187

My weigh-ins have been irregular, and my weight has followed suit. Up to 189, down to 186. Up to 188, down to 187.6. I'm on a bit of a plateau, I think. To shake things up, I've started paying more attention to my carb/protein/fat ratio (shifting the emphasis to lean protein). And I've upped my water intake again.

I also figured out that work is not as much work as it was before, so I'm not burning as many calories as I thought. I work as a massage therapist, and while it's still physically demanding, my body has adjusted to it like any other exercise. So I can't give myself "extra" calories to eat on days that I work. I simply have to manage my consumption better to keep from getting insanely hungry after two massages.

In other news, I fit into my size 12 jeans yesterday. I was excited, but all of the extra skin on my abdomen (aka THE FLAP) makes them look not so hot. This big band of extra skin just hangs down, and when it's stuffed into my pants it borders on a "butt in the front." I'm going to try and be brave and post some belly pictures so y'all can see what I'm talking about. Or would that be gross? We'll see...

"Loft"y Goals

Hubs took the day off work today. Our original plan was to spend the day in the yard, cleaning up flower beds, planting, and such. But the weather did not agree with us. It was cold and rainy -- not ideal "let's get outside" weather. So what did we do? We decided to have a day date, and headed to the mall for window shopping and a movie.

At the mall, I pulled Hubs into one of my dream stores...Ann Taylor Loft. (Try not to laugh -- far beneath my tattooed, formerly punk-rock exterior lies a very preppy girl who would happily spend her days in a pencil skirt and a cardigan.) I have never, ever in my adult life been able to try on (let alone purchase) clothes from this store. It's always been out of my size range and my price range. But I love the clothes. They're simple, well made, and just...the kind of clothes I'd like to wear.

We walked around the store, and I pointed out things that I liked. A blouse, a dress, an outfit. It never crossed my mind to try anything on until I saw this jacket. I am an absolute sucker for a trench coat (maybe it's my inner flasher!), and I love dark denim. I saw the price tag ($98! What in the ham sandwich!) and quickly inventoried the rack to see what the largest size was. L. Large. Big sigh. There's no way, I thought. The trench I have at home is a XXL from Old Navy. There's no way a Large from Ann Taylor -- land of the teeny tiny ladies -- would even fit over my monster shoulders! But I decided to pull it off the hanger anyway, just for a laugh. Just to confirm what I already knew, that my big sausage arms and flabby belly wouldn't fit, that I'd end up looking like Chris Farley from that famous scene in "Tommy Boy."


"Fat man in a little coaaaat..."

But lo and behold! That doggone trench FIT. And not super tight, second skin, if I starve for a week and put on some Spanx "fit," I mean it ACTUALLY FIT. I was so excited. I knew we couldn't afford it, and it didn't even upset me that I couldn't have it. And the look on my husband's face...he was so happy for me, so proud of me.

Just knowing that jacket is hanging up in my dream store, and it fits me...that's enough. It's enough to know that my hard work is paying off, that all these years and months of struggling have gotten me so far, that the days when I'll be able to fit into EVERYTHING at Ann Taylor are not far away. It's enough.

GPOYW - Kissy Face!

My Best Guido - 2.24.2010

Gym. Tan. Laundry.

Oh, and that's a new shirt, from the REGULAR SIZE SECTION of OldNavy.com. No more plus sized shirts for me! Woo!

The Proof is in the...Pants?

At work the other day, I kept feeling something funny on my backside. I couldn't figure out what it was. It was a sort of tickle-y, swishy feeling -- really hard to describe. Then it dawned on me that what I was feeling was my back pockets rubbing against my (baggy) underpants. Do you know how long it's been since my pants were loose enough for that to happen? Oh, just about FOREVER. Usually, the pockets are squeezed so tight against my butt that I can't put anything in them. Now, I have swishy-pants.

