Chrissy's real truth about life that no one will tell you.
"The best things in life are free.
Or available with a 50-90% discount on Groupon."
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Stripper Chick Wisdom
Chrissy's real truth about life that no one will tell you.
"The best things in life are free.
Or available with a 50-90% discount on Groupon."
Monday, January 23, 2012
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Secondhand Sunday
Sundays are my Secondhand day. I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I re-post a "vintage" entry.
If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.
"1 + 1 = 0"
Original Post Date, March 24, 2009
Let's talk about this whole cougar phenomenon. I don't know. Is it really a phenomenon? It looks like women have finally caught up to men in the "I look like an idiot dating someone 15 years younger than me" category. I suppose it was inevitable.
We make our own money, we own our own homes, we kill our own spiders. It was just a matter of time before we bought our own boyfriends.
Clarification, please. Do you have to be rich to be a cougah (it's so much more fun to say it that way, isn't it?) or do you just need to be old and horny for young boys?
I'm neither. So I guess I'm not a cougah. There have been two instances where I've dated (and I use the term "dated" very loosely) younger guys. The first one was 21 years old to my 29. He was a bartender at Shooter's Restaurant and he was cute as cute could be. He was a bodybuilder and had lots of tattoos. I'm 5'9, he was maybe 5'5. But did I mention how cute he was? He wasn't very bright, either, and one of my elitist friends said, "What could you possibly see in him? Don't you need intellectual stimulation?" I just laughed and told her that was what I had her for.
The second young'un was 21 years old when I was 34. I met him at a going away party that my friend's co-workers threw for her when she got a new job. He was pretty cute and he had a motorcycle. Well, I had never been on a motorcycle so we wandered outside the bar, took a ride on the bike and then sat down to talk.
Keep in mind: I'm 34, he's 21.
Me: "That was a fun ride. How fast were we going?"
Him: "I don't know, dude. Somewhere around 90 miles an hour."
Me: "Oh my."
chat....chat....chat....
Him: "You have a kick ass body, man!"
Me: "Why, thank you."
Him: "You rock!", pointing both fingers at me. Pow! Pow!
Me: "Thank you, again."
WHY I gave him my phone number is beyond me but I think we met for a drink once and he did call a few times. He was a truck driver and his cargo was usually clothing for the Gap or The Limited. He was sweet enough to offer to steal some clothing for me if I gave him my size but I was torn between telling him my size and reporting him to the authorities.
Needless to say, that relationship didn't work out.
I just can't imagine dating someone that much younger now and I don't understand why women do it. I suppose it's the ego boost. We do it because we can. We don't look like our mothers looked when they were our age. I'm trying to picture what I would look like in one of my mother's housecoats and it's not pretty, although the front snaps would make for easy access.
I can't imagine it's the sex, either. Maybe we just think we look younger standing next to some hot young thing. It's probably what Donald Trump and Bruce Willis think.
I thought I might look younger standing next to someone older so I went out with a 50 year old a few weeks ago. He was very nice, very articulate and very polite. Throughout the course of the night, he alluded to how great it would be to have someone to go to church and/or Bible study with.
Now if you've read at least three of my posts, you've probably figured out that I'm not the girl for him and I told him so. He brushed it off and asked me if I would like to out again. Sure, I say, let's do this again as he kissed me on the cheek.
I almost wanted to take his hands and put them on my boobs. Lively banter, gentlemanly behavior...what kind of dating twilight zone was I in?
A few days later, I got an email from him asking me if I wanted to be friends, what kind of friend I wanted to be, etc. He was completely analyzing something that didn't even exist yet. Um...next. But we saw that coming.
Now don't get me wrong. I haven't lost sight of the fact that I am the common denominator in all of these encounters.
Maybe I'm too picky.
Maybe I'm too set in my ways.
Maybe I have unrealistically high standards.
Maybe it is me.
Ummm....maybe not.
If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.
"1 + 1 = 0"
Original Post Date, March 24, 2009
Let's talk about this whole cougar phenomenon. I don't know. Is it really a phenomenon? It looks like women have finally caught up to men in the "I look like an idiot dating someone 15 years younger than me" category. I suppose it was inevitable.
We make our own money, we own our own homes, we kill our own spiders. It was just a matter of time before we bought our own boyfriends.
Clarification, please. Do you have to be rich to be a cougah (it's so much more fun to say it that way, isn't it?) or do you just need to be old and horny for young boys?
I'm neither. So I guess I'm not a cougah. There have been two instances where I've dated (and I use the term "dated" very loosely) younger guys. The first one was 21 years old to my 29. He was a bartender at Shooter's Restaurant and he was cute as cute could be. He was a bodybuilder and had lots of tattoos. I'm 5'9, he was maybe 5'5. But did I mention how cute he was? He wasn't very bright, either, and one of my elitist friends said, "What could you possibly see in him? Don't you need intellectual stimulation?" I just laughed and told her that was what I had her for.
