Last week I had a genius idea. I want to start a body building competition for women who have weight loss surgery. Of course, I am going to have to have some sponsors. Possibly Spanx? I know it can happen by the looks of the SWAG bags from BOOBS 2.0. (and btw, I am totally going to BOOBS 3.0)
Anywhoozle, this is what I was thinking.
Last Sunday, I was eye-f*&*king myself in my bedroom mirrors, and in a moment of high self-esteem I thought...hey...not so bad for someone who has lost 300 pounds.
Okay fine, 160.
Whatever. Numbers
So then I thought that I will never be able to compete in a real body building competition bc there is the loose skin that ain't going anywhere...and the cellulite. Those things stick around like stalkers that hide in your front bushes.
But I could compete against OTHER weight loss patients.
Here are the rules so far:
1. You will be placed in brackets by how much weight you have lost.
2. You cannot have had any plastic surgery.
I KNOW! This disqualifies some of you. Not to worry. You can be the judges! And who doesn't love judging people when there are actual prizes involved. And yes, if I ever get my boobs lifted I will keep the no plastic surgery rule...
with the exception of boob lifts.
hahha...
no.
for real.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Drunk Blogging
I'm not. But I could be. And that's the point.
Now that I have my trusty at home laptop, along with this novel thing called internet, I can blog freely from home. And I can do so snokered. (SUH-nah-curd)
I am one small glass of wine in. And I even poured like a lady should pour. You know, only about half full. Because to be honest, mama likes her wine glass full up to the top. You heard?
I have always longed for one of those jobs where you can have a sexy decanter or glass thingie full of you favorite adult beverage. Last night I decided I would become a lawyer just so I could drink brandy or whisky when I felt like it. Although, it would probably be more along the lines of Patron or Miller Lite. But you get my drift. Maybe more work would get done if we were all a little tipsy.
Anywhoozle, I remember the days of my single-dom, spent in my townhouse in Topeka, KS. I would make me some fruity martini, light up a clove, and set down at my computer to type. That's right. I thought I was Carrie Bradshaw.
I have another confession to make, now that I am almost at the bottom of my glass of wine. It's so tricky making confessions on my blog, now that I know my family members, and a smattering of important work collegues read this thing. But you know me....boundaries are for sissies.
You should know that my mood and self-worth are directly correlated to how often Heather and I do the dirty dancing. And of course by dirty dancing, I mean sex.
You see, as Heather has put it, I am like a teenage boy when it comes to sexy time. I could do it several times a day, every day....with Heather. This is honestly the first time in my life that I have been in a relationship that I wanted to have sex a lot. Usually, historically I should say, sex has been a "duty". But now, I just like it. And it's not about getting off, because let us be frank. I could do that in 60 seconds on my own if that was the case. It is about a connection. It is about a wanting and a desire. And really, its about feeling wanted and desired in return. And I suppose I could warrant some therapy sessions as it relates to this....my linking sex with love and desire. Because when I am thinking clearly, Heather shows me in so many ways that she loves me, wants me, and thinks I am as hot as [insert really hot person here]. But it boils down to this...because I want to jump her bones 99% of the time, I get my feelings hurt when she doesn't want to jump mine. And then I start to do...it. You know what I am talking about....
The negative self talk. And if there is one thing I am good at, it is talking shit to myself in my head. It's terrible and impressive all at the same time.
And so there you have it. And I know it sounds crazy when everything else in my life is awesome...that I let this one thing bring me down. And today is a good day because last night we talked about it at length, and then this morning....I got me a piece. But I know I need to work on my feelings about this on my side. I need to find clarity in moments of confusion.
So happy Saturday friends! I hope you find yourself with a nice bottle of wine or water (for those of you who are good and faithful bandsters), with the people you love, appreciating the good things in life.
Hugs and kisses until next time. Or until I drink a little more and then take naked pictures of myself or tell you about inappropriate dreams.
xoxo-your crazy Amy
Now that I have my trusty at home laptop, along with this novel thing called internet, I can blog freely from home. And I can do so snokered. (SUH-nah-curd)
I am one small glass of wine in. And I even poured like a lady should pour. You know, only about half full. Because to be honest, mama likes her wine glass full up to the top. You heard?
