let's try this again

I was reunited with an old buddy last night. What I used to call my coat rack but is actually this ....

I bought this several years back when my company started giving us fitness allowances. Jeeze, nothing like telling a group of people they are too fat work here .... Anyway, I had a nice little corner in the living room of my last rental that just so happened to be at the front door. Because the only three times I ever got on the damn thing, the fucker tried to kill me, I decided it worked really well as a coat rack. And I am sooo not kidding about that. I'm scouring all my photo files to find a pic in the living room to attach. About two years ago, I was a little hard up for cash on Silly Sally's birthday, so I gave her my elliptical trainer. Not because she's a fat-ass and I was trying to tell her something (really, she's about 100 pounds soaking wet), but she's really into staying fit and I knew she'd use the machine for more than a coat rack. Well she didn't. Shortly after I gave it to her, she moved into an apartment where it wouldn't fit and it's been sitting in her storage room ever since. All lonely and shit. And I've fallen off the chubby busting wagon a-fucking-gain - eating chips, and wings, and chips, and fries, and carbs, and wings, and McDonalds, and feeling all disgusting. And am now on an all out panic because I HAVE to lose weight before summer but I've lost all motivation to work as hard as I know I can. I don't want to go to the gym 5 days a week and I don't want to give up the second serving of foods that I love. But I also don't want to be this dumpy anymore either. It's not me ... I supposed I'll have to come to terms with never being under 1?0lbs again. And if I can get to 1?0, I'll try to be happy. But I can't sit here, pushing 1?0lbs anymore. Not on my 5 foot, 3 inch tall frame. I can touch my pinky to my thumb around my wrists and can almost put my hand around my ankles for krissakes. My bras are 34" around, I am a tiny person up top and am supposed to be tiny all over. It does not look good that I carry 100+ pounds directly around my mid-section. My ass ok because seriously, I dig my own ass, but not my big fat fucking belly. If I didn't have such a fear of shitting at work, I'd sooo be on those weight loss pills that give you the runs and you poop grease. I'm trying this again ... 30 minutes a night on the elliptical trainer. And I wont even try to fool myself again by putting the damn thing in the basement thinking I'll use it everyday down there. I wont. There's no TV or anything in the basement and I fucking love my TV. My big-ass flat screen TV with 150 channels. So, the elliptical is back in a corner of my new living room. Right at the front door again. But this time, it's facing away from the door where I know I wont be so inclined to walk around it to hang my jackets on the handles.

google search til you're satisfied

If I want to find out about virtually anything, I pop on to google. If I don't like what I find, I simply hit the back button and search again ... and again and again, until I find the answer I want. Works everytime.

Take last night for instance. I wanted to find out appoximately how many calories I am burning while doing my new fave cardio routine ... the mini-tramp. The first few links I came across stated that the mini-tramp is actually a less effective work out because of the springs. The bouncing motion absorbs most of the "work out" so to speak so less calories are burned. I disagree. I believe that after a 28 minute work out that took 3 additional minutes of laying near death with burning skin and sweat pouring off my head and in between my boobs, breathing like T-Bone does after a long session for another ten minutes that I burnt off a lot of fucking calories. Granted, I don't just bounce up and down on the mini-tramp, or slow-dance, I give 'er. Fast and Hard. With a 5lb weight in each hand. And thank god for the springs, really, my bladder and my hips appreciate them (wtf is up with my weak urethra since I gave birth anyway .. sheesh .. that's a whole other blog though). So I continued my google search until I found what I was looking for.

"Oh you want to know how many calories that is exactly? Okay a 150 pound woman working out on a rebounder stands to burn 410 calories. Were she to spend the same amount of time jogging shse'd burn through only 355 calories." (http://www.meltofftheinches.com/)

Yes, I can always count on google searches. For anything. Sometimes what I find doesn't make much sense .. like this for example:

Which I found by doing in image search on 'mini-tramp', but whatever.

