I love to shop. It's very enjoyable to me, theraputic if you will... but not when I'm listening to this:
"Are we done yet?"
"Can I get that?"
"I want one!"
"I want a snack!"
"Can we go now?"
"I have to pee!"
I had like a million errands to run today and my lovely children got dragged around with me. Before I left on my adventure I was explaining my errands over the phone to my sister-in-law, and one errand in particular caught her attention: I explained that I needed to buy a new bra, and how much I was looking forward to it with my two children in tow! She then asked what I planned on doing with Jake (my 5 year old) while I was stripping down to my all-together and trying bras on.
I had to think about this for a minute... I no longer change in front of him at home, but the thought about not being able to easily change in a dressing room while the kids played at my feet never occured to me before. It was a valid point: when does it become inappropriate for my son to see me naked? When does it cross the line? I reached the conclusion that when he became old enough to start asking questions and pointing and staring (around the age of 4), that that was the end of it.
So my solution to the problem? "Close your eyes and cover them with your hands, please!" It worked like a charm. He thought it was a fun game, and I hurriedly rushed through bra after bra trying to make a snap decision, constantly in fear that he would unexpectedly open his eyes and gain a "peep show". I quickly snapped it in front, whirled it around, adjusted the girls, bent and shook, stood and removed. Over and over, through about 6 bras.
I ended up buying one... I think it fit... I think it's the right size... thanks to Mervyn's sales it was only $15, but more importantly the only skin I think Jake saw was the palms of his hands.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Skinny
I was in the Gap outlet today and was looking for some stylish capri pants for my sister, because she needed something to wear to an upcoming photo session... I found some really great capri pants, tried them on myself in a size 6, and found they fit very well. Not baggy, but no stomach bubbling over the top either. We had a winner!
The difference between her and me is that my thighs and butt are much more "cellulite-y" than hers. So when I tried these capri's on, they fit very well, but they're the type of pant that you really need to wear a thong with and I wasn't comfortable showing the world that many dimples... so I passed on them for me.
But I called her up and told her about them and she was thrilled. "Should I get a 4 or a 2?" she was asking me. I explained my cottage cheese issues and convinced her that she didn't have that particular problem, all the while other shoppers were staring at me while I was talking. Yeah, right, like the woman grabbing an XXL doesn't have cottage cheese problems... puh-lease.
Back and forth we went over the great debate between a size 4 and a 2. I mentally sighed and told myself,"If she asks about a size zero I'm hanging up on her." I had to admit when I was holding the 4 and 2 pants, I felt a little guilty like I had no business touching them. I was lucky enough to squeeze my large "backseat" into a size 6, which we all know would be an 8 at any other store. I felt like the woman with the XXL was watching me, judging my thighs versus the size on the hanger. I was finally able to make it out the store with the zero's left on the rack... along with some of my dignity.
The difference between her and me is that my thighs and butt are much more "cellulite-y" than hers. So when I tried these capri's on, they fit very well, but they're the type of pant that you really need to wear a thong with and I wasn't comfortable showing the world that many dimples... so I passed on them for me.
But I called her up and told her about them and she was thrilled. "Should I get a 4 or a 2?" she was asking me. I explained my cottage cheese issues and convinced her that she didn't have that particular problem, all the while other shoppers were staring at me while I was talking. Yeah, right, like the woman grabbing an XXL doesn't have cottage cheese problems... puh-lease.
Back and forth we went over the great debate between a size 4 and a 2. I mentally sighed and told myself,"If she asks about a size zero I'm hanging up on her." I had to admit when I was holding the 4 and 2 pants, I felt a little guilty like I had no business touching them. I was lucky enough to squeeze my large "backseat" into a size 6, which we all know would be an 8 at any other store. I felt like the woman with the XXL was watching me, judging my thighs versus the size on the hanger. I was finally able to make it out the store with the zero's left on the rack... along with some of my dignity.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Dooney
Before I tell my Dooney story, here's a little background for those of you who don't know my son very well:
When Ben was about one years old he started vomiting A LOT, especially during a mealtime or right after it. Not to be gross, but we're not talking about a little spit up, we're talking the whole nine yards. Sometimes I was blessed to clean it up in the car, or in his bed, on my couch, or all over my carpet. He almost never got sick on the kitchen tile floor or in our laminate floored hallway... no, never in a place that could be mopped up easily. And it happened once a day, sometimes twice a day, for four or five days a week. Obviously I took him to the doctor and we discovered he has: 1) acid reflux, and 2) an underdeveloped esophagus muscle that doesn't always contract correctly to bring the food into the stomach. I was told this would go away with time, once his stomach and esophagus muscles were strengthened and had grown bigger.