The second young'un was 21 years old when I was 34. I met him at a going away party that my friend's co-workers threw for her when she got a new job. He was pretty cute and he had a motorcycle. Well, I had never been on a motorcycle so we wandered outside the bar, took a ride on the bike and then sat down to talk.
Keep in mind: I'm 34, he's 21.
Me: "That was a fun ride. How fast were we going?"
Him: "I don't know, dude. Somewhere around 90 miles an hour."
Me: "Oh my."
chat....chat....chat....
Him: "You have a kick ass body, man!"
Me: "Why, thank you."
Him: "You rock!", pointing both fingers at me. Pow! Pow!
Me: "Thank you, again."
WHY I gave him my phone number is beyond me but I think we met for a drink once and he did call a few times. He was a truck driver and his cargo was usually clothing for the Gap or The Limited. He was sweet enough to offer to steal some clothing for me if I gave him my size but I was torn between telling him my size and reporting him to the authorities.
Needless to say, that relationship didn't work out.
I just can't imagine dating someone that much younger now and I don't understand why women do it. I suppose it's the ego boost. We do it because we can. We don't look like our mothers looked when they were our age. I'm trying to picture what I would look like in one of my mother's housecoats and it's not pretty, although the front snaps would make for easy access.
I can't imagine it's the sex, either. Maybe we just think we look younger standing next to some hot young thing. It's probably what Donald Trump and Bruce Willis think.
I thought I might look younger standing next to someone older so I went out with a 50 year old a few weeks ago. He was very nice, very articulate and very polite. Throughout the course of the night, he alluded to how great it would be to have someone to go to church and/or Bible study with.
Now if you've read at least three of my posts, you've probably figured out that I'm not the girl for him and I told him so. He brushed it off and asked me if I would like to out again. Sure, I say, let's do this again as he kissed me on the cheek.
I almost wanted to take his hands and put them on my boobs. Lively banter, gentlemanly behavior...what kind of dating twilight zone was I in?
A few days later, I got an email from him asking me if I wanted to be friends, what kind of friend I wanted to be, etc. He was completely analyzing something that didn't even exist yet. Um...next. But we saw that coming.
Now don't get me wrong. I haven't lost sight of the fact that I am the common denominator in all of these encounters.
Maybe I'm too picky.
Maybe I'm too set in my ways.
Maybe I have unrealistically high standards.
Maybe it is me.
Ummm....maybe not.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Go ahead, make my day
 | Read features, fashion, and beauty with these mags. |
Okay, so I had my LAST date on Saturday. And not in a good “my last date…my last kiss” kinda way. I’m just DONE.
We’ve discussed how shallow I am and how that usually ends up biting me in the ass when the pretty boys end up being jerks. I decided to go out with a really nice, educated, articulate, successful financial planner that really wasn’t my physical “type” but since chemistry can be so elusive anyway, I decided to give it a shot. He was 50, divorced with three young kids (again, I ask the question…where were these guys when I wanted kids 10 years ago??)
We decided to meet at a trendy pub on Saturday for lunch. I was anxious to check it out since I had never been there before and some friends said it was fun. Well, he got there before me and texted that it wasn’t open for lunch but that he would wait in the parking lot for me and we could go somewhere else. I pulled up to see a silver haired guy sitting in a ginormous SUV, tapping away on his iPhone. He suggested that we head down the road to another bar and I got in his car. (I know. Stupid move. But I figured if anything happened to me, he could easily be found by all information I had gathered through my pre-date investigation of him).
He was nice but I didn’t really feel a connection which was probably best when he told me about his “still really angry” ex-wife who was a surgeon and had left him for a resident, only to have that guy leave her, too. Isn’t that how it always is? It sounded like he had way too much drama in his life and that he was looking for something more serious than I was anyway. It seems like all the men I meet are looking for their next wife and they don’t understand a woman who wants to casually date. By the end of lunch, he was telling me to “not take it personally, but you aren’t ready to date.”
Um, okay, Dr. Drew.
What the hell??
We had an interesting debate on that one and he asked me if I was a serial dater?? Wha??
We had actually made plans to do something after lunch but it was obvious to both of us that this date was over. I feel like I’m now acting like all the men I dated when I was in my 20’s and the guys are me. “Don’t you realize that I’m the best thing since sliced bread?”
Driving back to my car, we had this conversation:
Ginormous SUV guy: “You know it was really…um…brave of you to get in a car with someone you don’t know.”
I gazed at him wistfully, “Yeah…maybe….”
“No, really. I mean, you don’t even know me.”
I turned to him and smiled, “It’s okay. I have a gun in my purse.”
He started to laugh but then I saw the look of fear and uncertainty flash across his face.
Go ahead, buddy, call me a serial dater again.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Monday Morning Millie & Dino
"I'm not saying sorry until she says she's sorry."
"I'm not saying sorry until he says he's sorry."
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Secondhand Sunday
Sundays are my Secondhand day. I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I re-post a "vintage" entry.
If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.
"Is chivalry dead?"
Original Post Date, February 25, 2010
I'm about as independent as they come. I kill my own spiders, mow my own lawn and clean my own sink trap.