And sometimes, I really hit the jackpot while google searching. I took the mini out of mini-tramp and found this, seriously? How fitting for this blog .... damn I'm good:

immediate satisfaction

Word of the day: malversation

That has absolutely nothing to do with what I'm writing, but I had to use dictionary.com once while typing this up and decided I'd share the word of the day .. And no, I don't have time to tell you what it means.

So, I'm trying to work this ass off ... well, not the ass itself, because honestly, men dig my ass, but I am trying to get rid of this spare tire, or my inner-tube really. A tire actually looks quite hard & solid, even though round. My inner-tube ... well, it's soft & squishy, and even more round. And it needs to go. Since I posted my last blog about Chubby Busting, which btw, was not titled to be dirty in anyway, although after Mr. Daddy's interest in the blog just because of the name, I have to admit that I was a little disappointed in myself for NOT thinking of that first because my mind is always in the gutter. See ... I am now picturing a real chubby getting busted and probably need to booty-call T-Bone over asap to bust his chubby. Have I gone too far? Maybe I should just get back to what I was writing .. where was I? Right, losing my inner-tube. I've been to the gym four times since I started thinking I am gettin pretty fat and I have replaced some bad eating choices with good eating choices. I'm feeling pretty good about it too. However, my gym was not open yesterday, and today it just closed. At 4pm? Wtf? I want to go to the gym NOW. Not tomorrow, NOW! And No, I don't want to go for a long walk or do any exercises at home? NO! This sudden urge for immediate satisfaction is obviously why I am chubby busting (tehehe) and I never realized it before. Okay, I realized it, but never identified it. I am actually having what Oprah would call an "Ah-ha" moment this second as I type.....

When I stop at Winners because I feel like I need a new shirt and I'm in a decent mood, I will find a shirt. Maybe two. But Winners is cheap, so that's ok. But when I go into Winners and I'm in a pissy mood, I will still find that shirt. But I will also find four more. Two pairs of pants. A pair of shoes. And a jacket. I am immediately happy. And I feel the $200 was justified because "I deserved it". "I work hard for my money". And "I don't spend a lot on myself". (You do know that I pay someone to clean my house don't you? ... See ... Immediate Satisfaction!) I usually return at least half of what I bought because I also suffer from severe buyers remorse most of the time. I've done the same thing with drinking in the past ... Been out at a drinking function (like a friends birthday where everyone is getting shit faced), though not having a good time yet, pound back a few shooters, go home and all of a sudden, I had the best night evah! Immediate Satisfaction. Hell, I've done it with sex too. I'm in the mood. T-Bone is not. Really really not. I get mad. Not necessarily that he wont take care of me (seriously, would it kill them to hop on top for the 60 seconds it would take in those dire situations?), but that he wont take care of it, and he wont leave the room so I can. Ok, now even I think I went little far with that comment, but it's kinda like that. A little bit. Ok, not really, but you get the point. I get the point. Immediate Satisfaction. Now, to link this to my chubby busting issue, I obviously do the same with food. French fries, chips, etc. I want what I want NOW, or never really. But I usually get or do what I want NOW because I know the excitement will die right away and then it wont matter. But for that moment, it matters. It matters big time. I have driven to the corner store at midnight to buy chips on more than one occasion. Hmmmm ... very interesting how a blog I had no clue I was going write is all of a sudden written. I really just popped on to complain about the gym being closed. Anyway, I still want to be at the gym NOW and am not happy that it's not open, so to make myself feel better, I'd like to hop on the couch and remain there until Sydnerella comes home from her friends so we can colour eggs. Immediate Satisfaction. But I wont. Not this time. I have two loads of laundry to finish, grocery shopping (which includes shopping for the Easter Bunny .. and that means I am going to be eating tons o lindor chocolate over the next 24 hours), and I do have a mini-tramp in front of my TV ... I really have no probelm jumping on that thing for an hour while watching Sex & the City re-runs. And hey, if I order something nasty on pay-per-view, I can kill two birds with one stone ... just saying .... Immediate Satisfaction!