After several more trips to the doctor, and several months of vomit later, we figured out if we fed him small portions, allowing him to get up and leave the table when he wanted (while also feeding him standing up to allow for a clearer passage) that it helped to control the vomit situation. So this is what we did for several months. Right around January of this year (when he turned 2) he stopped vomiting, and we've been vomit free for about 5 1/2 months! Yay!
...Until the past couple of weeks...
Only the difference now is he can communicate a little better since he's older and he motions to his mouth when he is about to get sick. So now on to the funny part of this disgusting story (I'm really sorry if you were eating during all this and now can't digest your snack)...
We were in Carls Jr. today sitting in a booth, and next to me was Ben, across from me was my Mom and next to her was Jake. Well, in the middle of our lunch Ben stops and puts down his nugget... and so I stopped eating to watch him carefully. Sure enough he looked at me with his huge eyes and pale cheeks and pointed to his mouth and said, "Sick!" Now any normal Mother would probably say something soothing to him, stroke his back, tell him to take deep breaths... not me. I knew what was coming! I yanked my $300 Dooney and Bourke bag away from its spot on the bench between myself and Ben, dumped it on the floor and scooted it under the table toward my Mom. Then I eyed Ben suspiciously, and while I hurriedly lifted him out of the bench I paused at the edge of the table thinking he was about to show us his lunch right then and there, I glanced down at my bag and back at Ben... bag, Ben, bag, Ben... and realized if he got sick on the floor it could splatter onto, or worse, into my bag. Thinking only of myself, I kicked my bag further beneath the table and ran with Ben to the bathroom. Luckily we made it just in time.
We came back, resumed our eating and I gingerly picked up my Dooney and brushed off the lint particles it had accumulated. I looked at my Mom and said, "How do you like that? My son is about to get sick and all I could think about was 'please don't get sick on my $300 Dooney'. How ridiculous am I?!" She started laughing at me and then I started laughing at me, and while the boys finished their lunch I gingerly tucked my Dooney up against my side, back in its rightful place.
When Ben was about one years old he started vomiting A LOT, especially during a mealtime or right after it. Not to be gross, but we're not talking about a little spit up, we're talking the whole nine yards. Sometimes I was blessed to clean it up in the car, or in his bed, on my couch, or all over my carpet. He almost never got sick on the kitchen tile floor or in our laminate floored hallway... no, never in a place that could be mopped up easily. And it happened once a day, sometimes twice a day, for four or five days a week. Obviously I took him to the doctor and we discovered he has: 1) acid reflux, and 2) an underdeveloped esophagus muscle that doesn't always contract correctly to bring the food into the stomach. I was told this would go away with time, once his stomach and esophagus muscles were strengthened and had grown bigger.
After several more trips to the doctor, and several months of vomit later, we figured out if we fed him small portions, allowing him to get up and leave the table when he wanted (while also feeding him standing up to allow for a clearer passage) that it helped to control the vomit situation. So this is what we did for several months. Right around January of this year (when he turned 2) he stopped vomiting, and we've been vomit free for about 5 1/2 months! Yay!
...Until the past couple of weeks...
Only the difference now is he can communicate a little better since he's older and he motions to his mouth when he is about to get sick. So now on to the funny part of this disgusting story (I'm really sorry if you were eating during all this and now can't digest your snack)...
We were in Carls Jr. today sitting in a booth, and next to me was Ben, across from me was my Mom and next to her was Jake. Well, in the middle of our lunch Ben stops and puts down his nugget... and so I stopped eating to watch him carefully. Sure enough he looked at me with his huge eyes and pale cheeks and pointed to his mouth and said, "Sick!" Now any normal Mother would probably say something soothing to him, stroke his back, tell him to take deep breaths... not me. I knew what was coming! I yanked my $300 Dooney and Bourke bag away from its spot on the bench between myself and Ben, dumped it on the floor and scooted it under the table toward my Mom. Then I eyed Ben suspiciously, and while I hurriedly lifted him out of the bench I paused at the edge of the table thinking he was about to show us his lunch right then and there, I glanced down at my bag and back at Ben... bag, Ben, bag, Ben... and realized if he got sick on the floor it could splatter onto, or worse, into my bag. Thinking only of myself, I kicked my bag further beneath the table and ran with Ben to the bathroom. Luckily we made it just in time.