As if that weren't enough good news, check THIS out. I was rummaging through my dresser yesterday, trying to find something to wear. At the bottom of my pants drawer were two pairs of size 16 jeans I'd ordered a few months ago. They didn't fit when I got them, but I put them aside and thought maybe I'd get into them by my birthday (January).

Since I had a little extra time, I decided to try them on. And guess what?

THEY FIT.

Now, I still have some serious muffin-top action going on, just from all the skin and pudge on my upper abdomen. But these jeans, they FIT. Like, I don't have to lay down on the floor to zip them. This means I'm down TWO SIZES since I started working out in earnest. TWO SIZES.

These two little things make me feel so motivated! I did a really long workout this morning (thank you, Hubs, for giving me the time to sleep in AND work out interrupted) and it felt awesome. I did 3.2 miles on the treadmill (mostly walking, but fast walking!) and then did weights (back & shoulders, legs) and abs (ohhhhhhhhhhhhh not fun). I wish I could do that kind of workout every day.

In other news...my left knee is still bothering me. It feels sort of like there's little elves jamming a big screwdriver under my patella and trying to wedge it out of place. This knee's been wobbly since my first and only skiing experience, wherein I twisted it about 90 degrees in the wrong direction. But until this past week of running, it hasn't bothered me. I think the impact of my 200+ pounds slamming down on it might be a little much for it to handle right now. I'm NOT worrying about it, though -- I can still walk, I can still lift -- and I'm NOT using it as an excuse to give up or back out of my 5K.

So HOORAY for progress and swishy-pants! Hooray for staying motivated! Hooray hooray HOORAY!

D-Day

I started noticing lately that my bras were getting very uncomfortable -- pinchy, straps falling down, and some double-boobing. (You know, when a bra doesn't fit right, the cup pinches across your boob and sort of cleaves it into two mini-boobs?) I attributed this to a few factors:

1. I buy cheap bras. I usually don't spend more than ten bucks on one.

2. I've lost a few pounds.

3. The bras I have are old, and (I know, horror of horrors) I PUT THEM IN THE WASHING MACHINE.

I mentioned this to my mom when we went shopping together on Saturday, so as we were walking through Dillard's, she suggested that I get a fitting done. Man, did I ever get a shock in that dressing room. No, the very nice salesgirl (and I do mean girl, I think she was about 17) did not grab my tatas, or shriek in horror when she saw what havoc babies wreak on formerly NICE tatas. No, my friends. The shock? My size. These things here? *points to chest* These "yard dogs"? THEY'VE GOTTEN BIGGER.

I sent a frantic text to my husband telling him my new size. His reply (and I'm not even making this up): "Yay! Boobies!" I laughed right as the salesgirl came back in the dressing room. She looked at me like I was nuts. I said, "I'm sorry. My inner 13 year old is just really excited about having officially big boobs."

So now here I sit, tatas comfortably cradled in the largest brassiere I've ever worn. It's extremely comfortable, but I'm a little scared that it might be mistaken for some sort of padding used to protect canteloupes during shipping.

Panty Raid

I've been holding on to a few pieces of maternity wear for too long now. They're so comfy; broken in, a little baggy. They accommodate my post-baby belly flap so nicely. Not my maternity jeans, or work pants, or even stretchy pants -- I'm talking about my underwear.

For about two years, I've been rocking these granny panties. You know, the ones that come all the way up to your bra and have leg holes that come down around mid-thigh? I was warned during my pregnancy that it'd be hard to let them go, these belly-warmers. But I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror a couple of weeks ago, and MAN. Me in huge underpants? DEFINITELY NOT BOOM BOOM SEXY TIME.

So, in hopes of feeling slightly better about how I look in my underroos, I decided to order some new ones and bid farewell to my grannies. I was tempted to have an official retirement ceremony and burn them, but Hubs told me the last thing he wanted was to have the fire department here putting out an underpants blaze. Because seriously, with my luck, I'd burn the damn house down.