Delicious goo!

Thick, creamy, fruity, fiberful (because I added an exorbitant amount of Benefiber to the blender mid whir), delicious goo! I take hearty sips and spend a moment pantomime chewing my healthy cocktail, then I notice.

Oh yes, I notice.

Oh, I don’t just notice, I dread, shiver, and frown at the true juxtaposition that is delicious goo Smoothie.

Strawberry seeds. Dirty slut mongering Strawberry seeds all up in my molars like a nosy step mother rifling through my sock drawers. Obnoxious, hateful, demon spawn pellets of mythical Valkyric pestilence.

But god damn, this is still a tasty smoothie.

Delicious goo!

Yes, it is true. I’ve been incognito for a long, looong time. And while I was off galavanting I started school, took a whirlwind trip to Europe to see Simple Minds, wrote half of my first novel, did a couple plays, continued to amass a gorgeous wardrobe, and sadly yes, gained fifteen godamned pounds.

Well, what can you do? Set backs are just that. You trudge through them like the blizzards of February, with a shovel and pack of matches.

So I’m back with a vengeance as of today, cooking up Ham and Orzo Salad, working out like a slender bombshell, and writing the truth of my furious fall from grace. Don’t think I feel sorry for myself. I’m the one who stuffed that cheeseburger in my mouth at 1′o’clock in the morning, repeatedly, for months. Now, I deny you cheeseburger.

You have no power over me.

As promised, I bring you the expanse of my culinary know how, one small note card at a time.

Ham and Orzo Salad

1 packaged ham steak

1 cp. Orzo (whole wheat orzo is preferred)

4 Tb. Light Ranch Salad Dressing

1/4 cp. Light Sour Cream

1 pckge frozen mixed veggies (Steamfresh brand size)

1 generous pinch of salt for boiling water


Directions:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Slap the Ham Steak on a rimmed baking sheet or in a baking pan, cook for 10 minutes or until hot all the way through. Bring full pot of salted water to a boil. Add Orzo to water, cook for 8 – 10 minutes, depending on level of al dente you prefer. (If you like crunchy pasta, we’re in a fight.) Pop Steamfresh veggies in the microwave, cook for 5 minutes.

If timed appropriately, all should be ready about the same time.

Strain Orzo, chop up hamsteak into cubes trimming away all excess fat and gristle. (Well, pseudo cubes, it doesn’t need to be perfect, ladies and gentlemen.) Dump all ingredients into same bowl: Orzo, cubed ham and full bag of veggies. Now, add your sour cream and ranch dressing to the mix, stir until thoroughly combined, devour. It’s like chinese food, yummy while hot, but equally stellar while cold.

Number of Servings: 8

(Number of Points each serving is worth in Weight Watchers speak: 3 – 4 pts.)

So get at it people! This salad ain’t gonna make itself.


DSC_0002…are the devil.

The delicious, rich, and succulent devil.

Bullocks!

Current Weight: 184.2

Current Level of Muffin Top in my Size 10 Jeans: Soon, when I do my piece on Muffin Tops…you will see.

I’m just going to throw this out there; Diet Ginger Ale? It isn’t fecking Ginger Ale.

It’s swill! Nauseating miscreant wannabe version of true flavor. I deny you dietary sodas! Well, normally I deny all soda, but I fear today, the presence of a Ginger Ale called to me and the longing in my heart won over my knowledge that the only satisfaction it would bring me was a good, body shaking belch, which I never have anymore since I gave up soda.

I had that. Twice so far. Yet, I have a third of the can left and I am pretty sure my intoxication with the beverage is well and gone.

Back to water we go.

It’s like those diet foods they market in the freezer section. They all claim to have only so many this or only so many that, but it turns out, to compensate for a complete absence of actual food or flavor, they douse it in Salt (sodium). I’d rather make an order of my homemade Turkey Taco Bake and gorge myself on that for a few days. Or even better, Ham and Orzo Salad! Hell yeah.

Wait, you don’t know these recipes. You’re losing out.

That shall be remedied. I will make them both by week’s end and post them (with alluring culinary photography) and you may bask in my culinary exploits with me! (And my household will be chuffed. Who doesn’t like good food in the fridge when you’re hungry? I mean, really.)

Current Weight: 184.4

Current Level of Muffin Top in my Size 10 Jeans: Did you see the bubble butt in the previous post? Then you know…

So, perhaps buying three pounds of limited edition Lindt Chocolate wasn’t the best thing for my dietary behavior, but god damn it, misbehaving has never tasted so rich…and creamy. Still, I am not going overboard, I ate three of the bastards today and savored them like an exiled Frenchmen enjoys abrasive greetings.

