Phat to Fabulous!
04 October 2011
RELOCATED
http://phattofabulous.wordpress.com/
Hope to see you on the other side.
26 September 2011
49 days...
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| Sexy...kind of? |
All of this has erupted into a number of emotions I am not sure I have the ability to classify properly. I am excited and so ready for a change, but still very much freaked out at the prospect of this all. (No worries, not freaked out enough to change my mind, but freaked out nonetheless.) I told someone the other day, I am not scared of the anesthesia, or getting cut open (had 2 c-sections, been there, done that), I am the most freaked out about extra skin. It sounds vain, but dammit I would prefer to only have one stomach, arms with no wings and knee caps that don't appear to be able to hold a conversation without my help when all of this is done. That means one thing, I need to get back in the gym full force now, no more half assed walks, etc. If I can do that, then hopefully this whole process will be that much better.
I have 49 days, I should probably get on that, eh?
16 July 2011
Appt 4
29 June 2011
Two-hundred and sixty-two
Two-hundred and sixty-two...
Two-hundred and sixty-two is the number that finally put me over the edge...the number that finally made me decide that this isn't a game...the number that made me realize that the only person buying my bullshit facade is me.
To get to that number you have to take a heavy dose of denial, a pinch of tears, a handful of courage, a little bit of coward, and a whole lot of stress.
In that number, is a girl who has always had issues with body image, even when she was a size 8, thinking she was fat, since all of her friends were a size 2.
In that number, is a girl who focuses on the things she can make "pretty" her face, her hair, the materialistic things that can distract from the obvious that makes her so unhappy.
In that number, is the stress of an over-achieving corporate sharecropper that never feels her best is good enough to be acknowledged, because it is always the wrong time, she has the wrong private parts or she is a little too tanned to be deemed acceptable.
In that number, is a child that misses the familiar laughter of a mother who might not remember her tomorrow.
In that number, is the wife that always tries to give a face of a solid family and household knowing that if her fat ass decided to try to walk on that string it would give and the whole pretty picture would come tumbling down in a heart beat.
In that number, is a mom who never feels that she lives up to her kids needs or wants, but proudly wears her mom of the century badge on her sleeve.
In that number, is a wife who understands her husband's need for affection, but has no clue how to let him love what she can't - herself.
In that number, is a woman who is done.
Done trying one last time, done looking for the new quick fix, done with not handling the things, done with high blood pressure, done with back pain, done with aches, just DONE.
Two-hundred and sixty-two, was the weight I was the day I made the decision to once in for all do something to save my own life and stop waiting for someone else to do it for me. This blog is being revisited, recreated, revived to help me adjust to taking that path for what I hope is the last time. Hopefully, this will be a good way for me to get some of my issues (no way in hell I handle all of them) out and in the open as I venture down this journey, as I have made the decision to have gastric bypass surgery. I am not writing this blog for someone to try to change my mind and give me your opinion on what I should or shouldn't do, this is not your cross to bear, this is mine, hopefully you can respect that and offer the love and support that I will most definitely need on this journey.
~L
Labels: bypass, daughter, gastric, mom, mother, stress, weight, wife
05 June 2007
She Lives...
New Blog is up, I just couldn't stay away!
The Idle Mind of the Mojito Mami
Stop on over, have a drink with me.
20 December 2006
Christmas eating tips
1. Avoid carrot sticks. Anyone who puts carrots on a holiday buffet table knows nothing of the Christmas spirit. In fact, if you see carrots, leave immediately. Go next door, where they're serving rum balls. Until next time....Holla at ya girl! |
17 December 2006
Thanks, V'ron!
1. I have a st
range unnamed phobia. I cannot and will not take any food or beverage type of item into a bathroom. I don't really have a problem with toothbrushes and a gargle cup being in the bathroom, but that's about it. If I am at the mall and I have a cup of something from the food court, I have been known to throw it away if there is no one with me to hold it while I am in there. Not that you will find me in a public restroom too often, since I am pretty sure I have a phobia of those as well. It's weird I know. My youngest little germ bucket will walk into the bathroom with a cup or an apple and I just about flip out. Its bad, I am dealing with it.
2. I live in Packer-land and shhhh...this one's a secret. I HATE THE PACKERS! Maybe I have shared this before, if so oh well. I love football and many other sports, but I hate the Packers. Maybe my hatred of them stems from my love for the Cowboys, Redskins and Ravens. Not sure, not that there is any real rivalry there. Its not like I am a Vikings or Bears fan or something. I honestly hate the fact that in this state if Brett Favre farts they burst into the news with a breaking news bulletin as though it was something important like our president discovering that there really is a Santa Claus. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind certain players for the Packers...Donald Driver, Ahman Green, even Brett himself, just hate the brainwashed mentality of cheeseheads, including my husband and most of his friends.
had a heart attack when she found out what had happened that day at school, had to call my grandmother who still acted like I was 6 to warn her that her little girl was no longer, on the bus to come to DC that weekend was a woman. What does this have to do with my foot and Danny Glover...I'm getting there hold your horses. So I get to DC, spend time with my grandmother and cousin and Saturday afternoon was the HU Bisons' homecoming game against FAMU if I recall correctly. So a little before half time I decide that I need some refreshments. My other cousin and I decide to head to the concession stand and as we come around the corner under the stands this rather large black man steps on my foot. I turn around rather annoyed because he didn't just step on my toe, but my whole daggone foot. As I turn around, I know that man, yep it was Danny Glover. I think his daughter was going to Howard at the time. I don't really recall, all I know is that I was annoyed with the fact that not only was my pinky hurting but that rather large man stepped on my daggone foot and made it hurt too.
tly liked the color. I am not sure what I was thinking, I think out of the trauma of it all I have stripped my memory of any recollection of that period. However when my mom was engaged to be married to my stepfather, they both sold their respective homes to buy one together. When we moved I got to pick the color scheme for my room. For some God unknown reason, I picked a pink paint and rose colored bed set for my room. I am not sure what caused the complete and total lack of judgement on my part. It was in my pre-teen days that this occurred, so any corrupt activity that I may have participated in would not have yet had an effect on me to lead to this. I am happy to report that as I have not lived in my parent's house for about 10 years, that my little brother has since taken claim to my old bedroom and has rightfully had it repainted blue. Smart kid that baby brother of mine!
5. I know how to Flamenco. Strange, I know you were all expecting me to admit something like I am secretly a Russian spy named Oksana Chukovskaya. However, my love for dancing and music really has no boundaries. When I was a senior in high school, we used to have this thing called Multi-Cultural day. As part of the Accelerated Spanish class, I took part in a performance of Flamenco dance which we had practiced all semester. To please the crowd, who we were sure would fall asleep at some part in the 3m 49s song, we decided that the finale to our performance would be the ever popular Macarena. Don't ask. Its something I am still trying to live down. Fortunately, I don't think that there remains any documentation of this unless one of my old classmates ever finds the picture she has of the two of us performing. God I hope she never finds that picture.




