What to you get when you mix....

A baby, a Yale graduate and an ex-marine dog trainer together? My most recent dating history. Well not all of it but at least the ones I am willing to share for now.

If you are catching up from my previous blog about my dating endeavours you will notice that I have some updates and fresh nicknames. First, gobble gobble is history we only spoke briefly but as I mentioned to a friend, sometimes I get carried away and don't even know what I am saying anymore so when I asked if he caught any of his family members on fire while frying their Thanksgiving turkey, he passed on further conversation. I don't blame him.

Winter sports (formerly known as Lassie) is also gone. This one is more of a sad case. I actually liked winter sports, he was extremely handsome, seemed to have his life together and was nice to talk to. However, somewhere between not answering all my questions and when I tried to look up his facebook and found it photoless, I convinced myself he was married with children and didn't want to get chopped up into little pieces so I abruptly stopped talking. Yep just never answered again.... I know, this is probably how people get complexes.

Yale (formerly snowmaggedon) and I actually made it out for drinks. I was a little worried about this one as I know where my smarts start and finish, and they never finished at Yale University as his did. So after being convinced by several friends to just go with it, I did... and well, it went something like this. Yale shows up a little late in a 3 piece suit and a fabric tie. Its Friday did I mention? I tried to make light of the idea that casual Fridays were a regular practice in my office hence my attire, but then realized I wasn't the one out of place at The Big Hunt, so I let it go. When he got around to asking me what I did after he mentioned his extensive background in education, I spoke about the non profit I work for. And then he pulled out a chart that looked like this:









Kidding. But he might as well, because he started quizzing me on percentages in the red and blue states because it was "acceptable since we live in DC." Is it? It doesn't matter, I didn't have the answers to most, so I made up a lot of stuff. If they gave A's in bullshitting, I would have been on the Dean's list. Needless to say after a rousing conversation about teen pregnancy, I told him to just go to my home town of P.G. county to get real facts and then we could be done with this conversation.... ok kidding again but that is what I was thinking. Anyways, I think my eyes began to cross as he was talking because his fabric tie started to look like it was becoming 3-D and jumping out at me. Time to go.

So Yale is gone. I ended up going out with China as well- I hadn't mentioned him because he popped up out of no where and we actually went on a couple dates. Then after admitting that I had lost some weight on an earlier date, this jabroni actually tells me some story of his neighbors childhood as a fat kid and I nearly punched him in the eyeball. Are you dense? Never.... never make fun of a fat person to a former chub. There were many other things that went wrong after the second outing, but I think you get the point.

I felt a renewal of energy this week and began conversations with a few new people. But all of the sudden this baby used the IM function and totally caught me off guard. After asking me if I thought age mattered, I said sort of since he was 5 years my junior, but I suppose it was really about the maturity level. He asked if we could chat some and see where it went. I agreed but was immediately regretful once I looked at his profile.... I interrupted his typing..."Ahem, I'm really sorry, I know I said we could chat some but I just looked at your profile and not only am I 5 years older than you, but you live an hour away and you are 2 inches shorter than me. This doesn't have a shot in hell." And then I immediately logged off. Between you and me, as most women would say, it was the 2 inches that mattered the most.

So what have I learned so far? Nothing.

The United Nations

That's what my 'dating' life is looking like right about now. I am not sure if it is that I don't have a type, or that I am so indifferent that I talk to everyone. I can at least say that I may be getting closer to world peace. All I need now is a Native American and maybe a Jew.

It looks a little something like this:So part of this blog is supposed to be about being single. UGH... even the word leaves a bad taste in my mouth. To be fair, it isn't all bad- I quite often listen to some stories by my coupled friends, who for the sake of me keeping those friendships shall remain nameless, that make me happy that I don't have to go through some of the woes of being connected to a better... or worse... halve.

