It’s All in the Attitude… I Guess.

Okay. I really haven’t had time to post this past week. I’ve really been busting my hump at the gym… I mean seriously: 90 minutes to 2 hours every day. Not to mention, I had a moderate gain last week and I really didn’t want to talk about it. I guess now it’s time. I gained .6 lbs last week. I’m sure it was because I was being a little sloppy with my measurements.

So this week I was really on my game. I measured and counted everything. For real, counting the number of chips and almonds. Leveling off my tablespoons. Replacing simple carbs with veggies, protein and complex carbs. Add that to the amount of gym time I’m putting in, and I was expecting a decent loss.

Yeah? You would be too? Well, I didn’t. I lost 1.4 and that was after having some stomach issues that should have caused an increased loss. Whatever though. I am frustrated. If I’m putting in this much effort, I really want results that reflect that. It kind of compounds the problem that there are SEVERAL people who are dropping 4-5 lbs a week and (on their admission) aren’t doing ANY kind of activity.

The argument of “Muscle Gain” isn’t valid, because the human body doesn’t build muscle very quickly. UGH. I’m not quitting though.

So, whatever. I’ll see you next week when I have a better attitude.

8lbs down.


Yes. I’m Pouting. -_-

Today, my best friend at work celebrated her last day in our facility. I’m super excited for the opportunities that have been presented to her. I’m also super selfish. And childish. And Pouty.

You know what I mean? Not the cute pout that girlfriends use to make their boyfriends go buy them another ice cream cone. No. I don’t have one of those. My sister does. She can get our father to give her anything she wants. I can’t even pout the lady at the mall into offering me a sample of her delicious bourbon chicken.

See this? This will get her all the icecream she wants… though from the looks of her, it isn’t much.

No. My pout is ugly. I have enough chins to build a staircase into the stratosphere. That’s the point where God looks at my pout and says, “Oye vey. Not my best work.”

THIS is what my face looks like. You might think its a dude being presented with a catfish, but this is my actual face, right now.

You know those girls… the ones who try to make ugly faces for a photobomb and they end up being called ridiculously photogenic girl, version 2.0. I hate them. And now I don’t feel like going to work tomorrow ever again. UGH. Someone, please bring me some ice cream.

The AVERAGE Woman.

Average: (adj.) AV-er-ij, AV-rij: typical, commonplace, ordinary, undistinguished or uninteresting; without individuality.

The average woman. It’s a phrase that is used with some frequency in literature that is usually meant to make us feel better about ourselves (being a woman, myself).

“The average woman in the United States, weighing in at 162.9lbs, wears a size 14 in jeans.”
‘The average woman will date 24 men before finding ‘Mr. Right’.”
“The average woman will attempt and fail at a diet 8 times”

Women’s view of themselves is so skewed. If you’ve never heard of Body Dysmorphic Disorder, it is a mental illness in which one is unable to focus on anything but a specific flaw or flaws, whether real or imagined. It is most commonly noted in girls who are obviously and dangerously thin and perceive themselves to be disgustingly overweight. I think that the number of women affected by BDD is severely underestimated.

Seeing isn't always believing.

So here is the reason I am blogging to you about my body mass woes. I found a website that lets you plug-in your stats (height, weight, pant size, shirt size, and body shape) and it brings up photos of real participating girls who have the same stats. It shows you a range of women who are built similarly to you, you know, kinda for perspective.
I plugged in my numbers. What I got was a pleasant surprise. The bodies that were shown were quite a bit thinner than I perceive myself to be, and after consult, several people agreed that they were similar to mine.So… of course I started tweaking the stats until I was given pictures that matched the idea of myself that I hold. To get pictures that look like the me in my head, I had to increase my weight by 25lbs, increase my pant size by 3 sizes and double my shirt size. I guess I have a long way to go before I have a healthy body image, but this helped me on a bad day. I hope it does the same for you.
Before you go play in the gallery, please let me say this: I have yet to meet a woman who was undistinguished (at least in some little way), uninteresting (there is SOMETHING interesting in every woman), or lacking individuality (we are all unique creatures, formed by our experiences). So I guess that means that none of us are AVERAGE. We’re all beautiful, flaws and all. So here I am raising a glass to all of my stretch marks, dimples, and acne; they come with the nice hair, sense of humor, and rocking legs. I think its time we like us for us. Cheers to thighs that touch at the top, arms that wiggle when you wave, and having room in my schedule to do something other than think about what I shouldn’t eat and living at the gym. Before you navigate away, drop a line in the comment box and tell me the BEST 3 things about yourself. Be brave, you’re beautful after all.
May I present: The Body Gallery .