Yet, the main event of my day (dietarily speaking, that is) was;

The Fridge.

Tell the truth, when was the last time you cleaned out your fridge? Mine was at least two months ago, if not longer. I was pulling ancient Italian subs and Chinese Food cartons outta there and tossing them directly out the door. If there is anything more putrid and unpleasant than a rotten vegetable drawer, I don’t want to know what it is. My fridge is now a haven of culinary bliss. No more gnarly hatred whenever I open the fridgerator door. Now, when I open the door I think, “Yum, scrambled egg whites or a bowl of Special K,” instead of, “Damn! I ain’t going in there. Let’s go get iHop.”

Good times.

Having a cleaned out, organized and fresh feeling fridge is a good start to getting your health in order. When you pack the freezer with microwave meals, that’s not living, by golly.

Cook!

Eat!

No…Dine!!

And in your own home where there isn’t a six pound chunk of butter in every order of Caesar Salad. I can’t wait until tomorrow when I actually choose homecooking for the first time in weeks. Unless of course, that Cucumber and Tomato Salad at the Athenian Corner sings her siren song in my ear all day. Then we might have a problem.

But hey…at least it’s a salad.

Current Weight: 183.8 (again indeed)

Current Level of Muffin Top in my Size 10 Jeans: There may be reason to celebrate soon.

Then again, perhaps not that soon, but soon either way. I can honestly say I have misbehaved myself to the point of obnoxious today. I ate mall food, mall cookies, then proceeded to blow $30 on a steals worth of Lindt Limited Edition Chocolates (for the freezer…and my face) and then ate at least seven of them over the course of the day.

They are delectable.

Still, as a result I am posting this and then hitting the serious weight training before bed. Turn some of the sugar into jet fuel before it turns me lethargic.

So, since I don’t have my good eating behavior to talk about today, I will instead showcase my good behavior (well, sort of) in the clothing department.

A LESSON IN SIZE (clothing size, that is)

Wear the right one.DSC_0007

Here is my reasonably flat ass in a size 14.

What ass? Where exactly is your ass, Caitlin? Oh, I assure you, it is hiding in there somewhere.

Lesson to learn here: Sure, big and comfy is very comfortable and having to wear a belt to keep your pants from falling down is all well and good, in theory, but when a member of the opposite sex couldn’t find your butt with a shovel and a metal detector if he wanted to ogle it, we have a problem. Clothes are supposed to accentuate and compliment your figure, whatever its shape or size.

Rounding down can be worse.

DSC_0009

My seemingly bubble butt now squeezed into a size 10.

Lesson to learn: A size too small displays you in a way you…well…I don’t want to be seen. That relatively flat ass I referred to (thank you for my genetic inheritance, Dad) has suddenly become Bubble Butt; soothslayer of all evil. Instead of swimming in a sea of denim we now find ourselves with every nook and cranny of our bum on display for the world. It is far from a better option than wearing the aforementioned clown pants, so let’s find the solution to this saggy/bubble problem.

DSC_0011

Here, we find, my ‘perfect’ butt in a perfect size 12.

Lesson: Wear your size. Take the time and a good friend to go find out what that is. That good friend needs to be unafraid to tell you what you’re putting across to the world; MC Hammer or Link Sausage. The pants I am wearing in this picture are, in all honesty, size 11 and from the juniors section. Took ages to find the right cut of pant/jean for my unique ass shape. (Had the same epic adventure trying to find the right undies…hipsters if you were wondering.) It is worth shopping at a Levi’s shop or a department store with good jean selection to find the right cut so you can work that ass to the best of its ability.

Or…you could just wear clown pants. You’re choice.

Current Weight: 183.8  (Woot!)

Current Level of Muffin Top in my Size 10 Jeans: In magic knickers I might actually be able to get away with wearing them. But I want to do more than just ‘get away’ with it.

Are you as flabbergasted as I am that I went down, of all things? Guess that goes to show what a jackass you can be as long as you only eat when you’re hungry. Well, in theory anyway. I’m contemplating adding the % of body fat to my stats, but the concept of body fat % just confounds me. When I started losing weight initially, I was over 50% (can’t remember how much more). The idea of that boggles me.

SO, as you will come to expect from me, I am doing some research this evening to get things squared away.

