Is it hot in here or is it just me?


It was 107 degrees here in Arlington, Texas today. What…the…hell? I know, I know, I know…it’s Texas. We live a mostly air conditioned life here. We go from our air conditioned homes to our air conditioned cars to the air conditioned store. My neighbors might think I’m trying to log in a little extra cardio by running from my car to my front door, but really I’m just trying to keep my damn shoes from melting to the driveway.

Why am I talking about this now? Because it’s hotter than Satan’s nut sack outside and two out of three A/C units at my gym have died. Now the owner’s business insurance is fighting with the landlord’s property insurance…and no one seems to care that it’s 90 degrees in the damn gym. And you know what I realized?

Neither do I!

Okay, sure, if it was the Dooney & Bourke store I’d be freak’in out. I get hot & bothered enough with all those gorgeous handbags around – I don’t need help. But at the gym? Aren’t I supposed to sweat in there? If you think about it, this is really kind of an extra service they’re giving me that I don’t have to pay for.


And speaking of gyms…something phenomenal happened to me today. Something awesome. Something effing AMAZEBALLS!!!

Y’all know how much I detest gyms, thanks to my last gym experience. It was a hard sell to get me to join another one – but this ladies only gym is working out well. When I’m in there, I’m surrounded by regular looking ladies who are only there to get a workout. They don’t want to impress anyone. They’re just regular chicks.

Since the A/C is out, they have box fans all over the cardio floor. Some people aim them right at themselves (there are usually only about 4 women in the gym when I’m there). There wasn’t one near me as I was pumping away on the elliptical, so I just plugged my headphones in and started lurching away.

Two machines over, a lady was finishing up her workout. She got down, stepped out in front of our row of machines, and turn her box fan towards me so that I would get the lovely breeze. And then she smiled at me and gave me a thumbs up…as if she was saying “You go, girl!” And she left.

What an awesome chick. I smiled and thanked her, of course realizing that this never would have happened in another gym. What a great day!

Sure, it was hotter than hell in there…but that just made me sweat more. And I didn’t do 15 or 16 minutes…I did 20 this time. RAWR!!!!

Lastly, I was interviewed for an article on MSN Healthy Living and it came out today. If you’d like to read it, you can click here – but I warn you that I hate this picture of me with the fire of a thousand suns. I look like the little sister of Hagrid from Harry Potter. If he had a sister. Which I don’t think he did.

I was disappointed that they didn’t let me plug my blog in there anywhere, but I appreciate the opportunity to speak on the bullying that goes on towards the obese. Some of the stories of the other folks in this article are downright inspiring. You should definitely check it out.

Good night, ladies and gentlemen! I wish you good fortune…and I wish your fat cells a quick doom. ♥


Champion Sock w/ Moisture Wicking & Odor Resistance – Women 6 Pair Pack

Poetry – The Hot Mess Princess way

I’m not even going to pretend that I’m a poet, okay – let me just start off by getting that shit out of the way. Sometimes I get in a rhymey mood, though, and last night was one of those nights. This started off as a take on the children’s prayer “Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep” and it just took on a life of it’s own.

I hope it gives you a smile, a little giggle, and a lot of motivation. We got this, peeps.


Much love,




Perseverance vinyl decal

Weekly Recap!


I’m going to try doing a weekly recap on the blog and see how I like it – so welcome to the first one!

Angry Pussycat

If you follow me on Facebook, you know that HMH and I started our week by taking Sarah the kitty to the vet. Miss Sarah is a 17 year old tabby-in-charge. This little eight pound wonder rules our household with an very firm hand, err…paw. I’ve never seen a tiny little kitty boss around a 120 pound Saint Bernard and a 130 pound half-wit – but she does it with gusto. Naturally, it was a shocker for us to wake up Sunday morning to find her left eyelid closed and oozing…with a big lump underneath it.

The diagnosis: an abscessed tooth. After surgery (there went my designer handbag budget), meds, and lots of rest and extra TLC, I’m proud to report that “Sare Bear” is much better. Check out her amazing progress (and you probably shouldn’t eat anything while you’re looking at these – sorry. I should have mentioned that before the first reference to “oozing”.)