You heard that right.
I know what a sink trap is and I know how to clean it.
While I'm proud that I can take care of myself, I do appreciate small chivalrous acts. Just like the art of the compliment, boys, these simple things go a long way. And not just for your wife or girlfriend. Even perfect strangers will inwardly swoon at your respect for all females.
Since I work in a large hospital with a multitude of elevators, elevator etiquette is probably my biggest pet peeve.
Now, I understand that on occasion, there are emergencies that would necessitate a man running out of the elevator before me but, c'mon, they don't happen every day.
Here's the rule. Women exit first. The end.
Depending on the time of day that I get to work, I may run into the Russian professor who has a penchant for vests and elbow patch jackets.
"You look so nice today. The pearls are a nice touch," he'll say, as he holds the door open for me.
Or the nice, young resident who offered to carry boxes out for me when he saw me struggling.
Then there's THIS guy.
"Mister It's All About Me"
I began seeing him about a week ago. The first time was when we both started walking toward the double glass doors that lead you to the elevator on the roof of the parking garage.
I saw him glance back at me as he reached the door but he ignored the fact that I was nearly on his heels and let the door shut on me. I mumbled a "thank you very much" under my breath when I stepped inside.
He responded in some foreign tongue pretending he had no grasp of English, much like Akio Toyoda did in the Congressional hearings today. I'm sure both of these clowns could probably teach English as a second language.
To add more insult, when we descended the 8 floors to street level, he rushed past me to exit the elevator as I stood there, incredulous once more. And he's done this elevator bolt three more times in the last week.
That's not how you do it, "Mister It's All About Me."
Today, I got to the elevator before him. He was still a distance away but I kept looking back at him as I pounded on the down button.
"Hurry! Hurry!", I yelled to the elevator as I turned around again, feeling like a bank robber fleeing the po-po.
He was gaining ground when he dropped his keys.
Score!
"Hurry! Hurry, goddamn you!!" My heart pounded faster as I watched the numbers light up in succession.
4.....5.....6.....7....8!
As the door opened, I rushed inside and hit 1.
Close! Close!, I shouted in my head, as I saw him coming through the doors, waving his arm.
"Hold the elevator!", he shouted.
I leaned forward as the doors were almost closed, "Qué?"
And THAT'S how you do it, "Mister It's All About Me."
If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.
"Is chivalry dead?"
Original Post Date, February 25, 2010
I'm about as independent as they come. I kill my own spiders, mow my own lawn and clean my own sink trap.
You heard that right.
I know what a sink trap is and I know how to clean it.
While I'm proud that I can take care of myself, I do appreciate small chivalrous acts. Just like the art of the compliment, boys, these simple things go a long way. And not just for your wife or girlfriend. Even perfect strangers will inwardly swoon at your respect for all females.
Since I work in a large hospital with a multitude of elevators, elevator etiquette is probably my biggest pet peeve.
Now, I understand that on occasion, there are emergencies that would necessitate a man running out of the elevator before me but, c'mon, they don't happen every day.
Here's the rule. Women exit first. The end.
Depending on the time of day that I get to work, I may run into the Russian professor who has a penchant for vests and elbow patch jackets.
"You look so nice today. The pearls are a nice touch," he'll say, as he holds the door open for me.
Or the nice, young resident who offered to carry boxes out for me when he saw me struggling.
Then there's THIS guy.
"Mister It's All About Me"
I began seeing him about a week ago. The first time was when we both started walking toward the double glass doors that lead you to the elevator on the roof of the parking garage.
I saw him glance back at me as he reached the door but he ignored the fact that I was nearly on his heels and let the door shut on me. I mumbled a "thank you very much" under my breath when I stepped inside.
He responded in some foreign tongue pretending he had no grasp of English, much like Akio Toyoda did in the Congressional hearings today. I'm sure both of these clowns could probably teach English as a second language.
To add more insult, when we descended the 8 floors to street level, he rushed past me to exit the elevator as I stood there, incredulous once more. And he's done this elevator bolt three more times in the last week.
That's not how you do it, "Mister It's All About Me."
Today, I got to the elevator before him. He was still a distance away but I kept looking back at him as I pounded on the down button.
"Hurry! Hurry!", I yelled to the elevator as I turned around again, feeling like a bank robber fleeing the po-po.
He was gaining ground when he dropped his keys.
Score!
"Hurry! Hurry, goddamn you!!" My heart pounded faster as I watched the numbers light up in succession.
4.....5.....6.....7....8!
As the door opened, I rushed inside and hit 1.
Close! Close!, I shouted in my head, as I saw him coming through the doors, waving his arm.
"Hold the elevator!", he shouted.
I leaned forward as the doors were almost closed, "Qué?"
And THAT'S how you do it, "Mister It's All About Me."
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
My left foot
No...no...not the Daniel Day-Lewis movie. This is actually about my left foot.
I went back to the podiatrist on Friday for the results of my MRI. Curiously enough, I haven’t been experiencing as much pain in the last few weeks but it’s probably because I bought these cool new workout shoes.