Yes, that's me .. seriously. Look at that ass ... daaaamn!

chubby busting

Well now I've gone and done it! I am 4 pounds away from the weight I was at the end of my pregnancy. Yikes doesn't even begin to emphasize how I feel about this. And so begins the mission. The choice has been taken out of my hands. I'm outta control. I blogged twice about this, or maybe more, but it was back in September when I realized that I was on a bumpy road straight to fatness, see here if you want, and maybe even here if you're really bored, and just to let you know how bad it's gotten, the fat pants I'm talking about there hurt my belly now. So I start today (Tuesday really because that's when I started this blog post). Already a visit to the gym behind me and my chips are all in the garbage. Let me repeat that ... MY CHIPS ARE ALL IN THE GARBAGE!

I was going to start an entire new blog for this because I figured not everyone who reads me will be interested in these blog posts, and because I will be posting my real weight, and possibly real pics of my big fat gut, which I'm still not sure I want on here. But ya know what? Too bad. I chose the URL for a reason ... stacyinprogress, and dammit, this will be my progress. I'll also add the label "chubby busting" to all weight loss related blogs and format them a little different. So for anyone that isn't interested can just skip it. Also, I'm not looking for negative comments from those who are heavier than me, either by a little or a lot who think I'm not overweight just because I'm not 300lbs. Or even 175. This is my battle and my blog. And I'm sitting at a weight that I am not comfortable with. With a belly that is bigger than all the pregnant womens bellies in my office - even the ones that are close to popping. And to be fair, I'm also not looking for comments for anyone 90lbs soaking wet who's never ripped the ass out of a pair of jeans just by putting them on telling me that I should do this, and shouldn't do that. I know exactly what I have to do, exactly what I should do, exactly what I wont do. Which I guarantee is going to cause some eye rolling or head shakes at the very least (because I haven't yet decided to cut too many calories out of my diet). So I suppose, in saying that, please comment all you want, when I am grumpy & bitter over my lack of potato chips, I will need someone to get pissy at

Todays weight: A lot. Goal weight: um, I really don't give a shit what the scales say, I'd just like to get to a weight where maternity clothes don't seem like such a fantastic idea. See my chub is not distributed evenly at all this time ... not my first rodeo ladies and gentlemen ... only this time, for some odd reason, all 3000lbs of fat is sitting in my fucking belly .... and No, there are no babies in it. I already checked.

Here's a little funny reading for ya that I was e-mailed yesterday, nice & fitting:

WARNING TO ALL WOMEN!

You've heard about people who have been abducted and had
their kidneys removed by black-market organ thieves.

My thighs were stolen from me during the night a few years
ago. I went to sleep and woke up with someone else's thighs.
It was just that quick. The replacements had the texture of
cooked oatmeal. Whose thighs were these and what happened to
mine? I spent the entire summer looking for my thighs.
Finally, hurt and angry, I resigned myself to living out my
life in jeans. And then the thieves struck again.

My butt was next. I knew it was the same gang, because they
took pains to match my new rear-end to the thighs they had
stuck me with earlier. But my new butt was attached at least
three inches lower than my original! I realized I'd have to
give up my jeans in favor of long skirts.

Two years ago I realized my arms had been switched. One
morning I was fixing my hair and was horrified to see the
flesh of my upper arm swing to and fro with the motion of
the hairbrush. This was really getting scary - my body was
being replaced one section at a time. What could they do to
me next?

When my poor neck suddenly disappeared and was replaced with
a turkey neck, I decided to tell my story. Women of the
world wake up and smell the coffee! Those 'plastic' surgeons
are using REAL replacement body parts - stolen from you and
me! The next time someone you know has something 'lifted',
look again - was it lifted from you?


THIS IS NOT A HOAX. This is happening to women everywhere
every night.


WARN YOUR FRIENDS!

P.S.: Last year I thought someone had stolen my Boobs. I was
lying in bed and they were gone! But when I jumped out of
bed, I was relieved to see that they had just been hiding in
my armpits as I slept. Now I keep them hidden in my
waistband.


P.P.S.: Those same thieves come in my closet and shrink my
clothes! How do they do it???