In any case, to be completely open minded and frankly to get my new body out on the market as quickly as possible before I decide to let myself go again, I am trying online dating. Hmm... I know what you are thinking.... online dating?? Aren't there a bunch of creepies on there??? Yes. There are. I have spoken with a few of them, blocked some others, and took out restraining orders on the rest. Kidding.... sort of. But for your information, there are creepies everywhere. Can I get an AMEN from my small population of still single friends out there???? Anybody? Yes? No?... ok anyhow, there are because I have also met them. So why not rip the band aid off quickly and meet them all at once?

So I have been on a few dates, they were less then stellar to say the least. I have a tendency to nickname my potential mates, and so far Craigslist, Bruce and Bear Grils have all been big fat let downs. Something about being able to club a rabbit really never appealed to me. I am currently speaking with a few people right now, which could backfire since I usually can't remember what I said to someone 5 minutes ago let alone to several people over a span of a couple days. Thank goodness this website provides some sort of history of communication to remind me what foolishness I have said to these poor strangers.

On deck Lassie, Gobble Gobble, The winker, and Snowpocalypse. I believe the word may have gotten out that I am trying to have a social life beyond my social circle and some coworkers of mine have eluded to possible dates for me. Just yesterday our HR manager asked me out of her side eye.... "so whats your type?" (as to say is quietly some how made it less desperate for me) I responded with, "men." She giggled even though I was serious and said that there was a man in her neighborhood that jogs by her w/ his dog all the time and she thought he was very handsome. I responded with a dead stare and she then said "I'll take care of it." I am not sure what that means but if this is the criteria for setting me up, I'm screwed. Does she know this man??? Nope. Just thought he looked handsome. Serial killer? Could be- but definitely handsome. At least he has that going for him.

Lord. Buckle up and stay tuned!

I always knew Pikachu looked a little heavy set....

For some of you, this name is synonymous with the little yellow pokemon cartoon character from the late 90's?? Maybe 2000's but I have no idea because I didn't watch it. However Pikachu for me, is actually the name a woman in my WW meeting continues to write on her name tag. Yes, I said woman.... probably in her 40's or 50's. Anyhow, I wouldn't have anything to say about Pikachu if she wouldn't stop interrupting the meeting to mention that she is a giant alcoholic. Now... some of you may be going "aww.... that's sad." Stop it. Pikachu wants you to know that no one poured liquor down her throat and it was a choice and so is eating bad food. (Tell that to the women who sleep eat in the middle of the night only to wake up find that downed a who cake out of their fridge and didn't even get to enjoy it!) I digress....

So at first I found Pikachu endearing, she mention her drinking problem once or twice but said she was in AA and it was under control. Good for you! Drinking.. check..... weight control... check.... you are on a roll sister! However, it wasn't until this last outburst that it has occurred to me that she may or may not be drunk during our meetings. Please for a moment try to imagine the wicked witch of the west. No, I am not insulting her looks, I want you to think of her voice, slightly crackly and the tone and volume sort of go up and down at weird times. Anyhow, this is Pikachu's voice, only much sllllooooowwweeerrrrr. She is always rather disheveled looking, and sometimes wanders around the meeting before it starts talking to herself.

Has she fallen off the wagon??? I mean I know weight gain is tricky and frankly sometimes food is addictive, but have we really gotten to the point where we are likening our food cravings to binge drinking??? I wasn't ready to go there, but I like your style Pikachu. If you could get your random outbursts in check we might be on the same page. And well lets be honest, if I didn't have you to come in a return food you have purchased simply because you didn't like the taste, or try to offer me some after you have already opened it, hell I'm not sure who I would look forward to seeing every meeting.

So thank you Pikachu, on or off the wagon, you are just the right amount of bat shit crazy I need on a Saturday morning.

A Winter Without Fat

So not that I am complaining because obviously I am feeling great these days, but it has occurred to me that I as we say goodbye to these blissful warm summer days and roll into fall that the weather is starting to get a bit chilly.

Now I should be clear and say that my favorite season is fall. At least.... it has been. The changing of the season is one I have always looked forward to. However, recently I have realized that this season will be different than several seasons past..... I don't have my fat.

Why is this a problem you ask??? Well for one, my fat kept me warm. While all you skinny minnie's were strutting around in your stylish coats and fashionable scarves, I was waltzing around in my big ass north face fleece, getting rather warm underneath because I was a human incubator.