I was all set to shell out at least a hundred bucks but as luck would have it, Dick’s Sporting Goods was a having a big clearance sale.
Reduced shoe + extra % off - gift card = 43 cents! That's right. Cents.
The doc said that the MRI findings show that I have a condition called Norton’s Neuroma, which I know, sounds awful and “oma” like. It turns out that a neuroma is an injury to the nerves between the toes. He went through the whole spiel about what a neuroma is and then told that he thinks it’s something else. Um...okay.
He says it’s capsulitis, which is similar but it affects a different toe. The ligaments surrounding the joint at the base of the second toe form a “capsule,” which helps the joint to function properly. Capsulitis is a condition in which these ligaments have become inflamed.
It's also known as predislocation syndrome. The brochure that the doc gave me states "the ball of the foot beneath the toe joint takes an excessive amount of weight-bearing pressure."
Shut it! I know there's an excessive amount of weight on it right now.
Capsulitis is a progressive disorder and usually worsens if left untreated so it's best to act on it now before the toe drifts over and lies on top of the big toe. I was going to post a picture but it's far too disturbing.
I'm wearing a splint and this little rubbery thing between my big toe and second toe. Of course, they always look at your shoes and tell you not to wear the "fancy kind". I think the shoes I wear now are pretty stylish and practical. Why, just the other day, a nun was complimenting me on them.
I'm supposed to stay off the foot as much as possible but that's not going to happen. I finally got into a workout routine so I can't stop now.
He did suggest having a custom orthotic made but I just can't do it. That's like resigning yourself to wearing grandma shoes for the rest of your life.
I'm too young.
What if I want to wear f@#! me pumps again?
Oh, wait. This will probably work as long as I never actually stand on them.
I went back to the podiatrist on Friday for the results of my MRI. Curiously enough, I haven’t been experiencing as much pain in the last few weeks but it’s probably because I bought these cool new workout shoes.
I was all set to shell out at least a hundred bucks but as luck would have it, Dick’s Sporting Goods was a having a big clearance sale.
Reduced shoe + extra % off - gift card = 43 cents! That's right. Cents.
The doc said that the MRI findings show that I have a condition called Norton’s Neuroma, which I know, sounds awful and “oma” like. It turns out that a neuroma is an injury to the nerves between the toes. He went through the whole spiel about what a neuroma is and then told that he thinks it’s something else. Um...okay.
He says it’s capsulitis, which is similar but it affects a different toe. The ligaments surrounding the joint at the base of the second toe form a “capsule,” which helps the joint to function properly. Capsulitis is a condition in which these ligaments have become inflamed.
It's also known as predislocation syndrome. The brochure that the doc gave me states "the ball of the foot beneath the toe joint takes an excessive amount of weight-bearing pressure."
Shut it! I know there's an excessive amount of weight on it right now.
Capsulitis is a progressive disorder and usually worsens if left untreated so it's best to act on it now before the toe drifts over and lies on top of the big toe. I was going to post a picture but it's far too disturbing.
I'm wearing a splint and this little rubbery thing between my big toe and second toe. Of course, they always look at your shoes and tell you not to wear the "fancy kind". I think the shoes I wear now are pretty stylish and practical. Why, just the other day, a nun was complimenting me on them.
I'm supposed to stay off the foot as much as possible but that's not going to happen. I finally got into a workout routine so I can't stop now.
He did suggest having a custom orthotic made but I just can't do it. That's like resigning yourself to wearing grandma shoes for the rest of your life.
I'm too young.
What if I want to wear f@#! me pumps again?
Oh, wait. This will probably work as long as I never actually stand on them.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Monday Morning Vinny & Millie
"Maybe if I cover my face, no one will recognize me as the guy with the dog's nose in his butt."
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Secondhand Sunday
Sundays are my Secondhand day. I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I re-post a "vintage" entry.
If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.
"Eeny, meeny, miney, moe..."
Original Post Date, November 24, 2010
I’ve been on and off dating websites for the last 10 years.
Good Lord. TEN years.
Recently, more off than on.
The last time was in 2009 when I tried out Plentyoffish.com (can you say FREE?) and met the manly man firefighter.
He subsequently went back to his wife. By the way, if you know of any men who are separated, please give them my number and they will be sure to reconcile with their ex in no time.
Then I tried the California guy thing and that went to straight to hell. And by the way, do you know that he never even emailed to see how my Dad was? How shitty is that?
Obviously, I had a lot going on this past year so dating was the last thing on my mind but I think I’m ready to get out there again. Whatever that means.
Last night, I went on Match.com just to peek around and see what the pickin's are and I actually found some interesting people. Of course, the bummer is that most of them have "40 year old woman" at the top of their age range. Maybe 41. The only ones who are willing to date 44 year old women are usually 74 year old men.
He's on my "maybe" list
The fact that you can be so specific about your “criteria” is what attracts me to Match.com over the others. No, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to only look for men who live within a 5 mile radius of my home. You know I’m lazy, so the last thing I want to do is drive any farther than I have to.