I have always longed for one of those jobs where you can have a sexy decanter or glass thingie full of you favorite adult beverage. Last night I decided I would become a lawyer just so I could drink brandy or whisky when I felt like it. Although, it would probably be more along the lines of Patron or Miller Lite. But you get my drift. Maybe more work would get done if we were all a little tipsy.
Anywhoozle, I remember the days of my single-dom, spent in my townhouse in Topeka, KS. I would make me some fruity martini, light up a clove, and set down at my computer to type. That's right. I thought I was Carrie Bradshaw.
I have another confession to make, now that I am almost at the bottom of my glass of wine. It's so tricky making confessions on my blog, now that I know my family members, and a smattering of important work collegues read this thing. But you know me....boundaries are for sissies.
You should know that my mood and self-worth are directly correlated to how often Heather and I do the dirty dancing. And of course by dirty dancing, I mean sex.
You see, as Heather has put it, I am like a teenage boy when it comes to sexy time. I could do it several times a day, every day....with Heather. This is honestly the first time in my life that I have been in a relationship that I wanted to have sex a lot. Usually, historically I should say, sex has been a "duty". But now, I just like it. And it's not about getting off, because let us be frank. I could do that in 60 seconds on my own if that was the case. It is about a connection. It is about a wanting and a desire. And really, its about feeling wanted and desired in return. And I suppose I could warrant some therapy sessions as it relates to this....my linking sex with love and desire. Because when I am thinking clearly, Heather shows me in so many ways that she loves me, wants me, and thinks I am as hot as [insert really hot person here]. But it boils down to this...because I want to jump her bones 99% of the time, I get my feelings hurt when she doesn't want to jump mine. And then I start to do...it. You know what I am talking about....
The negative self talk. And if there is one thing I am good at, it is talking shit to myself in my head. It's terrible and impressive all at the same time.
And so there you have it. And I know it sounds crazy when everything else in my life is awesome...that I let this one thing bring me down. And today is a good day because last night we talked about it at length, and then this morning....I got me a piece. But I know I need to work on my feelings about this on my side. I need to find clarity in moments of confusion.
So happy Saturday friends! I hope you find yourself with a nice bottle of wine or water (for those of you who are good and faithful bandsters), with the people you love, appreciating the good things in life.
Hugs and kisses until next time. Or until I drink a little more and then take naked pictures of myself or tell you about inappropriate dreams.
xoxo-your crazy Amy
Friday, October 21, 2011
It's Official: I Cannot Hit a Ball But I am Precious When I Try
Last night one of my worst fears was realized.
That's right. I actually had to play softball on Heather's co-ed slow pitch team.
I prepped her team. Tried to get them to really understand that I cannot hit the ball. They didn't believe me. I mean, in their defense, I LOOKED GOOD. I had my UnderArmor spandex on for God's sake. I had a fresh haircut. I was nonverbally screaming "Sexy Softball Player".
I was last in the line up. I was hoping for an improtu hurricane, an off season Kansas tornado in Florida. Something. ANYTHING.
I got up there to bat. I was literally shaking. You could see it from the dugout.
I took a deep breath. Winked at the pitcher (thought maybe it would help). And I promptly struck out.
I was welcomed back to the dugout with cheers and pats on the back. The guys and girls on the team were amazing. They weren't angry. I didn't poop my pants.
Next several times up to bat, I walked. Woo, that was close. I even almost made it to 3rd base once but ran too far past it, touched the line coach and got out for touching.
Yes. You can't touch the line coach. Huh. Or he can't touch you. Go figure I would get out in a softball game for inappropriate touching.
They named me MVP of the first game. I felt very loved. And very terrible at softball. I made friends with the ump at homeplate, chatted up cute fellas in the dugout. And never once did I feel like the FAT girl who couldnt play. I just felt like the silly cute girl who couldn't play.
That's progress huh? I think so.
That's right. I actually had to play softball on Heather's co-ed slow pitch team.
I prepped her team. Tried to get them to really understand that I cannot hit the ball. They didn't believe me. I mean, in their defense, I LOOKED GOOD. I had my UnderArmor spandex on for God's sake. I had a fresh haircut. I was nonverbally screaming "Sexy Softball Player".
