, I’m off to bathe in a rainbow Skittles….just cuz I like the way they feel on my naked exfoliated, yet still razor burned body….NOT cuz I’m gonna inhale without chewing half of them.

I’m too full. Who needs Skittles anyway?

Oh oh and tonight operation empty daughter’s room continues. Only the bed is left. Rambo and I shall conquer that tonight…it could be fun.

Monday, August 2, 2010

Apologies and still winning....

I owe all of you an apology – a teensy one at least. Remember last week’s freak out? Who doesn’t right? Well – as history has shown – I may have over-reacted. Yes indeedy – my basement flooded and ripping up newly installed carpet still sucks big hairy donkey balls but it’s dry now and new info has come to light. Remember how in order to fix this problem we were going to have to dig all the way around my house and dig up 10 years of landscaping to install drain tile and tar the basement walls?


Yah, um…I called the builders (perk of living in a small town) and it turns out they did that when they built. God bless wealthy builders who do things way back 35 yrs ago even when they aren’t the norm and even when they cost more. We may indeed have to dig – just a little – to see if the drain tile is plugged but we just saved major digging and major money. Big time. I nearly wet my pants at the news.

Then I felt guilty. Like why do I freak out? Why don’t I just believe and have more faith that things will always work out how they should? Hmmm…lesson learned I hope.  I am sorry to have worried and freaked all of you out so much though...

Operation move scared daughter upstairs is in the works. I’ve ordered her a new twin bed and headboard and her room downstairs is almost cleared. We’re going to paint the floors and then it’ll become Rambo’s man cave. Should be fun. Yah….not so much. Fun when done – not so much fun doing it.

Oh onto another completely different topic. Remember whootananny shaving and the exfoliating dream method (from Mrs. Fatass) that eliminated razor bumps? It worked for a while and now they are coming back no matter if I scrub all the way through my legs to my ass. I remember that a bunch of you posted about razor bump products that you said totally work and are to die for. Anyone care to let me know what those are again? I’m going on vacay and will be sporting major bikinis and I’d like the father-in-law to not stare at my cooter. OMG – I just threw up in my mouth.

Mrs. Fatass….is the exfoliating still working for you? You must have better skin than me or perhaps aren’t as lazy as me and maintain it better. Do tell. Inquiring minds want to know.

Also – I’m down another ½ pound and so is Rambo. Let me just say because he cheats with a beer here and there I am still winning. I’m at 9lbs lost in 12 days and he’s at 8.5lbs lost in 12 days. My rings are spinning like crazy and my boobies look like ant hills……boohoo! Rambo’s prison guard uniforms fit better. We’re kicking ass and taking names. Tomorrow makes a full week on Atkins for me (see below) and I’m super proud of me. It’s really never been this easy and I haven’t worked out in forever – which is fine – cuz I don’t have time.

Many of you ask what I’m actually doing so here’s where I started.

Day 1 – 4 – Detox – 500 calories – no sugar – no caffeine – pre-Atkins prep – everyone thinks Draz lost her mind

Day 1 – 169
Day 2 – 166
Day 3 – 163.5
Day 4 – 164

Day 5 – 6 – off plan – weekend picnics – full sugar, full caffeine – whacked out on life
No weighing - why bother right?

Day 7 to – now – Atkins – no sugar – no caffeine – Draz still crazy but not high on sugar anymore

Day 7 – 164.5
Day 8 – 163
Day 9 – 162
Day 10 – 161.5
Day 11 – 161
Day 12 – 161
Day 13 – 160.5
Day 14 – 160

I guess technically it’s 9 lbs in 14 days but I don’t count the two in the middle where I wasn’t trying to lose and was juiced up on all things sugary and processed. Hey – I never said I was a role model.

Either way – it’s been a week with no sugar and caffeine and I’m on a roll. Same for Rambo.

While I say this is easy – let’s not be too hasty in saying it’s not tough at the same time. I have two kids with metabolisms and activity levels that rival the Tazmanian Devil. This weekend I fed them any number of these things – ALL which are not Atkins approved – ALL which I had to touch but could not eat….cheetos, fruit roll ups, apples, butter lovers popcorn, gravy, freezie pops, buns filled with peanut butter, potato chips, and ice cream. Yes, they had other healthy things in there but you get my drift. To touch these things and smell them and not eat them is tough…but not too tough that I can’t do it. Weird huh?

Here’s hoping for the 150s tomorrow. 18 days until vacay and I’d love to be 150 by then but I doubt I can continue losing ½ lb a day until then. We shall see!

Sunday, August 1, 2010

This is getting ridiculous.......

Rambo sucks.  He cheated last night - we went to a party.  (Oh God that sounds horrible if you don't know I'm talking about dieting!) 

Big deal for me first in that we went.  All day I said, "Nope, we're not going.  I want to stay home.  I need to stay home."  And Rambo obliged and said, "Okay, if that's what you want."  And then sneakily all day he prodded.....with things like "we could go, it would be fun", "we should go, they'd like to see us there", etc etc.

So the time came and I said "let's go".  I forced it.  I have to because to sit at home would have been the old Draz and I have to keep pushing.  We went.  It was a surprise anniversary party for my favorite aunt and uncle.  They were overjoyed to see we came.....it was a good thing.

Anywhoozle.  Ham sandwiches.  SIX bowls of different kinds of chips.  THREE platters of cookies.  A mom and a sister eating it ALL....saying "can't you have just one?"  Assholes.  NO - ever heard of support?

Ugh.  I had a piece of cheese - totally allowed.  I ate before we went - I prepared.  Rambo did the same.

Except he had two beers.  Peckerhead.

Here's the really nasty part.  He still lost 1/2 a pound.  He emailed me this morning when I called him a turd for it and said this:

"Honey, it's just a thing I do.  Don't hate the player....hate the game."

I swear to God - underneath every pound of fat he loses is a bigger SMARTASS.  I hate him.

Oh and I lost another 1/2 pound.  8.5 in 11 days.  Not too shabby.  It's 9:30am and I have to make myself eat something.  Food is losing its appeal.  Weird.  Did you fall off your chairs when I said that? 

I did.

P.S. Pepsi is still in the fridge.  If anyone ever comes over it might be nice to offer them a soda and plus....I like to test myself.....and win.