And sure, they can drive to see me but c’mon, it’s Ohio. I don't need some guy I’ve only been out with a few times to drive in from Akron during a blizzard and then use as an excuse that “the roads are too bad to drive back home, baby”.
Here's a snow brush, baby. Put your pants on and get out.
I know that I’m not looking for a serious relationship. All I want is someone to go out with once in a while and to "bada boom, bada bing"!
Wait. Does that mean "sex" or does it mean "killing someone"? I'm looking for the first one.
These were some of the profiles from last night.
A plumber? Nah...my pipes are in pretty good shape.
Graphic designer? Well, I am looking at a new website venture. I’ll save that profile to my favorites.
Landscaper? I really need a fall clean up in my yard. I wonder if he does snowplowing? Save that one…
Attorney? No, I’m good.
Electrician? Oh, I really want an outlet installed out front so I can do Christmas lights this year. Save to favorites…
No...I know...you're right!
I shouldn't be looking at these men for they can DO for me. I should be looking for someone who has the same morals, religious beliefs and interests as me. Because that's really the only way that I'll find someone that I'm compatible with.
Hold on...this one does drywall....
If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.
"Eeny, meeny, miney, moe..."
Original Post Date, November 24, 2010
I’ve been on and off dating websites for the last 10 years.
Good Lord. TEN years.
Recently, more off than on.
The last time was in 2009 when I tried out Plentyoffish.com (can you say FREE?) and met the manly man firefighter.
He subsequently went back to his wife. By the way, if you know of any men who are separated, please give them my number and they will be sure to reconcile with their ex in no time.
Then I tried the California guy thing and that went to straight to hell. And by the way, do you know that he never even emailed to see how my Dad was? How shitty is that?
Obviously, I had a lot going on this past year so dating was the last thing on my mind but I think I’m ready to get out there again. Whatever that means.
Last night, I went on Match.com just to peek around and see what the pickin's are and I actually found some interesting people. Of course, the bummer is that most of them have "40 year old woman" at the top of their age range. Maybe 41. The only ones who are willing to date 44 year old women are usually 74 year old men.
He's on my "maybe" list
The fact that you can be so specific about your “criteria” is what attracts me to Match.com over the others. No, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to only look for men who live within a 5 mile radius of my home. You know I’m lazy, so the last thing I want to do is drive any farther than I have to.
And sure, they can drive to see me but c’mon, it’s Ohio. I don't need some guy I’ve only been out with a few times to drive in from Akron during a blizzard and then use as an excuse that “the roads are too bad to drive back home, baby”.
Here's a snow brush, baby. Put your pants on and get out.
I know that I’m not looking for a serious relationship. All I want is someone to go out with once in a while and to "bada boom, bada bing"!
Wait. Does that mean "sex" or does it mean "killing someone"? I'm looking for the first one.
These were some of the profiles from last night.
A plumber? Nah...my pipes are in pretty good shape.
Graphic designer? Well, I am looking at a new website venture. I’ll save that profile to my favorites.
Landscaper? I really need a fall clean up in my yard. I wonder if he does snowplowing? Save that one…
Attorney? No, I’m good.
Electrician? Oh, I really want an outlet installed out front so I can do Christmas lights this year. Save to favorites…
No...I know...you're right!
I shouldn't be looking at these men for they can DO for me. I should be looking for someone who has the same morals, religious beliefs and interests as me. Because that's really the only way that I'll find someone that I'm compatible with.
Hold on...this one does drywall....
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Look out losers!
Get the inside scoop on celebrities with these mags.
I told you guys that I’ve been busting my butt to get in shape. Well, I’m happy to report that I’m down 10 pounds!
I’ll pause here until the applause subsides….
Thank you!
Only 30 pounds to go!
I knew that once I got a routine going again, I would be able to stick with it. Initially, I tried P90X again, but I just wasn’t feeling it this go around. My friend, Nancy, kept saying “Tracy Anderson….you should try Tracy Anderson….have I told you about Tracy Anderson?” Well, since Tracy Anderson is probably the only infomercial workout system that I don’t own, I logged onto QVC and ordered it. It will be all mine once I make the last of the four “easy pay” payments.
Can I just say that I LOVE this workout? Sure, initially I was cursing Nancy and the ground she walks on, but once I got the hang of it, I actually enjoyed it. Don’t get me wrong, it completely kicks my ass and I’m really only doing half of it. Let me explain.
The program is called Metamorphosis and it consists of a session of Dance Cardio combined with a full body workout. The Dance Cardio is 30 minutes long and the first day, I was able to do 5 minutes. Hey, don’t laugh, I was pretty impressed that I lasted that long.
Partly because of being grossly out of shape and partly because of my stupid foot. You know how I’m a klutz, right? Well, I guess that one of the 10 or 20 times that I’ve tripped/fallen in the last 6 months must have done something to the ball of my left foot. And what is it that you do in Dance Cardio? That’s right. You dance on the balls of your feet.
I went to the doctor last week and the x rays didn’t reveal any bone fractures so he ordered an MRI to see if there might be some tissue damage.
