The Fat Quest

Enhorabuena! Usted es llevan pantalones! 

So my Rosetta Stone New Year's "goal" has been working out pretty well, I've completed the first unit in the program and I can now confidently walk around telling everyone what they're wearing - this is an extremely important conversation tool. Of course it makes for a very brief conversation, but at least I could walk away knowing that someone was fully aware they were wearing pants. Because who hasn't been in that situation before? 

My life's goal.

I know I have much more to learn and that the second unit will have its challenges. But I'm sure that I will soon be able to tell my cat she's terrible in a new language. *fingers crossed*

Help! I've dropped it like it's hot and I cant get up!

My new goal has also prompted me to want to do some other fabulous things this year as well; things like forcing myself to embrace the reality that everyone I work with will always be an asshole, and maybe try to stop judging people by their Facebook profile picture and the things they 'like' online, and perhaps genuinely accept the fact that some people will just never understand the difference between your and you're (this last one is probably going to be the toughest). But the one I'm striving for most is to significantly reduce the amount of fat on my ass...and my legs, and my arms, even my wrists, ankles, and ears. I'm ashamed of my 'me too' goal, but not as ashamed as I am when I attempt to button my pants.

Tubby, tubby.

I'm actually surprised that it took nearly three weeks of January to go by before I got on the fat to fit train that's been steaming through the New Year's Resolution line since the ball dropped in Times Square. I guess it's because I'm not really hoping to go to the extreme of fat to fit, I'm pretty good with just going from fat to less fat. 

Pretty close, but not me. I could
never pull this off. 

I fondly recall the days where I could slide those size 2 jeans on like they were cut just for me, the button easily snapped closed, and there was even room to spare. Now putting on jeans involves a small team of polymer engineers and at least two crane operators. The laws of physics are firmly tested and subsequently defied each time I manage to pull denim over these thighs. Once I manage to actually get them buttoned, I have to wait at least 15 minutes before attempting to breath or walk up a flight of stairs. After it all settles (by 'it' I mean all the extra skin, fat, and cellulite that adorns my body), I cover what I can with an oversized sweater and then live in an overly aggressive state of self-consciousness until I am able to get myself back into a sassy pair of sweatpants and hide within the confines of my own home until daylight strikes again.

The plan.

Okay, I don't really have one of those. The last time I lost a bunch of weight was right after I had forced a human out of my body. I wish it were that simple now...well, if I was totally wealthy and lived in Southern California, I'm sure it probably would be that simple - instead of a human, it'd be all the fat...sucked through a tube. Alas, my husband and I are both government workers who make about 11 cents an hour so it looks like I'm going to have to do it the old fashion way - by being healthy. 

I was able to score a wicked deal on the Jillian Michaels Body Revolution whilst perusing the website nomorerack.com. It's a 90 day program with workouts that run about 30 minutes. Unfortunately, my whole 'I don't have time' argument doesn't really work here...the 30 minutes I spend going back and forth to the fridge once the kids are in bed to pack my gourd full of junk that I don't need can easily be replaced with this program. I've done p90x and Insanity, both successfully I might add. But alas, if I tried either of those now, I'd most likely suffocate in a pool of my own vomit, but that's only if a heart attack didn't get to me first. Granted, these exercises don't seem any easier, it just appears that there is less time for them to try their hand at killing me than the other two. 

I don't think having abs is possible, looks like I'm in luck.

I'm excited to start the program, that is if it ever gets shipped. The downside of scoring a sweet deal is apparently waiting an eternity for it to get shipped. I ordered it over a week ago and it hasn't shipped yet, of course the other items I ordered have (like the remote control helicopter that my husband desperately needed). At least I have time to mentally prepare (or force) myself to get out of this rut (by 'rut' I mean, using my mouth as a veritable garbage disposal). 

So there you have it...me, a couple crane operators, and some jeans, all ready for an easier 'getting my pants on' routine, but more importantly, a less lumpy looking butt. Cause really...yuck. 

Might wanna get that spoonful of sugar, just to help this all go down...

I guess, before we go any further in this blog relationship, I should tell you a little something about me. 

In short, I'm awesome. Really, just ask anyone that is required to agree via birth, blood lines,  marriage, and court order. Outside this realm, however, you'll most likely get a different response.

Unfortunately, I know everything...and if I don't I will bullshit with enough big words and convoluted theory to make you feel like you've been wrong about everything your entire life. But I will follow always it up with a compliment, so the whole thing will be a little bit easier to swallow.

Example:

My Brother: "I'm not adopted, let it go."

Me: "You're totally adopted. Do a genotype Punnet Square!"

My  Brother: "What the fuck is a Punnet Square?"

Me: "Are you serious? A Punnet Square is only the leading method biologists use to predict an offspring's genotype! Mendelian inheritance...it's basic genetics. Unfortunately for you, the dominant alleles of hair color aren't in your favor. Red hair is a recessive genetic mutation, occurring in 1% of the total population...sorry bro, time to find your real parents. Wow, those are pretty awesome shoes, are they new?

See what I did there? I have no clue what the hell I'm talking about, but I pulled some 7th grade life science on his ass. When your credibility as a know-it-all is on the line, you can't hold back in light of hurt feelings or mental breakdowns. (write that down). 

The reason I can argue with such ridiculousness is because I'm a perpetual student. I hate school, but I love to learn stuff. I've been a full time college student for what seems like eternity, chasing degrees in a wide variety of fields, just for the sake of doing so. Fortunately, I have my GI Bill to fuel my addiction. 

Seriously though, the titles of who I am are standard, I'm a mom (of 2 great little guys), a wife (to an old man!), a daughter (with the awesomest parents), a veteran (which I wear with pride), and generally tired (as in, I'd like to sleep more). 

My perpetual goal is to, each day, become a better mother than I was the day before. I love my two little boys dearly and want to be the best momma I can be. I do the absolute best I can by them, but I'm a work in progress.

As a disclaimer, I suffered a bit of a head injury just shy of a year ago, bits and pieces of my memory come and go, sometimes I use the wrong words because my noggin isn't making the connections, so if my rantings seems a bit off kilter, this is most likely to blame. Or I'm drunk.

As much of a disaster as it can be at times, I love my life...I'm looking forward to getting to know you (and myself) a little bit better as we move forward.