We came back, resumed our eating and I gingerly picked up my Dooney and brushed off the lint particles it had accumulated. I looked at my Mom and said, "How do you like that? My son is about to get sick and all I could think about was 'please don't get sick on my $300 Dooney'. How ridiculous am I?!" She started laughing at me and then I started laughing at me, and while the boys finished their lunch I gingerly tucked my Dooney up against my side, back in its rightful place.
Results
This morning I went to Curves and got weighed and measured. *rolls eyes* There was hardly any change AT ALL with my body. Like it isn't embarrasing enough to get weighed and measured the first time, but to come back six weeks later, after working out 4-5 days a week, and I gained two pounds!! The only success I had was losing one inch in my hips (yay!) and a half-inch in my thighs (I think she was just being kind).
The first thing they did was weigh me, and the trainer kept saying, "hunh" under her breath, like she couldn't believe I was gaining instead of losing. She actually started over at one point and re-weighed me. I told her, "It was right the first time, I'm just fat I guess. Let's move on..."
Then that girl needed to take a phone call so another woman stepped in to do all my measurements. I swear every time she measured something she would check her chart and say, "hmm", because nothing had changed! Arms: exact same, "hmm". Waist: exact same, "hmm". The hip measurement and results were exciting, but then she kind of killed it by saying, "There you go! There's a little progress. These past six weeks didn't go entirely to waste!" *rolls eyes* Basically I could have saved my $40 for the month and layed off the soda for a couple of weeks and probably gotten the same results. And my half-inch off my thighs... well let's just say that was the absolute last thing she measured and I'm pretty sure it was a pity half-inch. After this I'm definately going to have to step up the diet and exercise at home, too! *groan*
The first thing they did was weigh me, and the trainer kept saying, "hunh" under her breath, like she couldn't believe I was gaining instead of losing. She actually started over at one point and re-weighed me. I told her, "It was right the first time, I'm just fat I guess. Let's move on..."
Then that girl needed to take a phone call so another woman stepped in to do all my measurements. I swear every time she measured something she would check her chart and say, "hmm", because nothing had changed! Arms: exact same, "hmm". Waist: exact same, "hmm". The hip measurement and results were exciting, but then she kind of killed it by saying, "There you go! There's a little progress. These past six weeks didn't go entirely to waste!" *rolls eyes* Basically I could have saved my $40 for the month and layed off the soda for a couple of weeks and probably gotten the same results. And my half-inch off my thighs... well let's just say that was the absolute last thing she measured and I'm pretty sure it was a pity half-inch. After this I'm definately going to have to step up the diet and exercise at home, too! *groan*
Monday, June 16, 2008
Tie Continued...
Read the "Tie" post first and this one will make more sense after...
Before everyone gets all judgemental on my Hubby for him not being the world champion of ties, you have to understand where he comes from:
When I first met Hubby, and while we were dating and engaged, he was a driver for a liquor distribution company (Charming career, huh? Sorry ladies, he's taken!) and his daily attire consisted of jeans and a tee-shirt. And then he acquired a job with the Department of Defense at our local Air Force Base (where he's also serves our Country as a Reservist) and again, his dress code was extremely casual. He actually has two types of jeans in his closet: work jeans (faded, stained, holey) and going-out jeans (darker in color, more expensive).
We rarely have an occasion to dress up, even our Church is pretty casual, so for Hubby tying a tie hasn't always been an obligation or a priority. I can even remember a wedding we went to years back where we were having a tie-tying dilema and so I told him, "Just wear your button down shirt open at the collar. It's all the rage!" He looked great, and to my satisfaction there were a few other men at that wedding with the same open collar outfit. Kudos to me!
So when you read the "Tie" post have a little compassion and understanding.