So not only has my condo not turned on the water heaters yet so I am walking around in my own house with six sweaters on a four pairs of pants..... its not even technically winter yet!!! If this is what I have to look forward to in the upcoming months in my now completely ridiculous looking over sized north face fleece that lets all the cold air up the bottom because I have no fat to keep it out and I am to cheap to continue buying "transition" clothes, I am going to be miserable!!

Therefore I am going to say the thing you aren't suppose to say when you are loosing weight. I miss my fat. Its official. You can say "Sara quit your complaining!" and I will say "BRRRRRR I can't talk because I am a human popsicle!"

Is it time for Popeye's yet?

Taco Hell

Helllooooo everyone- It has been awhile because Audrey and I have been working our tushies off and haven't had a chance to blog. I mean it, literally... tushies = gone.

Well sort of. They are still there but look much smaller than their original size. I digress, anyhow Audrey and I had a great weigh in so we thought it would be a great idea to ruin it by eating whatever we felt like. Okay so maybe that wasn't our original motive, in fact we started off fine, but somewhere down the line things went awry.

After making some mistakes at Ruby Tuesday's for lunch we decided that we wanted Taco Bell for dinner. Now I haven't had Taco Bell in like a year or longer, the same goes for Audrey- so this pretty much had regret written all over it.

Reaching that counter was like reaching the finish line of a marathon. Now... to order. It was like riding a bicycle, I tossed out my selection like I had been ordering taco bell my whole life. Maybe because I had been, but whatever. To get the full picture of our experience, you must stop reading this blog and sit in silence for 15 minutes. This 15 minutes represents the silence that took place once we started eating.

I had nothing to say to Audrey, I was too busy shoving my face full of beefy glory. (I know what that sounded like, and I just don't care) I did pause once to look up at Audrey who then asked me how I was doing because I began to sweat and was breathing heavy. Upon realizing this I began to laugh uncontrollably and just repeat, "I am definitely going to vomit." To which Audrey replied, "Can I unbutton my pants?" Me: "Can people see your buttons?" Audrey: "No." Me: "Then go for it." It continued to go downhill from there. Audrey?

Audrey here. I'm in a blackout food coma right now and Sara is forcing me to blog. Seriously, I know we went to Taco Bell and I know I enjoyed it but seriously, right now the the beefy, beany, cheesy Taco Belly goodness has me all kinds of messed up.

To continue Sara's story. I look across the table and Sara looks like she might be ill but at the same time continues to soldier on and finish her meal. At this point I have demolished the smorgasbord of the food I ordered. I'm pretty sure I also blacked out and inhaled my food while we were there because I felt like there was a tray of food and then I came too and there I was dragging my finger across the Nacho Supreme tray licking off the last bit of nacho cheese with a trayful of used napkins and taco wrappers. All the while Sara is scraping the last bit of cheese out of her container with a spork. Don't judge us bitches.

Because this was a Chicken Bell, at some point Sara and I decided to take a second out of our low moment at Taco Bell to discuss the pros and cons of Popeyes and KFC and which was better. I believe the line from Sara was "I don't want to be friends with anyone who likes KFC." Me: "Really? Because I like KFC's sides better." Seriously, we will always be fat kids.

So at this point Sara is now looking a little green and using the rest of her napkins to wipe the sweat off her forehead and looks down at her tray and says "I need this to be gone." At which point Sara then promptly gets up, throws away her trash and walks out. By the time I reach the car, Sara is in the car with the door half open and with the air conditioning on full blast. I on other hand am seriously challenged getting to the car and nearly eat shit to which Sara yells at me "Stop making me laugh I am not out of the vomit zone yet!"

I'm seriously concerned that Sara is about to vom on her steering wheel to which I tell her: "If vomit comes spewing out of your mouth right now I am going to be soo disgusted." All I can think of is all of this is so ridiculous that it needs to be documented in photos. To which I ask Sara as she is now sitting half passed out with her pants unbuttoned in the car "Can I take a picture of you right now?" And thus I did. Check out below. You can see the aftermath of our Taco Bell Barf-Fest (and yes that is what I named this meal in my WW tracker.)