Day 1: After surgery. Cranky & hungry.
Day 1: After surgery. Cranky & hungry.
Kirby, the household nursemaid, keeps watch over Sarah as she rests
Kirby, the household nursemaid, keeps watch over Sarah as she rests in my new office. Yes, the disco pillow makes her feel better.
Day 3: Much less icky. Also less crabby and pretty much wants to eat everything in the house.
Day 3: Much less icky. Also less crabby and pretty much wants to eat everything in the house.
Day 6: Pretty much back to normal. She now believes my new office is her new hangout. #Entitled
Day 6: Pretty much back to normal. She now believes my new office is her new hangout. #Entitled


The Red Badge of Courage

Y’all know how much I lament the monthly visit from the 7 Dwarfs of the Menstrual Apocalypse. They rolled out of town this past week – and good riddance, at least for another 28 days. Dillholes. One of the things that makes all the cramping, bleeding, and whining bearable is finding little gems on the internet like this:

Click here for menstrual awesomeness

In other tampon-tastic news, one of my girlfriends sent me a text yesterday complaining that the 7 Dwarfs of the Menstrual Apocalypse showed up at her door. Since she’s a fellow Star Wars geek and I’d just moved my 100% awesome, interactive R2-D2 to my new home office, I decided to text her this picture to cheer her up.

The Force is strong with these tampons
The Force is strong with these tampons

Getting Serious

Had a pretty major epiphany this past week after talking to HMH about weight loss surgery and then finding a true source of motivation to exercise in the memory of a ten year old me.

The result is showing on the scale: I’m down 6 more pounds. Go me!

I was doing 30 minutes on the elliptical before the root canal from hell set me back. Right now, I’m at 12 minutes and trying to get back to that 30 minute mark. I have faith.

Near Death Experience

While trying to enter the building where I work, I was nearly killed by a cicada that was obviously trying to get me to piss my pants and scream like a little girl in front of my co-workers. Insects are such assholes.

My Summertime Guilty Pleasure

Big Brother: I cast all my votes to nominate Amanda as the third nominee up on the block this week. I’m not happy about Howard. “Demanda” has to pay!

We also established that HMP fan Ann is my official stalker/reminder that Big Brother is on. Without her posts on my Facebook fan page, I would never remember to leave the laptop and go watch. ♥

Free Dooney!

Dooney & Bourke is having an August giveaway on Facebook. Click here to enter. It’s not my kind of bag, but I hope you win!

(No, I haven’t been compensated by Dooney & Bourke in any way…I’m just that eff’in nice.)

Good Info

Many thanks to HMP fan Rhiannon for forwarding me this blog post about willpower and cognitive processing. I know, I know, I know…I just made that sound incredibly boring – but it’s not. It’s quite an interesting article. I don’t know about you, but it’s much easier for me to “behave” Monday thru Friday during work hours…and then when I get home, all hell threatens to break loose. This article presents an interesting theory as to why that is. Check out “Your App is Making Me Fat”.

My New Office

My new office is coming along. After weeks of dodging my pleas for help, I finally railroaded Hot Mess Hubby into painting the trim for me. I can do the baseboards, but our ladder has a warning sticker that says “Weight Limit: OH MY GAWD!” and I can’t get on it. Okay, that’s not really what it says – but you get my point. So just today, the painting is finally finished. Next step: hanging shit on the walls to break up all this blue.

It's coming along!
Not really a desk – this is the dining table I bought for my first apartment. I’m sentimentally attached to this baby. It represents such an exciting time of independence for me. I couldn’t part with it, so HMH refinished it for me and it’s now my desk. ♥
Moving in: just a few things that mean the world to me.
Moving in: just a few things that mean the world to me.

In the background, a picture of my parents and me at the Orange County Fair when I was still a wee one. My parents are young and happy…and I’m Daddy’s little girl. I love this picture.

The gold looking penis thing is actually a brass-plated bolt from the Golden Gate Bridge. I used to be absolutely petrified of bridges and then I visited San Francisco and decided to face my fear. I walked the entire bridge and bought this bolt in the gift shop. It’s a reminder that I am perfectly capable of doing things that scare the bejesus out of me.

The Viewmaster I got for my fourth birthday. Yep…still have it. One of my favorite toys ever.

Also pictured: a very snarky Happy Bunny sticker that I just love…and a couple of coasters from the tv show “Friends”.

This Thursday’s Blog Topic

Finally, no offense to Mama Kat’s Thursday blog meme, but  the choices for this Thursday are all pretty boring – so I’ve decided to let y’all suggest the topic. If you’re on Facebook, you can make your suggestion or “like” the suggestion of your choice here. If you’re not, feel free to post a comment here on the blog. Come back on Thursday to see which topic I choose!

That’s my week in a not-so-nutshell, peeps. Now it’s on to another week of food logg’in, gym go’in badassedry.

Let’s do this!