Have any of you ever had an MRI? I remember seeing those “Open MRI” places and thinking, “What the heck? Open MRI? Why would someone need that?” And then I had a regular MRI in the TUBE. I never knew I was claustrophobic until I had to lie in this tube that was inches from my body for 60 minutes as it hummmmed around me. AHHHHHHHH!!!!!
Luckily, the podiatrist directed me toward an extremity MRI facility where all I had to do was sit back, place my foot in a tube and watch Ellen for 45 minutes. I get the results this Friday.
The second half of the Tracy Anderson workout includes varying leg lifts.
Lots of them.
Like 200 on each side.
And for this, I paid $100?
But the awesome news is that I can totally feel my thighs getter harder and my butt lifting after just 4 weeks. Admittedly, I’ve been way less than perfect with my diet so I feel those things under the layer of fat that covers them. C’mon, it was the holiday. Of course, I was going to indulge in my favorite martinis, Christmas cookies and sweets. Now that the leftovers have been thrown out...okay, eaten...it’s time to focus on my diet as well.
I’ve decided to tackle this with the determination of a Biggest Loser contestant. I see it like this. The average contestant is on the ranch for 12 weeks, exercises 4-6 hours a day and loses, what, an average of 100 pounds? So if I work out for 12 weeks for 2 hours a day, I should be able to reach my goal by March 1!
And then I expect you all to pool your resources and reward me with $100,000.
Monday, January 2, 2012
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
It's my pity party and I'll cry if I want to
To say that I’ve had a challenging couple of years would be an understatement. I’ve experienced a roller coaster of emotions as this ‘resistant to change’ gal has had her whole world turned upside down.
We all have different ways of dealing with stress in our lives. Some people drink, some smoke or do drugs. My drug of choice happens to be food. And it was never a problem until I started gaining weight when I was about 42. The weight gain was insidious; 5 pounds here, another 10 there. On my 5’9 frame, it was barely noticeable.
I started on meds for anxiety and depression last year and subsequently gained another 40 pounds. Was it all from the meds? Heck no! I’m pretty sure that nightly pitchers of cocktails and gallons of ice cream contributed as well.
Looking back, I realize that I lived a lot of my life for my parents. Even before they were both ill. Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that I have any regrets or that I would have done anything differently. I’ve just been struggling for the last 9 months to figure out who I am and what I want.
I couldn’t tell you if I’ve grieved “properly”. I don’t know that there’s really a right or wrong way and I know it’s different for everyone. I’ve just been trying to move forward while struggling to make peace with a lot of the past.
It’s no secret that I’m really unhappy with my weight right now and I’ve been busting my butt to make some changes. When I went on a dating website a month ago, I knew I wasn’t in an emotionally healthy place for a relationship and was instead looking for a distraction through the holidays.
Then I met Macy’s guy. You know how it is when you instantly click with someone and you feel like you’ve known them forever? It doesn’t just happen with romance. I’ve met women who have become my kindred souls seemingly without effort.
Macy’s guy and I had common ground on so many things and we were never at a loss for conversation. We saw each other a few times a week and shared a lot as we talked for an hour every night. I even made the bold move to invite him to a get together with all of my closest friends and he readily accepted. The last time they met anyone I was dating was 5 years ago.
He seemed to be everything that I didn’t think I wanted and it seemed crazy because it was all so sudden and yet it kinda made sense, too. I vacillated between running like hell and jumping in feet first.
Last weekend, I hadn’t heard from him much and I was finally able to get him on the phone Monday night when he told me that he “didn’t want to pursue this any further”.
I didn’t understand and so I asked him, “Why?” His response was that he didn’t want to tell me because he didn’t want to sound shallow.
My heart sunk and I thought of the struggles with my weight that I had shared with him. He was dumping me because of the way I look. I would have preferred that he had called me a bitch or told me that my moral compass was askew or that my pot roast was lousy but the way I LOOK??
This was unchartered territory for me and my knee jerk reaction was to defend myself and tell him how hard I had been working out. Then, almost as soon as I heard myself saying it, I retracted it realizing that I didn’t have to justify myself to someone who didn’t accept me as I was.
But you know what? I get it. I mean, I’m as shallow as he is, only I’ll reject someone immediately. I don’t string ‘em along and then change my mind. I guess he wasn’t the person that I thought (hoped) he was but the blow to my ego was devastating.
Have you watched any of the news coverage about the death of North Korean leader, Kim Jong-il, where they show the people of North Korea out in the streets wailing in sadness over the loss of him?
Yeah.
That’s how I was Monday night.
I took the dogs for a long walk and I sobbed all the way. I can’t believe no one called the police. I made sure to go down different streets where no one knew me!
I was so distraught but not over the loss of Macy’s guy. I guess I was crying over the loss of my youth, my hotness and everything that has to do with how I look. I had officially entered middle age and it sucked.
Am I feeling sorry for myself?
Oh yes.
It's my pity party and I'll cry if I want to.
