Living in CHAOS! or Blog Party, part One

Hey, you!

What are you doing here? Blog party? Is it the 7th already? Oh, god, it is!

Well, don't just stand there in the doorway, come in. I'm not really ready yet, though. You know how it is, living with a four year old... CHAOS everywhere (Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome!) Sorry about the mess... oh, careful, you don't want to sit on the sofa just yet. My daughter likes to hide stuff under the couch cushions. Come on in the kitchen. You can lean in the doorway and we'll just chat while I get the dishes done, okay?

Hmmm? Oh, my dress! You like it? So do I. It's just my housedress, but it's really comfy... and it's so colorful, you can't really tell that I've spilled things on it. No, seriously, see those spots? That's bleach, from when I had a bleach pen explode on me a few months ago.

Would you like some chili? I've got the crock pot going. Oh, no, don't worry, it's vegetarian. Only three weight watchers points per serving. I made it with those Soy crumbles, and even Thomas, the "I did not claw my way to the top of the food chain to eat veggies" guy? He couldn't tell the difference. I've got some chopped onions in the fridge, if you want, and there's hot sauce in the breakfront there. No, up one shelf, there. Behind all my Crystal Light flavor tubes. There ya go. Oh, you probably don't want that one. I got given that one as a joke, and it's claw your eyeballs out hot. Yeah, cute bottle, though. Well, maybe not " Cute", exactly. My step dad gave it to me, and he's Texan. You know how those Texans are...

Ah, I'm glad you like it. Yeah, the canned corn adds something to chili, I'm not sure quite what, tho. Little crunch, maybe. I like using the different colored beans, too. Kidney, black beans, navy beans... makes the dish look more fun.

Well, if you're done just toss the bowl in the dish-washer, I'm almost ready to start the load up. Of course you can help, my goodness, we don't stand on ceremony here. The broom's in the closet. My mom used to have this poem on her kitchen wall, but I'm not like that.

Please stay away from my kitchen,
From my dishwashing, cooking and such.
You were kind to have offered to help me,
And I do want to thank you so much.
I hope you won't think me ungracious
When I ask that you leave me alone,
For my kitchen is not very spacious
And my system is strictly my own.
So please stay away of my kitchen,
It may well prevent a few wars,
And if I am invited to your house,
I promise I'll stay out of yours.

Yeah, I think it's cute, too. Not that she really meant it, you know. My grandmother never did, either. The first time my dad brought my mom to his house to meet his mom, she was standing in the doorway, just like you are now, making polite conversation. And my grandmother threw the broom at her. "As long as you're standing there, you may as well sweep the floor."

I promise, though, I won't throw anything at you.

I don't think I caught your name, though. I know, open invitation party and all, it gets hard to keep track of everyone. Fun, though.

Oh, me? Yeah, ok. I'm Lynn. I'm a 35 year old housewife in southern Virginia. I have a bachelor's degree in Victorian Literature (Would you like fries with that?) and I've written a couple novels that haven't been published yet. That raisinette in the bathroom who's been in the tub for over an hour now? That's my daughter, Darcy. She's four. Oh, I said that already, didn't I? Yeah, she's our only. I wouldn't mind another one, though. I love babies.

Oh dear. Sorry about that, yeah, my hand weights. I was working out yesterday and I didn't put them away. They're only three pounders, but I'm working my way up. (Working my weight down? Sorry, bad pun. I know, I know.) Hey, at least I put the tennis rackets away!

Ok, well, you just mingle, and I'm going to get these cheesecake parfaits started. Yeah, I can give you the recipe later, just remind me...

*Update: I have posted the cheesecake recipe here.

If selected, these are the prizes I'm most interested in: 56, 41, 103, 76, 8, 24, 58, 60, and 90 Or anything else to do with scrapbooking, being the mom of a 4 year old girlie girl, or nutrition/diet stuff.

Third Time's the Charm

You know, I have two other blogs... both of them rather neglected...

One is my main blog, where my friends all go to look. Where I've gotten in trouble for posting some not particularly nice (albeit accurate) things about my step mother. Where people have found out things about me that I didn't want them to know (yes, my own fault, I mean, seriously...)

The other I made just so I could make comments on other people's blogs without having to go through a complicated anonymous commentary feature. I've used it a few times to say some vile things about my friends without having them know about it.

So, this will be my third blog (and fourth online diary, since I did write a hand-done html diary for a few years, the archives of which are all completely lost, and I wish they weren't.)

However, this is the only one where I have only one specific purpose in mind.

I wish to lose weight.

A lot. of weight.

I should say "I am going to lose weight." Or "I plan to lose weight." Perhaps I'm not really ready for a full life-change since I can only say "I wish."