Before everyone gets all judgemental on my Hubby for him not being the world champion of ties, you have to understand where he comes from:
When I first met Hubby, and while we were dating and engaged, he was a driver for a liquor distribution company (Charming career, huh? Sorry ladies, he's taken!) and his daily attire consisted of jeans and a tee-shirt. And then he acquired a job with the Department of Defense at our local Air Force Base (where he's also serves our Country as a Reservist) and again, his dress code was extremely casual. He actually has two types of jeans in his closet: work jeans (faded, stained, holey) and going-out jeans (darker in color, more expensive).
We rarely have an occasion to dress up, even our Church is pretty casual, so for Hubby tying a tie hasn't always been an obligation or a priority. I can even remember a wedding we went to years back where we were having a tie-tying dilema and so I told him, "Just wear your button down shirt open at the collar. It's all the rage!" He looked great, and to my satisfaction there were a few other men at that wedding with the same open collar outfit. Kudos to me!
So when you read the "Tie" post have a little compassion and understanding.
Tie
This morning my Hubby had an important meeting to go to at 9:30. This was the kind of meeting that required a leather binder-folder, a resume, a list of questions, a fresh hair cut, and a suit and tie.
Yesterday he laid out his suit and tried on the pants to make sure everything still fit *rolls eyes*, and in doing so decided that he needed a new "power" tie. So off to Ross I went, which is the best place to go for stuff like this. I got him a Calvin Klein tie for $12.99 which was "compared to $40.00" originally.
Then later in the evening I "cut his hair" (all three pieces) and he trimmed up his goatee and sideburns all nice and clean. Also last night I threw out the suggestion of "typing up a resume", which he thought was a good idea but that it could wait until the morning to be done. Fine by me because my all-time favorite movie was on cable, While You Were Sleeping, and I happily hunkered into bed to watch it.
So here we are this morning and Hubby's running around frantic ironing his shirt, trying grab a bite to eat, yelling different suggestive phrases at me for his resume which was still un-typed, trimming nose hairs or whatever it is guys actually do in the bathroom... meanwhile the kids and I are huddled in the corner of the living room trying to stay out of the way. Then the house falls silent for a few moments so I peek around the corner and find hubby mesmorized by the glow of our computer screen. Curious, I sneak up behind him and realize he's located a website with instructions on how to tie a tie. So after a few failed attempts, he starts to get a little frustrated and I gingerly step in and tell him to go do something else to get ready, and I'll take care of the tie.
After about twenty minutes and fifteen different tries and tying this stupid thing I realize Hubby is watching me. "Just lay it on the back of the chair and I'll do it later. I don't want it to get wrinkled." ...he tells me. So I moved on to typing the finishing touches on his resume and printing out some various papers he needs done.
A little bit later I find him again in front of the computer trying to tie the tie, this time fully clothed with his button down shirt and slacks in place. It took the two of us another fifteen minutes, with three trips to the bathroom to try tying it in front of a mirror, to get it completely tied. The problem: Hubby is rather tall and the tie came to just above his belly button (about 6" north then it should have been). So off it came and back to the drawing board we went. I looked at him at one point and said, "We're two very capable, grown adults, and this is a piece of skinny fabric. How is this not working??" To which he replied, "You better not blog this. I'm serious, I don't want to see this online." Which caught me off guard and made me laugh hysterically and all the while I'm thinking, "Yeah right! This is a blogger's dream!" But I settle for telling him, "You realize there's no way I'm going to be able to keep my mouth shut about this..."
Needless to say, he was out the door, tie fixed appropriately and all, at 9:15. I shut the computer off and tried to start my morning. Then Hubby calls me at 9:25 to say, "I'm at the wrong place. Look it up online for the right address!" So I have to wait for the computer to re-boot so I can find the correct address. He turned out to have a great meeting, but good grief! If he starts wearing a tie on a day-to-day basis I think I might develop an ulcer.
Yesterday he laid out his suit and tried on the pants to make sure everything still fit *rolls eyes*, and in doing so decided that he needed a new "power" tie. So off to Ross I went, which is the best place to go for stuff like this. I got him a Calvin Klein tie for $12.99 which was "compared to $40.00" originally.