Giorraíonn Beirt Bóthar

In the Irish language there is a saying, “Giorraíonn Beirt Bóthar”, which means ‘Two Shorten the Road’. It’s an acknowledgement that life is not about what you do, where you go or what you acquire, it’s about who you have by your side to share it with. I’ve been incredibly blessed concerning the people in my life already! There are some people who I have had to accompany me on this grand journey who are no longer sharing my road, but certainly left an impact, and I thought it would be cathartic to share them with you.

Edith Andrews Denney
If ever there was someone to whom the term “self-made” applied to, it was my grandmother. I’m always proud to consider her, not only as part of my lineage, but as part of the person that I have become. Abandoned by her mother and sisters and relatively uneducated; she made herself into a woman of a caliber that few ladies now-a-days could hope to reach. This is a pretty terrible picture of her, but it’s what I have…

She always said that she wanted me to have the necklace that she has on in that photo, and even though it isn’t worth a lot of money, it’s probably my most prized possession. Whenever I have a big day or event that I really wish she was still around for, I wear it.

Lewis Franklin Denney
My favorite thing about Frank was that he was who he was, regardless. He wore a bathrobe every year at Christmas and whenever he stoked the fire everyone giggled. He persevered for more years than I’ve been alive to overcome addictions and demons, even though any normal person would have just given up on being clean. He loved like no one else could and if you needed someone on your side, there was no one better to be found. He called me one day on my way home from work just to tell me that he loved me and that I was part of the system of encouragement that helped him stay clean.

Mary ‘Ginger’ Ballew Mills
My daddy’s sister, whom I only got the opportunity to spend time with once, was pretty incredible. She baked with me… which most people won’t do, because I don’t follow recipes. And when we had one afternoon free to spend just the two of us, we watched the movie Waitress three times in a row and now every time I experiment in the kitchen, I feel like she’s part of my inspiring force. She’s the loss that makes me a little upset. I don’t think its fair that I had so little time to get to know her. But life isn’t fair, so crying over it doesn’t do any good. She was hilarious and there is a very good story about a stuffed squirrel that I’ll have to tell some other time!

I was just having a bad day and I thought that talking it out would make me feel better. I really, really miss them. You know sometimes people come up in your thoughts or conversations during the day and they just stick with you. I think people who leave their mark on the lives of those around them should be praised and remembered.
I’m not sure how much this helped, but crying is something that has to happen on occasion and I’m trying to learn that. I hope you have people this great in your family. If not, I have a few pretty swell people alive in my life who I would be willing to share with you. Happy sailings, everyone…

Stuck in My Ambiguity

Okay, so, of course, today I’ve been hearing/reading all about the death of Osama bin Laden. 

 Here’s where I’m feeling a bit indeterminate: The victory over bin Laden is NOT the defeat of terrorism. It is not the end of this war. It is not an excuse for a mid-week bender. It is not the fix-all-bandage for the families of 9/11 and the families of the service men/women lost in Afghanistan/Iraq. 

The death of bin Laden will not crumble al-Qaeda. If anything, it has created a leadership vacuum that is going to result in a surge of terrorist activity. It has also invigorated an entire group of people with a renewed sense of hatred and sent them racing for reprisal. The surge in activity in the Middle East will mean that the troops will not be soon in returning home.

Please, don’t think I’m saying that we [meaning the Armed Forces] shouldn’t have gotten him. It’s war. People die. What I’m saying is that this is not an occasion for lighthearted comedy and Facebook posting.

