Skip to main content

Next Stop: The Boston Marathon! Or maybe just some Slimfast.

Once upon a time I looked like this:

Which is to say, in shape and thin. (I had better pictures, but they just kinda sorta just made me look like a bar whore - no matter how hard I tried to photoshop the shot glasses out of the pictures and replace them with bible clip art.)

Then I met Big V and we got engaged. And pregnant. Except, by we I mean just I got pregnant and ended up looking like this:

Now, 21 months after I gave birth I look like this:

Like I'm going to show you my stomach. Not. A. Chance.

And now THIS has happened:

What is this, you ask? This is 65 of my used-to-fit-me shirts that are now being asked to leave my closet. Yes, sixty five. Including my super-duper all time favorite Woods Tree Farm long sleeved t-shirt. If I had a dollar for each shirt that no longer fits me due to girth restraints I could go out and buy me something like this:

Also, I just want you to know that so far today I have had one can of Diet Dr. Pepper, one Kit-Kat bar, one Twix bar, one Snickers bar, one Milky Way bar, one Crunch bar and one Oreo Dipped Delight Bar. I think I may have a problem.

Also, my teeth hurt.


HeatherB said…
Enjoy life! When we die, I am pretty sure we will not be laying on our death bed saying. "I wish I would have ran that triathlon, or jogged everyday."

Life is too precious (and delicious) to worry about running around.

You may have a chocolate addiction though - and it sounds like a pretty pricey problem. I would hate for you to not be able to pay for your bathroom remodel because you are bingeing on chocolate bars. :)

(And the idea that men will be working in your bathroom and may catch you in stages of nakedness, should further propel you to giving up the chocolate - just saying).
Johi said…
I feel your pain. I am sporting a super gut. I just saw pictures of myself and my stomach was protruding out more than my boobs. It was depressing. I can home and ate some chocolate.
Becca said…
Food is yummy. I'm going to name my tummy and wear midriff baring shirts. Maybe I'll even be on People of Walmart. Care to join me?
Phoenix Rising said…
I want you all to come live with me. Like in a commune - but not like a cult because I'm scared of those. But we can collect eggs and think about riding bikes and we can make each other laugh. I'll even share my candy bars and muu-muus!
Ellen said…
I tend to hide the stuff that won't fit (not as many as you have however) and hope that the next season they will fit. Because I save the small size stuff and toss any baggy stuff. If I catch myself looking awful (even if it fits) it is gone...adios!

I have capris that are too snug this summer...I want to wear them...but not will muffin top. So I bought two new pairs...not wild about that. Trying to eat less than before and still eat healthy. Trying to work out with the walking at least 3x a week...trying.
Just drink coffee. Since I started, but chocolate intake has cut way down. Although, if I run out of coffee and I see someone with a Snickers, I may attack.... maybe somewhat like Teddy Roosevelt.

Popular posts from this blog

The House that God Built

in·stan·ta·ne·ous /ˌinstənˈtānēəs/ adjective 1. occurring or done in an instant or instantly.
synonyms: immediate, instant, on-the-spot

The thing is, she died so sudden.
I didn't have the chance to plead with God, to make all the irrational promises. If he would just let her be okay.... I would start taking better care of my health. I would be nicer to the neighbor that drove me crazy. I would always let someone else go in front of me at Walmart no matter how long the line was. I wouldn't complain. Ever. I would volunteer at the Homeless Shelter. I would clean up after pigs. I would clip the toenails of the elderly. I would do anything and everything He would ask me to do....
There is a box on her death certificate that captures the amount of time between the initial injury and the time of death. It reads "seconds." I wish it read "instantaneous" because she deserves a clever word like that.
Fast forward five years.... definitely taking MUCH longer than "…

Seeing Avery All Grown Up

One day I'll tell you about the freezing cold we left and the heavy bags we lugged, full of supplies and medicines. I'll tell you about arriving in Port au Prince and walking across a cracked concrete parking lot to board an old school bus with a flat tire. How the heat was suffocating after months of below zero Wisconsin winter weather, how the people crowded and walked too close to moving traffic as we searched for a tire shop that was barely more than a couple men sitting on overturned 5-gallon buckets on the side of the road next to a pile of old tires, everything covered in dirt.

I'll tell you about waiting on the bus while they removed the tire and I'll recall the loud explosion that rocked the bus and scared the life out of me and how I was relieved to learn it was just the tire blowing after being filled too far. (They didn't have any gauges.) And then I'll tell you about the fear I felt when I realized we didn't have a tire and we were stuck on th…

When Your Imagined Life is Nothing Like This One

There were so many ways I imagined my adult life would be....THIS is not one of them.
I posted that on my Facebook wall last night. It might have been seen as funny except my choice of hashtags gave me away:
treading water getting nowhere piles of disappointment not many successes worn out and exhausted out of options

I always imagined my life would be thrilling. Full of exciting adventures and people from all over the world. I would dine at Ethiopian, Thai, and Indian restaurants. I would write books, teach English, coach forensics and direct the play. My husband would be charming and funny and not care about gender roles when it came to household chores. He would beg for at least six kids and I would fall in love with him all over again each time I caught him giving good life advice.
I would take photographs and travel the world documenting the people I came across. I would adopt a sibling group of three or maybe four and work on foster care policies because the ones we have aren't work…