Then later in the evening I "cut his hair" (all three pieces) and he trimmed up his goatee and sideburns all nice and clean. Also last night I threw out the suggestion of "typing up a resume", which he thought was a good idea but that it could wait until the morning to be done. Fine by me because my all-time favorite movie was on cable, While You Were Sleeping, and I happily hunkered into bed to watch it.
So here we are this morning and Hubby's running around frantic ironing his shirt, trying grab a bite to eat, yelling different suggestive phrases at me for his resume which was still un-typed, trimming nose hairs or whatever it is guys actually do in the bathroom... meanwhile the kids and I are huddled in the corner of the living room trying to stay out of the way. Then the house falls silent for a few moments so I peek around the corner and find hubby mesmorized by the glow of our computer screen. Curious, I sneak up behind him and realize he's located a website with instructions on how to tie a tie. So after a few failed attempts, he starts to get a little frustrated and I gingerly step in and tell him to go do something else to get ready, and I'll take care of the tie.
After about twenty minutes and fifteen different tries and tying this stupid thing I realize Hubby is watching me. "Just lay it on the back of the chair and I'll do it later. I don't want it to get wrinkled." ...he tells me. So I moved on to typing the finishing touches on his resume and printing out some various papers he needs done.
A little bit later I find him again in front of the computer trying to tie the tie, this time fully clothed with his button down shirt and slacks in place. It took the two of us another fifteen minutes, with three trips to the bathroom to try tying it in front of a mirror, to get it completely tied. The problem: Hubby is rather tall and the tie came to just above his belly button (about 6" north then it should have been). So off it came and back to the drawing board we went. I looked at him at one point and said, "We're two very capable, grown adults, and this is a piece of skinny fabric. How is this not working??" To which he replied, "You better not blog this. I'm serious, I don't want to see this online." Which caught me off guard and made me laugh hysterically and all the while I'm thinking, "Yeah right! This is a blogger's dream!" But I settle for telling him, "You realize there's no way I'm going to be able to keep my mouth shut about this..."
Needless to say, he was out the door, tie fixed appropriately and all, at 9:15. I shut the computer off and tried to start my morning. Then Hubby calls me at 9:25 to say, "I'm at the wrong place. Look it up online for the right address!" So I have to wait for the computer to re-boot so I can find the correct address. He turned out to have a great meeting, but good grief! If he starts wearing a tie on a day-to-day basis I think I might develop an ulcer.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Weigh In
This Tuesday at Curves will be my weigh-in and measurement day. I'm as about excited for this as I would be to get a root canal done. My scale at home says I've gained weight, my pants and shorts still fit as tight as ever, and aside from being a little more tan on my arms and chest, my upper body hasn't changed much either.
I've been working out at Curves every week, about 4 or 5 days a week. I think that's pretty good (considering I hate working out) but if I don't see any results on Tuesday then I'm afraid I'm going to have to up the anty. I might consider doing some work-out videos at home several days a week too; then I can "Walk Away The Pounds" with Leslie Sansone and "walk" about 2 miles everyday in addition to my Curves exercising. *sigh* I'm very excited for this.
I guess it would help if I continued to watch what I ate. I was exhausted yesterday from having a hard, tiring, week and so we ordered take-out from Round Table. OH MY GOODNESS, I could have eaten the entire large pizza... it tasted that good to me. If it wasn't for Jacob asking, "Are we going to save some for Daddy?" as I was hovered over my "cardboard" plate, I would've gone way past my limit on slices. Instead I gave him a sideways glance, sighed, and packaged up the remaining few pieces.
I've been working out at Curves every week, about 4 or 5 days a week. I think that's pretty good (considering I hate working out) but if I don't see any results on Tuesday then I'm afraid I'm going to have to up the anty. I might consider doing some work-out videos at home several days a week too; then I can "Walk Away The Pounds" with Leslie Sansone and "walk" about 2 miles everyday in addition to my Curves exercising. *sigh* I'm very excited for this.
I guess it would help if I continued to watch what I ate. I was exhausted yesterday from having a hard, tiring, week and so we ordered take-out from Round Table. OH MY GOODNESS, I could have eaten the entire large pizza... it tasted that good to me. If it wasn't for Jacob asking, "Are we going to save some for Daddy?" as I was hovered over my "cardboard" plate, I would've gone way past my limit on slices. Instead I gave him a sideways glance, sighed, and packaged up the remaining few pieces.
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