We all have different ways of dealing with stress in our lives. Some people drink, some smoke or do drugs. My drug of choice happens to be food. And it was never a problem until I started gaining weight when I was about 42. The weight gain was insidious; 5 pounds here, another 10 there. On my 5’9 frame, it was barely noticeable.
I started on meds for anxiety and depression last year and subsequently gained another 40 pounds. Was it all from the meds? Heck no! I’m pretty sure that nightly pitchers of cocktails and gallons of ice cream contributed as well.
Looking back, I realize that I lived a lot of my life for my parents. Even before they were both ill. Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that I have any regrets or that I would have done anything differently. I’ve just been struggling for the last 9 months to figure out who I am and what I want.
I couldn’t tell you if I’ve grieved “properly”. I don’t know that there’s really a right or wrong way and I know it’s different for everyone. I’ve just been trying to move forward while struggling to make peace with a lot of the past.
It’s no secret that I’m really unhappy with my weight right now and I’ve been busting my butt to make some changes. When I went on a dating website a month ago, I knew I wasn’t in an emotionally healthy place for a relationship and was instead looking for a distraction through the holidays.
Then I met Macy’s guy. You know how it is when you instantly click with someone and you feel like you’ve known them forever? It doesn’t just happen with romance. I’ve met women who have become my kindred souls seemingly without effort.
Macy’s guy and I had common ground on so many things and we were never at a loss for conversation. We saw each other a few times a week and shared a lot as we talked for an hour every night. I even made the bold move to invite him to a get together with all of my closest friends and he readily accepted. The last time they met anyone I was dating was 5 years ago.
He seemed to be everything that I didn’t think I wanted and it seemed crazy because it was all so sudden and yet it kinda made sense, too. I vacillated between running like hell and jumping in feet first.
Last weekend, I hadn’t heard from him much and I was finally able to get him on the phone Monday night when he told me that he “didn’t want to pursue this any further”.
I didn’t understand and so I asked him, “Why?” His response was that he didn’t want to tell me because he didn’t want to sound shallow.
My heart sunk and I thought of the struggles with my weight that I had shared with him. He was dumping me because of the way I look. I would have preferred that he had called me a bitch or told me that my moral compass was askew or that my pot roast was lousy but the way I LOOK??
This was unchartered territory for me and my knee jerk reaction was to defend myself and tell him how hard I had been working out. Then, almost as soon as I heard myself saying it, I retracted it realizing that I didn’t have to justify myself to someone who didn’t accept me as I was.
But you know what? I get it. I mean, I’m as shallow as he is, only I’ll reject someone immediately. I don’t string ‘em along and then change my mind. I guess he wasn’t the person that I thought (hoped) he was but the blow to my ego was devastating.
Have you watched any of the news coverage about the death of North Korean leader, Kim Jong-il, where they show the people of North Korea out in the streets wailing in sadness over the loss of him?
Yeah.
That’s how I was Monday night.
I took the dogs for a long walk and I sobbed all the way. I can’t believe no one called the police. I made sure to go down different streets where no one knew me!
I was so distraught but not over the loss of Macy’s guy. I guess I was crying over the loss of my youth, my hotness and everything that has to do with how I look. I had officially entered middle age and it sucked.
Am I feeling sorry for myself?
Oh yes.
It's my pity party and I'll cry if I want to.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Secondhand Sunday
Sundays are my Secondhand day. I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I re-post a "vintage" entry.
If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.
"Spanx me"
Original Post Date, July 2, 2010
“Maybe you should think about wearing a girdle.”
Ahhhh…Saturdays with Mom.
This is what my mother thinks I look like.
I believe my mother has a condition called reverse other people’s bodies dysmorphia. She sees me as way fatter than I am. Yes...yes! I've gained a lot of weight but I'm 5'9 so 40 pounds on me isn't the same as 40 pounds on someone who's 5'2. And besides, 25 of those pounds are in my boobs.
What is the big freakin' deal??
Then I came home and tried on one of my skirts from last summer. It didn't zip all the way up and I heard my mother's voice, "Maybe you should think about wearing a girdle." I don't even like wearing control top pantyhose but we're in a different time than when our mother's wore girdles. Today, girdles have fancy names like Spanx and they're trendy to wear. Heck, even Queen Oprah sings their praises.
So I went to spanx.com to see what the hype was all about. Oh, look! They have a new line of slimming swimwear. Okay, Spanx marketers. If you want to convince me that this bathing suit is going to make me look slimmer, don't show me a skinny bitch without an ounce of body fat wearing one.
"Look at me! I haven't eaten since May."
Show me THIS woman wearing the body slimming bathing suit if you want me to shell out $107.
I looked through all the nonsensically named bodysuits, shapers, panties and slips and finally decided on the "Higher Power" body shaper.
It has a high waist to eliminate the "muffin top" and longer legs to slim those cottage cheesey thighs. Wait a minute...$36?!?!?!
Well, I found one for a fraction of the cost on eBay and bought it. Yes, it's probably stolen since there was no packaging but I don't care. Didn't you hear the part about it being a fraction of the cost?