I was last in the line up. I was hoping for an improtu hurricane, an off season Kansas tornado in Florida. Something. ANYTHING.
I got up there to bat. I was literally shaking. You could see it from the dugout.
I took a deep breath. Winked at the pitcher (thought maybe it would help). And I promptly struck out.
I was welcomed back to the dugout with cheers and pats on the back. The guys and girls on the team were amazing. They weren't angry. I didn't poop my pants.
Next several times up to bat, I walked. Woo, that was close. I even almost made it to 3rd base once but ran too far past it, touched the line coach and got out for touching.
Yes. You can't touch the line coach. Huh. Or he can't touch you. Go figure I would get out in a softball game for inappropriate touching.
They named me MVP of the first game. I felt very loved. And very terrible at softball. I made friends with the ump at homeplate, chatted up cute fellas in the dugout. And never once did I feel like the FAT girl who couldnt play. I just felt like the silly cute girl who couldn't play.
That's progress huh? I think so.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
The Lost Blogger & Butch Auto Body Shop
I have to tell you that sadly, I have not blogged in weeks. NOR have I read a blog in weeks. That would be a record for me. You know, the kind of record that is not a good thing. Like the record for the longest time you sat on the toilet, or the record amount of blackheads on your chin.
It's nothing to be proud of. And do you know WHY I have been a sadsack of a blogger? It's a 4 letter word.
W-O-R-K
Okay seriously. I will come clean with you and tell you that I have pretty much lived my life guided by the thought of those people who say "I am SO busy at work that I cant [fill in the blank] were full of horseshit.
I have always been like..."really? REALLY YOU ARE SO BUSY?"
Well it has happened to me. My coworker flew to the coup to become a flight attendant (pun points please), which left me alone to run and man the Education & Training department that used to be run by 3 people. Oh...I got a promotion. So now I am the manager of said department. Very exciting. Very draining. Because do you know what it means to be the only person in a department? That if something goes wrong....
there is no one else to blame.
And I have been spending these past few weeks cleaning, organizing, teaching, and doing my job plus the job of my lost coworker.
And funny thing is, now I have my very own laptop again so I could theoretically, blog from home once more (if you remember my computer was stolen last year).
But it also turns out that when you are so mentally and physically drained from work, you are a zombie when you get home.
The end. Those are my reason. I blog in my head almost everyday. I think of you guys. I think of actually typing my thoughts out...
and thanks to one Miss Dawnya Ivey I have returned. A little FB message was all it took.
During my hiatus, or blogging sabbatical, life has continued. I am actually a wreck on the inside of my head most days. My spirit is in a little bit of disarray and I can't really organize my thoughts or find my hopeful outlook as easy as I usually can. I blame this on the fact that work has my brain so scrambled, it doesn't leave much internal reflection time.
We went to Defuniak this weekend and I took a little four-wheel ride to the clay pit by myself and was literally talking out loud trying to figure things out. I am struggling with self worth. Most days I have to fight this feeling of worthlessness. These are usually the feelings that hit me 2 days or so before my period, and then scatter like dog peter flies in the wind for the remainder of the month. But they are sticking around.
I am sure that mentally things will start to find the upswing.
But. It's rough going for your girl.
I am still working out though. I certainly would have taken "a break" because I am "so busy" if not for Heather. So my weight is holding steady. That is a good thing.
Here is a picture from the weekend. Henry (Heather's cousin who we stay with everytime we go up to Defuniak...about an hour from where we live...and remember Henry is married to the wonderfully patient and kind 'other Heather') is restoring a car so we spent hours on Sunday cleaning parts that had something to do with the steering column or something.
See that purple power container? Well that's what we were using to remove years of gunk and grime. I say to Henry about 30 minutes into the cleaning project, "What do the instructions say about how long to leave it on".
Henry says "I dont know, I dont read instructions".
So I look at the back and before I can get to the instructions I see something that says "If this product comes in contact with the skin, seek medical help immediately, take your stupid ass to the emergency, you may die".
Or something real close. So that is why we are wearing gloves in the picture. A little too late as my hands have been peeling all week.
Oh silly instructions.
It's nothing to be proud of. And do you know WHY I have been a sadsack of a blogger? It's a 4 letter word.