Description Women Men
Essential fat 10–12% 2–4%
Athletes 14–20% 6–13%
Fitness 21–24% 14–17%
Acceptable 25–31% 18–26%
Overweight 32-41% 27-37%
Obese 42%+ 38%+

Well, there we go…and here I am having a sudden epiphany. I’m only just squeaking into the ‘Overweight’ category as of right now. (My percentage, as far as my home scale is concerned, so it might not be perfectly accurate, is 42% today. Was 41% the day before. That’s what happens apparently when you don’t work out for a couple days. Point taken.)

So, wait…I am a size twelve, which is considered average woman size by American standards, yet by this table’s calculations, I am still considered obese?

Well fuck body fat %! Body fat percent can suck my balls!

0814-lizzie-miller_vgAnd on a happy note, this picture was featured recently on page 194 of Glamour magazine. This picture is of a ‘plus-size’ model who wears a size 12-14.

Her stomach made me smile from ear to ear.

I have that stomach. And I’ll be honest, I still have days when I hide that stomach. Not anymore, motherfuckers!

Suddenly, a whole decade and a half worth of media based self biases have crumpled away.

Hell yeah we ladies have bellies! Suck it world.

Suck it hard.

I am a mother (you can catch a glimpse of my wee one on the Obese Venus page. She is now four) and when she was born I weighed nearly 300lbs. I found out a few days ago that my daughter doesn’t remember me big.

All during breastfeeding and the process of her turning into a person, I was a very large girl. I began purposefully working on my own health and happiness when she was 14 months old and the old ball and chain hit the road. By the time she was 2, I had lost fifty pounds (well, 220lbs if you count my ex-boyfriend in the mix). In the entire time I was working to go down in weight, I never made my goal “Getting Skinny”. I don’t use the word ‘Skinny’. I also don’t use the word ‘Fat’. I actually gave her grandmothers a hard time when they used the word to describe themselves around her. Self-deprecating is fine in jest. Call yourself a pain in the butt, but never call yourself ‘fat’.

Somehow, I felt it was just as negative to call yourself fat as it was for some asshole on the playground to do it. Did I want my daughter to see her own loved ones beliddling themselves? Not particularly. I wanted her to love people as they were; large, small, quick, slow. I wanted to spare her thoughts that were contrary to her sense of adoration for them. Weird, I know…but I am glad I did it.

She is now four years old and my daughter doesn’t know the words ‘fat’ or ‘skinny’. We were looking through pictures on the computer this week and I found some shots of us together when she was a wee baby. She saw the pictures, her eyes grew wide and she gasped.

“Momma! You used to have a big belly?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And now you have a little belly?”

I smiled at this, given that this is how my daughter conceptually called me a sleek bombshell. Well, that’s what I’m going to take it as anyway.

“I suppose I do,” I said. Didn’t say another word about it.

That’s my random happy for the day. Good to have, wouldn’t you say?

Current Weight: 184 even

Current Level of Muffin Top in my Size 10 Jeans: In magic knickers it isn’t visible from space or anything.

Given that I am keen on treating myself like a divine goddess, I spent the morning getting a mani/pedi (despite the hideous faces I pulled while the lady attacked me with a nail file, my toes look adorable. Someone should just tell me I am WAY too ticklish to be letting random Vietnamese ladies touch my feet with blade and sand paper.) I figure it goes with the whole ‘pamper yourself’ mantra I adopted as a part of my years long ‘transformation’ (as mentioned previously, here). I have scheduled myself a haircut and eyebrow wax next Wednesday as well (the first eyebrow wax of my life. Believe me, you will be updated) to continue in that pampering vein.

Speaking of pampering oneself (aah, sarcasm), I ate half a medium cheese pizza today, a Pizza Hut medium pan cheese pizza. I then downed half an order of chocolate dunkers to show that pizza he wasn’t being paid special treatment by any means, there were OTHER objects I would happily be stuffing in my face! Side effect of finding a gift certificate to Pizza Hut in your wallet from last Easter.

Still, I then roamed around Salem, Massachusetts on foot for an hour or more, taking pictures and peeking into the corners of tourist oblivion, so it wasn’t an all bad day. Though, I just got home from my busy outings and drank my very first glass of water for the day. Just now, after supper…just now. How lame and counterproductive is that? I am a water nazi, normally! Especially after the past few days, but apparently the pizza’s evil side kick Ginger Ale won. I will catch up on that water intake as the evening progresses.

I hereby swear to hydrate the crap out of myself (pun not intended this time) AND do sit-ups until I feel my ass has been adequately kicked. Huzzah!

Today was apparently one of those “don’t follow your own rules too strictly” kind of days. When I weigh myself in the morning we shall see what a pizza, some dunkers, and a ginger ale will do to an otherwise downward sizing waistline. Fingers crossed!

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