Because I started a diet . . . the sequel

Back in November, I decided to go on Weight Watchers. 

I acquired two accountability partners, whom I lovingly refer to as my two mean friends.

Since then, we have gained another mean friend.

And, as a result of this, there are presently three people in this world who know exactly how many pounds I weigh.

Oh, and the entire pediatrics office.

But that weigh in does not count, since I hadn't cleaned out my ear wax or taken off my boots.

Anyways . . .

I started this diet in November.

And I had a little trouble committing to my goals.

Mostly because I really want to eat one of these:

For they are God's gift to cheeseburgers.

But I have not eaten one of those delicious sandwiches for months and months.

And I did fairly well on the diet.

I lost about 4 pounds.

But then Christmas came.

And I have put on 3.8 pounds back.

Darn.

So, now we have to start all over again.

I am focusing on firming up my tummy area.

It has gotten a little fluffy.

You know . . . on account of these creatures:

They have forever ruined my bikini body . . . not that I ever had one.

So, I am always frustrated with my tummy.

One day,  The Lumberjack came home from work and informed me of some news he had heard on Dr. Laura.

Dr. Who?

Wow.

The Lumberjack listens to Dr. Laura.

Who knew?

Someone had called in and was complaining of tummy fat.

Dr. Laura recommended something called the weighted hula hoop.

"Hey, Hon."

That's me!  He calls me hon!

"You need to get a weighted hula hoop.  Dr. Laura said."

Now, when your stomach fat gets so bad that your husband has resorted to listening to talk radio and he is now giving you fitness tips, it is time for you to get up and do something about it.

So, this is now my life:

Alert:  that is not the Lumberjack's Wife in the  above picture.

I repeat.

That is not me.

This is me:

Anyways, you are supposed to exercise with this thing for 10 minutes twice a day.

But by golly, it hurts!

My hips are totally bruised.

My neck hurts.

My head hurts.

My shoulder hurts.

Can this be normal?

Perhaps I am using it wrong.

I am about to introduce my three mean friends to another plump friend and go eat me one of these:

Because I am 92% sure my stomach fat will never leave me.

And my neck hurts.

 100 (meaningless) points to anyone who can tell me why my neck hurts.

200 (meaningless) points to anyone who can tell me of a surefire way to lose this tummy

1 million (meaningless) points to anyone who can score me a free tummy tuck.

Name that reality tv mom.

Unbelievable.

The following are true happenings.

You may find them hard to believe.

But, they are true . . . oh, so true.

1)  I know the person who created this pattern:

Is that not the cutest thing ever?

I cannot even sew the patches on my girls' Awanas vests.

Check out her site:  www.beansproutcreations.com

I don't just know of her.

I know her know her.

We all know how joyous coffee is.

But think of how much more joyous it would be when you have that darling little owl sleeve on your cup!

And she even has a matching glove pattern.

Incredible!

2)  The last three times the Lumberjack and I have rented a movie, we have picked one that we thought we had not seen, but 20 minutes into it, one of us decides we have seen the movie.

Then we bicker over whether or not we have actually seen aforementioned movie.

Then we watch it for a few more minutes to ensure we have really seen it.

Then we fall asleep on the couch.

What has become of our life together, Mr. Lumberjack?

3)   In my lifetime, I have cut my eyebrow in half . . . not once, but twice.

The first time during my freshman year in high school.  It was a tragic event where I confused a tiny pair of scissors for tweezers.

Grooming is difficult for me.

The second time was last month.

And I would prefer to not share anymore.

4)  Speaking of beauty products, I was afraid of make-up in junior high.  All my friends started wearing it and I began to feel left out.

But I was retarded with makeup.

So my mother bought me clear mascara.

Raise your hand if you did not even know clear mascara existed.

Good.  All of you. 

Now, raise your hand if you don't even know what the purpose of clear mascara would be.

Good, class.

Raise your hand if you are not surprised that I poked myself right on the eyeball with said mascara each and every morning.

Good.

I have issues.

5)  I was a cheerleader in junior high.

6)  I started taking piano lessons at the age of 12 . . . a little later than most children. 

I loved it. 

I continued with the lessons through my junior year in high school. 

For my last recital, I played a 13-page performance of Celine Dion's, "My Heart will Go On" from the Titanic.

I don't wanna brag, but I brought down the house.

Of course, my competition was 6-8 year olds who were butchering "Twinkle-Twinkle Little Star."

After my award-winning performance, I was swarmed by those 6-8 year olds, wondering how I could play so well.

Well, girls . . . I am twice your age.

And apparently I am a loser, because there is no one else here even near my age bracket.

But, don't worry.

I let myself have my moment of glory.

I shook their little hands, gathered my 13 pages of sheet music, held my head high, and walked out of there a star.

And I never performed again.

 7)  And my final bit of unbelievable, yet very true news is:

I lost 3 pounds this week!

Who would have thunk it?

This:

 

is clearly no match for my iron-will like disclipline.

Thank you.

Thank you very much.