Let me tell you, ladies, (and curious gents) I HATE this stupid thing. First of all, it took me 5 minutes to get it on over my butt. My face was bright red by the time I did and I had to sit down and rest. The high waist doesn't stay high unless you're as thin as skinny bitch. The top rolled down by the time I got to work and created a larger bulge than ever existed before.
There's a handy dandy hole in the crotch for, I'm guessing here, relieving yourself. But it would be impossible to do without dribbling all over it. And besides, it just feels freaky walking around work in what are essentially crotchless panties.
Are they handy for a quickie? Oh, sure. But for as good as they might look under your clothing, they're less than flattering by themselves so it's not likely I would even get any takers.
Sorry, Oprah, I usually like every book, wine, car, hair product and musical artist that you suggest but I have to give you a big thumbs down on this one.
If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.
"Spanx me"
Original Post Date, July 2, 2010
“Maybe you should think about wearing a girdle.”
Ahhhh…Saturdays with Mom.
This is what my mother thinks I look like.
I believe my mother has a condition called reverse other people’s bodies dysmorphia. She sees me as way fatter than I am. Yes...yes! I've gained a lot of weight but I'm 5'9 so 40 pounds on me isn't the same as 40 pounds on someone who's 5'2. And besides, 25 of those pounds are in my boobs.
What is the big freakin' deal??
Then I came home and tried on one of my skirts from last summer. It didn't zip all the way up and I heard my mother's voice, "Maybe you should think about wearing a girdle." I don't even like wearing control top pantyhose but we're in a different time than when our mother's wore girdles. Today, girdles have fancy names like Spanx and they're trendy to wear. Heck, even Queen Oprah sings their praises.
So I went to spanx.com to see what the hype was all about. Oh, look! They have a new line of slimming swimwear. Okay, Spanx marketers. If you want to convince me that this bathing suit is going to make me look slimmer, don't show me a skinny bitch without an ounce of body fat wearing one.
"Look at me! I haven't eaten since May."
Show me THIS woman wearing the body slimming bathing suit if you want me to shell out $107.
I looked through all the nonsensically named bodysuits, shapers, panties and slips and finally decided on the "Higher Power" body shaper.
It has a high waist to eliminate the "muffin top" and longer legs to slim those cottage cheesey thighs. Wait a minute...$36?!?!?!
Well, I found one for a fraction of the cost on eBay and bought it. Yes, it's probably stolen since there was no packaging but I don't care. Didn't you hear the part about it being a fraction of the cost?
Let me tell you, ladies, (and curious gents) I HATE this stupid thing. First of all, it took me 5 minutes to get it on over my butt. My face was bright red by the time I did and I had to sit down and rest. The high waist doesn't stay high unless you're as thin as skinny bitch. The top rolled down by the time I got to work and created a larger bulge than ever existed before.
There's a handy dandy hole in the crotch for, I'm guessing here, relieving yourself. But it would be impossible to do without dribbling all over it. And besides, it just feels freaky walking around work in what are essentially crotchless panties.
Are they handy for a quickie? Oh, sure. But for as good as they might look under your clothing, they're less than flattering by themselves so it's not likely I would even get any takers.
Sorry, Oprah, I usually like every book, wine, car, hair product and musical artist that you suggest but I have to give you a big thumbs down on this one.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Well, whadya know??
Alas, after a little over two weeks, I reached my disgust threshold and took my profile down from the dating website. I love the things that men do to entice you.
Pictures of their cars
Picture of them cuddling dogs
Pictures of their houses
And my favorite going out of business line
"Hurry! I’m only on here for two more days before my membership expires." I think this was the guy who under "my favorite things to do", wrote SEX.
Hey, we didn't need Chess King and we don't need you!
Needless to say, I didn't fall for any of them. Instead, I fell for a picture of a handsome guy sitting on his living couch, smiling. Remember Macy’s guy? The one I fell in love with when he told me his father gets VIP seats to the Macy’s parade and then subsequently was annoyed with when he stopped calling after a week?
Well, he finally did call again and we went out for drinks.
Which led to dinner.
And more drinks.
And dessert.
And then FOUR HOURS LATER, we were both completely smitten with each other.
Which led to another date. And another. And another. I’ll keep you posted!
Pictures of their cars
Picture of them cuddling dogs
Pictures of their houses
And my favorite going out of business line
"Hurry! I’m only on here for two more days before my membership expires." I think this was the guy who under "my favorite things to do", wrote SEX.
Hey, we didn't need Chess King and we don't need you!
Needless to say, I didn't fall for any of them. Instead, I fell for a picture of a handsome guy sitting on his living couch, smiling. Remember Macy’s guy? The one I fell in love with when he told me his father gets VIP seats to the Macy’s parade and then subsequently was annoyed with when he stopped calling after a week?
Well, he finally did call again and we went out for drinks.
Which led to dinner.
And more drinks.
And dessert.
And then FOUR HOURS LATER, we were both completely smitten with each other.
Which led to another date. And another. And another. I’ll keep you posted!
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