I'm not talking about 5 pounds... or the Freshman Fifteen... I'm talking about probably a hundred pounds... that's a lot of weight to think about. My father constantly talks about needing to lose weight and the man probably weighs all of 140 pounds soaking wet. No, that's not me...

I am rather enormous. I wear a size 22. I'm just over five feet tall, maybe five three. If that. The last time I weighed myself (about five months ago at a doctor's appointment) I clocked in at 223 pounds. My 'ideal' body weight is 113 - 135 pounds.

Yeah. It's gonna be a long haul.

On the plus side: My husband of 11 years has decided he also wants to go on a diet. And the nice thing about it is that we decided this independently of each other, so right now, neither one of us feels pressured by what the other person wants. He has similar weight loss goals. He's 6 feet tall and the last time he weighed in, was coming in around 260 pounds. That was four years ago. I'm pretty sure he's gained weight since then.

Also, I know I can do it. When I was pregnant with my daughter, I came up gestational diabetic and had to go on a 1,500 calorie a day diet, plus injecting myself with insulin twice a day. My doctor told me I could gain NO weight while pregnant (which was, essentially, telling me to lose 30 pounds while pregnant!!). And I did it. When my pregnancy started, I weighed 237 pounds. When my pregnancy was over, I weighed 188. In nine months, I lost almost 50 pounds, and over the first six months of my daughter's life, I lost another 30. I got down to a size 16 jeans and almost into a 14. Then... I just let it go. It was easier not to worry...

You know what got to me... not the clothing sizes... or the aches in my knees... or the fact that I can't hold my daughter for more than a few minutes before I have to put her down again...

It was this picture:

What really got me is how weird and deformed I look... how tiny my head looks on top of this body that just expands in all directions around it.

I wear sleeveless shirts a lot, because I sweat. No matter what the temperature. If I'm wearing a shirt with sleeves, it takes about three hours before I have wet patches under my arms, despite changing my deodorant to a 'clinical strength'.

So...

This is our plan, my husband's and mine. Starting today, when he gets home from work, we're going to go for a walk... we'll walk three times a week to start; Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. I'm sure our daughter will enjoy it, she loves being outside, and I don't get outside nearly enough.

Heh. I wonder why.

In January, we're going to start attending Weight Watchers. We have several friends who've tried the plan and had success with it, and it's a balanced sort of plan that we think we can both follow.

Some other things:

At least for the time being, I don't plan to tell any of my friends that I'm on a diet. I have a couple of friends who mean well, but always manage to make me feel worse. One is the Lifetime Member of her weight watchers. I know that should be encouraging, that she's at her goal... but she was always such a tiny little thing. I mean, if you weigh 110 pounds, a two pound gain makes a huge difference. If I gain 2 pounds, no one would notice. Not even me. It's hard to feel encouraged by her, because she's ALWAYS been thin.

Another friend is a crummy dieter. For pretty much as long as I've known her, she's been on a diet, or just going to start a diet, or just given up on a diet... she cheats like crazy and she complains CONSTANTLY about dieting. It makes me want to eat an ice cream cake just to spite her. That's not her fault, and really, this is just about me. Her grousing about diets makes me want to eat the universe. So... I don't want to diet-buddy with her because I think I'd have to kill her, myself, or someone. And while I don't doubt being in prison would be enough depressing to cause me to lose some weight, there's got to be an easier way.

Also, I'm dubious about letting my dad know. Ditto on the always been thin thing. He's so skinny he disappears when he turns sideways. Also, he's a type-A Anal-Retentive fuckhead. He doesn't mean to be a fuckhead. But, he is, nonetheless, a complete fuckhead. I know he's trying to reform. And I appreciate it. But dieting is hard enough as it is without having to deal with fuckheadery, you know? He always wants to make things a contest. "Who can lose their goal weight faster!" Oh, come on, jackass, you can shave your eyebrow off and lose the weight. There's such a huge (pun intended) difference between 2 pounds and 100 pounds... there's no way I could win... I suppose if the contest is who can lose *more* weight, I'd probably win that without much trouble. He'd have to amputate a leg to catch up with what I could lose. But while my dad is keenly competitive, he's also not above stacking the odds in his favor. And he refuses to believe that men lose weight easier than women do, no matter how many studies have shown that to be true.

On the other hand, there's the great temptation to ask my dad to pay for it. Weight Watchers meetings are $40 a month, so for both of us, it's gonna take quite a large bite out of our budget. He could give it to us as a Christmas present, you know... but then, if he does, I have to report to him on how I'm doing, and he's going to nag me about failures (because of course, he's never failed in his life...) I don't know if it's worth the headache.

The last part of my plan is to keep this blog. I intend to post in it after each Weight Watchers meeting I have, and perhaps, after my 3 times a week walk.

So... wish me luck, if you want. Or not.