W-O-R-K
Okay seriously. I will come clean with you and tell you that I have pretty much lived my life guided by the thought of those people who say "I am SO busy at work that I cant [fill in the blank] were full of horseshit.
I have always been like..."really? REALLY YOU ARE SO BUSY?"
Well it has happened to me. My coworker flew to the coup to become a flight attendant (pun points please), which left me alone to run and man the Education & Training department that used to be run by 3 people. Oh...I got a promotion. So now I am the manager of said department. Very exciting. Very draining. Because do you know what it means to be the only person in a department? That if something goes wrong....
there is no one else to blame.
And I have been spending these past few weeks cleaning, organizing, teaching, and doing my job plus the job of my lost coworker.
And funny thing is, now I have my very own laptop again so I could theoretically, blog from home once more (if you remember my computer was stolen last year).
But it also turns out that when you are so mentally and physically drained from work, you are a zombie when you get home.
The end. Those are my reason. I blog in my head almost everyday. I think of you guys. I think of actually typing my thoughts out...
and thanks to one Miss Dawnya Ivey I have returned. A little FB message was all it took.
During my hiatus, or blogging sabbatical, life has continued. I am actually a wreck on the inside of my head most days. My spirit is in a little bit of disarray and I can't really organize my thoughts or find my hopeful outlook as easy as I usually can. I blame this on the fact that work has my brain so scrambled, it doesn't leave much internal reflection time.
We went to Defuniak this weekend and I took a little four-wheel ride to the clay pit by myself and was literally talking out loud trying to figure things out. I am struggling with self worth. Most days I have to fight this feeling of worthlessness. These are usually the feelings that hit me 2 days or so before my period, and then scatter like dog peter flies in the wind for the remainder of the month. But they are sticking around.
I am sure that mentally things will start to find the upswing.
But. It's rough going for your girl.
I am still working out though. I certainly would have taken "a break" because I am "so busy" if not for Heather. So my weight is holding steady. That is a good thing.
Here is a picture from the weekend. Henry (Heather's cousin who we stay with everytime we go up to Defuniak...about an hour from where we live...and remember Henry is married to the wonderfully patient and kind 'other Heather') is restoring a car so we spent hours on Sunday cleaning parts that had something to do with the steering column or something.
Henry says "I dont know, I dont read instructions".
So I look at the back and before I can get to the instructions I see something that says "If this product comes in contact with the skin, seek medical help immediately, take your stupid ass to the emergency, you may die".
Or something real close. So that is why we are wearing gloves in the picture. A little too late as my hands have been peeling all week.
Oh silly instructions.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Amy's Got A Gun
While a good number of you were living like high class ladies (well, perhaps...not ladies, bc I have seen some pictures that may indicate otherwise) in Chicago, I was hunting birds. That's right. I am a bird hunter. It's dove season. Poor little symbols of peace. Not to fear though...only one dove lost it's life due to my hunting prowess, and yes...I ate it for dinner. I will go out on a limb (bahaha....bird pun) and say that many of you have not eaten dove...because I had not ever partaken myself. Well, it's a lot of work to shoot those suckers, and you only can eat the breast, which is about 2 ounces...maybe. And it's kinda gamey. So, I won't be shooting said doves anymore. Because I hunt to eat people....mmmkay? In fact, this pretty little bovine below was just about 5 feet from me most of the time, giving me the stink eye...and I decided I would rather be a cow hunter or chicken hunter...because at least I could ENJOY the food part.
That's me. Don't I look like an official hunter?
Heather and her dad....Rusty. Heather is blind as a bat these days, and refuses to get her eyes checked...so she spent most of the time shooting clouds. Or butterflies that she thought were birds.
It was a great weekend. We havent been to Defuniak since early June bc we have been busy, or they have been busy, or we have been broke, or out of town. But now that hunting season is starting, and we are armed...and because we missed them so much...we are going to be up there more often.
To get my hunting license, I have to take a hunting course....that children can take as well. that will be good fun! I get to shoot a shotgun, a rifle, a hand gun and a bow and arrow! You guys wanna come?
I had to stay off facebook this weekend as much as possible because all the Chicago updates were killin me. Killing me smalls. Maybe next year. Or why dont you all come and visit me? Sounds good.
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