Star Wars: Darth Tater

For Her

It’s Thursday – and normally I would be writing about whatever my Facebook fans voted for…but there was a tie between “The First Time You Heard Your Parent Cuss” and “My Morning Drive”. Since either topic would amount to a total snooze-fest, I’m sparing you the agony of reading them. You’re welcome.

When I look back at the relative ease with which I wrestled my food demons last year, I realize it was a total cake walk. Perhaps that’s not the best choice of words, but it did involve giving up cake. The whole time I was cake-walking through my new menu choices, I kept thinking to myself that it was too easy. I kept telling myself I’d add the exercise part when I was ready, preferring to focus on the food issues at first. When the desire to exercise didn’t come around on its own, I decided to make 2013 all about embracing exercise. And here it is…August…and I still haven’t succeeded at making exercise a habit.

I’ve written a buttload of words about my lack of motivation to exercise. I hate exercise, honestly. I haven’t always felt that way, obviously. I used to be a dancer – and I really loved it. When you’re this overweight, though, you’re not just dealing with the discomfort of sweating in gross places – you’re dealing with actual physical pain just walking to the copy machine at work or getting out of your car. All of these things are huge de-motivators for me…and after eight months of trying, I still haven’t found something that motivates me to workout. I can make myself do it, but that only lasts for a little while. Everyone needs something to look forward to and I couldn’t find my something.

Until last night – but we’ll get to that later.

Let’s talk about what doesn’t motivate me for a minute:

Making a list of all the things I’ll be able to do when I hit my goal weight. Ride a rollercoaster with Hot Mess Hubby. Go to a Texas Rangers baseball game without the sides of the seat digging into my legs. Fly in an airplane without a seat belt extender. All of these things are wonderful. Thinking of them only reminds me that I can’t do these things…how long it will be until I can do these things…and how bad I suck because I’m too fat to do these things.

Motivational quotes on Pinterest pasted on photoshopped pictures of skinny fitness models. HELL no. I don’t care what the words say…the pictures are a complete and total de-motivator. While I continue to hold onto the faith that I’ll hit my goal weight, I am not ignorant enough to believe that I will ever look like these women. Ever. Seeing this crap on Pinterest just makes me laugh.

Eyerolls, looks of disgust, and general disdain from strangers at restaurants…in grocery stores…anywhere. Do they really think that’s motivating? What point are they trying to make exactly? Perhaps it’s arrogant of me to think they’re trying to motivate a person they don’t even know…but then it’s arrogant of them to think I give a flying fart in space what a total stranger thinks of me. Have some manners. I give myself enough shit about this…I don’t need your help. I hope you come back as a fat person in your next life, sweet pea.

Dangling carrots. I’ve tried rewarding myself with money, gifts (including gorgeous handbags…my favorite!) and I’m still not motivated by it. And I know this is super hypocritical, but I have to be honest: if someone offered me a million dollars to lose this weight, it would motivate me. I guess there’s a slight difference between a beautiful Dooney & Bourke handbag and a life-changing fortune…but I still feel hypocritical that the money will motivate me but the handbag won’t.

So those are the things that don’t motivate me. I’ve learned that in the last eight months. Last night, I finally had the epiphany that I’ve been trying to squeeze out of my head the whole damn year. At least that’s what I think happened. I almost feel reluctant to talk about it for fear that it might go away, but I can’t help it. I have to talk about it.

In Tuesday night’s blog, when I said that I couldn’t have weight loss surgery because I needed to show my ten year old self that I could do this on my own, that hit home with me big time. I went to sleep thinking about it. I woke up thinking about it. I got myself ready to start my day, then plopped down in front of the laptop and looked at this picture again.


Look at that face. No, I’m not trying to be an idiot – I know she’s me. Look at her face. She’s a cutie. Although she’s kind of whored up in this picture by her mother’s blue eyeshadow, this is a cute little girl. This is a girl who just wants to dance. She wants to spend time with her girlfriends, go to the school book fair, tease boys, and have fun in art class. And go to slumber parties. Always with the slumber parties.

At this stage of her life, her career ambitions were to be a dancing-astronaut-writer. This girl had hopes and dreams. She was going places. And then a complete dillhole took it all away with ten years of beating her down. She never learned to fight back.

And so when I think of the monumental task of getting myself to my goal weight and I look at the face of this little girl…I see my motivation in those big brown eyes. A motherly/sisterly/auntie vibe comes over me and I instantly want to protect her, nurture her, and show her the ropes. She deserves a good life.

So while I may not want to do it for any of the aforementioned hoo-hah, I would do it for her. Look at that face. What a sweet girl. I would do anything for her.