Let me start on the half-witted, imbecilic Facebook posts today: It really makes me angry to read this thought-deficient trash that makes light of serious events. I actually wanted to copy some of them on here, but I’m not going to do that. Hear this, though: I am talking about YOUR post, whether you care or not. 

I stole this quote from one, Ms. Kelli Thornberry:
I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.”-Martin Luther King, Jr

The death of Osama bin Laden has not eased the wounds I feel of those lost in this war. It has not brought fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, brothers, sisters or friends back from the grave. It will not dry the tears that have been shed or ease the hurt of those who feel they have lost all that matters to them.

Please let me say this, I support our troops 100%. They make sacrifices that I cannot imagine and I have NOTHING but respect for the path they have chosen. I support standing up for people who cannot defend themselves. I didn’t mean for this post to seem anti-patriotic. I am proud of our military, especially our AMAZING Navy. I do not, however, want the hate to be multiplied any further, so I am letting my hate go. Do with yours what you please.

Bloody Good Dinner, Mate.

        I’ve had a hankering for something creole/Cajun for a few weeks  now and I’m not quite brave enough to subject myself to a restaurant named Joe’s O.K. Bayou. I don’t want okay. And I definitely don’t want a pseudonym as a pun. That’s literally one step away from a catering company run by Jeff Foxworthy.
        So, any who, off of that soap-box. I decided to try to make dirty rice with no recipe… dun dun dun. Now,  I know that dirty rice generally consists of  rice, chicken liver/gizzards, onions, peppers celery, etc, but I just wanted to ‘wing-it’. So here’s what I did:
Whole grain/brown rice cooked in chicken broth, chicken bullion, cayenne pepper, sun-dried tomatoes, cumin, crushed red pepper and some chives.

Next I cooked ground turkey with chopped onions, garlic, a pinch of nutmeg, peanut oil, and fresh-cut and chopped rosemary, basil and thyme…

I slipped chopping the last bunch of rosemary and dropped my RAZOR sharp butcher’s knife and tried to catch it out of reflex… the sound of the stainless steel when it hit the bone was kind of like a smothered PING.

        Okay, so I must admit that I know none of you all wanted to see that picture, but I wanted it there for dramatic effect.
        So once the turkey and onions were done, and the blood flow was well under control, I poured 1c. of hot water into the turkey pan and poured the not-quite done rice over the turkey and covered the pan to let it finish cooking.

Mom and dad came for dinner and brought green beans and biscuits leftover from Cracker Barrel. It was a wonderful dinner with my parents, who are the two best people in the world. Afterwards, we even delved into the cinnamon rolls from last night. Overall, it was a bloody good dinner, mate.

As If You Didn’t Know…..

Apparently, the American society as a whole, excluding me of course, has forgotten that when one is involved in a traffic accident, you are expected to STOP. Not once, but TWICE this week, yours truly has been involved in hit-and-run accidents! Friday, I was more or less side-swiped and I got these lovely trophies:

^^This is the cracked directional light and the big scratch on my quarter panel ^^

^^and this is where he annihilated my side-view mirror.^^

I was fairly resigned to the fact that this sort of thing happens all the time and, considering the possibilities, it wasn’t a big deal. No one was injured, and the damage was minor… And then there was Tuesday. Tuesday, after leaving work, I was sitting at a stop light and BAM! I wasn’t really upset, and I put on my caution lights so that we could exchange insurance info. However, when I looked in my side-view (you know, the one that was still there) I see the guy back up, pull around to my left side (into the on-coming lane, mind you), flipped me the bird, and took off down a side street into the projects. Here is the lovely keepsake that he left me:

It  doesn’t look like much, but the bumper is bent downward and it won’t budge! Okay so, in a flash of wisdom, albeit brief, I decided not to chase an unknown offender through a rather nefarious part of town. I’m plagued with a disappointment in the attitude of indifference that Americans, in general, have for the property of others. All in all, it isn’t really a big deal. Merely an annoyance.

At the end of the day I still get to come home to a wonderfully sad-faced puppy, who loves me. Howard says, “Hi.”