This little reminder is going with me everywhere from now on. I’m putting it with my gym card so that I have a visual reminder of my motivation with me always.

For her. I’ll do it for her.

It’s the most uplifting thing to finally feel motivation in my gut. I want to go to the gym today! Not for 300+ pound me…for ten year old me. I can’t stop smiling about it.

So if you haven’t found your motivation yet, my message today is…keep looking. You never know where you’ll find it. I think I’ve found mine.

What motivates you?

The Talk About Surgery

Hot Mess Hubby and I had the talk a few weeks ago. We were talking about my struggles with food…and working out…and my weight. And he said the words that a lot of spouses are probably afraid to say.

“Babe, I’m not being mean…but at some point, don’t you have to think about surgery?”

Yowch. I’m not going to say it didn’t hurt to hear that – but after ten years of marriage, HMH knows how to take the sting out of his words. Pretty much.

He was speaking out of love, not malice. He’s watched me struggle with this for a long time now. Any normal person would be thinking “When is it going to be enough for you to just do it?” There is no pressure attached to his message, no impatience or intolerance. He loves me. He’s worried about me.

We’ve had this talk before. A few times. In the beginning, it was just my crazed ranting against surgery because I was watching a friend (or two or three) go through it without using it as a tool for healthy living. I know many people who’ve had weight loss surgery and gained it all back because they didn’t change what was really important: their thinking.

I’ve seriously considered surgery twice in my life. About five years ago I made an appointment with a local surgeon and then cancelled it the day before. Two years ago, I made an appointment with a different surgeon and kept it. I went through the entire screening process, passed the psych exam (shut up, I totally aced it), and was awaiting insurance approval when I stopped the process and decided not to go through with it. Why? Because I lost weight on my own.

worth it

Ever since the first of many of my friends had weight loss surgery, the option of doing it for myself has hung over me like a dark cloud. At one point in my life, all my closest girlfriends had done it. I lived in a world where they were so excited about their amazing weight loss that they couldn’t stop talking about it…and then they started giving me their clothes that were too big for them. As happy as I was for them, it was absolutely crushing.

There have been times when I’ve felt surgery was inevitable. There are moments when I think…what am I waiting for? How long am I going to struggle in vain before I realize that I’m just not strong enough or tough enough or smart enough to change myself?

And that’s when the answer comes. No. I’m not having surgery.

I admit it: there was a time in my life when I looked down at people who decided to have weight loss surgery. I haven’t felt that way about it for a long, long time. I understand it for what it is: a tool. I have nothing but love and support in my heart for those who choose surgery – because I’ll tell you what: unless you’ve been morbidly obese, you have no idea what this is like.

Surgery has a bad rep because there are many weight loss surgeons out there who are smarmy as hell. They get excited when they see a fat person just like a personal injury attorney gets excited when they see an accident victim. These surgeons don’t care how you gained it or why you want to lose it. They don’t care if you’re emotionally ready for it. They care about whether you have insurance or can qualify for easy financing. Weight loss surgery has become Ritalin for fat people – and that’s why it has a bad rep. I know women who have been told to gain 20 pounds in order to qualify. And I know someone who’s done exactly that.

I also know people who have had weight loss surgery and say it’s the best decision they’ve ever made in their lives. They’ve kept their weight off and they live healthy, active lives now. It’s a combination of being ready and finding a decent doctor that results in a positive, lasting experience. It’s just not for me.


I’ve pretty much fixed the inside of me. And I’m pretty damn confident that I’d be successful if I elected to have weight loss surgery. I still can’t do it. Not because I’m afraid, but because I have something to prove.

I think back to that ten year old little girl I was when I first learned what fat was. I think about the way I grew up: believing that I wasn’t enough. I wasn’t lovable enough, smart enough, pretty enough, skinny enough. (Yes, I do realize I sound like that idiot from Saturday Night Live.)

I’m just not going to tell myself that I’m not tough enough to do this the way I feel I need to do it. I’m not going to think about that ten year old kid in that mirror and know that my rotten bastard of a dance teacher was right: that my best is not good enough.

I’m not going to say that to myself. I’m just not. I would rather hurt on the elliptical than hurt in a recovery room. So it’s for her that I’m doing this…that ten year old little girl who just needed someone to stand up for her. I can’t just fix her with surgery. I have to show her that she really was enough.

The path you take to living a healthy life is a very personal one. Whatever road you choose, I wish you a safe journey…and fierce success.

Courage: Overcoming Fear and Igniting Self-Confidence