This is Sara looking particularly ready to hurl.


Let's face it this picture needs no caption.


And yes. My pants are unbuttoned.

The Accidental Jog

So I will make this one short and sweet. If you don't want to die, don't jog in really hot weather.

I don't ever follow my own rules, so here is how this one goes:

I was trying to figure out a way to make my puppy tired because she always looks at me like this:




And I wanted her
to look like this:








In any case, that lead me outside on Saturday at 2pm right around the time you would consider frying an egg on your own car. So we started walking through the trails (I had geared up in workout clothes only to avoid getting my regular clothes sweaty) and in no time I realized Olive was not anywhere close to tired.

And then something happened.... I started jogging. It wasn't on purpose but simply in an effort to tire my pup out quickly. And then I was jogging some more and before I knew it I was in a full blown work out. What was I thinking?!?! It was a gagillion degrees outside?!?! I wanted to punch myself but had zero energy to do so. By the time I started back home I was at the point of dehydration and considered licking a puddle.

When my tingly body finally got back to my house I was looking rough. I happened to notice my face was a separate shade of red then the rest of my body and I felt like I could spontaneously combust. As you can see here, I was at the very least trying to remain positive:









What ended up happening was delirium set in.... I cannot recall much after this last photo, but I am pretty sure it involved me running around my house with no clothes on and taking the longest straight cold shower I had ever had:












So! Lesson learned.... it would have been easier to sniff a Sharpie a few times to reach that type of bodily malfunction.

Hot as Balls Yoga

I mean hot bikram yoga. Ok so thanks to living social I let my friend Meghan convince me to join her for the deal of a lifetime! 5 classes of hot bikram yoga for $25 smackers.

Now for those of you that may not be familiar with this form of yoga, it is basically regular yoga in a room that is 105 degrees...... for 90 minutes. I'm not gonna lie, I failed to read that last part, so it was to my delight in an already hot room to find out I would be in there for over an hour. Yeesh.

So I went out with some friends the night before and like a good girl, I avoided drinking. The truth was I was so paranoid I would keel over and die, so I wanted to make sure I didn't reak of booze when it happened. Coincidentally I had an asthma attack that very evening for the first time in perhaps a decade after battling it out on the dance floor with 3 guys who were egging me on. Due to my state of sober, I participated to keep myself amused only to immediately regret all the showing off I did approximately 5 minutes after it ended (this was after I had to convince the main character to put me down in his attempt to out do me by picking me up off the ground.... if we have met, you know that is a huge no no for me).

In any case, I now had this lingering feeling that my asthma attack was Jesus's way of telling me to stay out of that hot room. I should listen to Him right? As I have done too many times before, I clearly did not take Jesus's sign to stay away and I participated anyhow. Ugh.

So Meghan and I get in the room, and at first, not so bad... very smelly, but not bad. I will say though after about 10 minutes I was left wondering why we went in so soon, clearly we had another 10 minutes before it got started. Then we begin. I can say that the very first thing I did which was put my arms over my head, I began to get dizzy and started seeing spots. WTF?!?! How the hell was I gonna make it through 90 minutes if I can't put my arms over my head after 10! Good gracious, fortunately I bounced back and Meghan and I trucked along slowly. We certainly weren't any yoga masters and had to take pauses here and there, but us out of shape ladies managed to NOT exit the room and stick it out for the entire session. Amazeballs. Truthfully, I would have felt just as bad had I done no yoga at all and just sat there in that crazy room.

I have never sweat that much in my life. My shins sweat, my toes and my forearms. Yeah.... all places you wouldn't think that would happen. I was one slippery beast after it was done. We took our red sweaty asses out to the lobby to chill and I pulled out a snack. Meghan promptly looked at me and asked if we could head to the car. Fine by me! I'm ready to get in the..... hooooaaahhhhh.....Meghan projectile vomits on the sidewalk. Oh shizzzz! Here it comes again... hoooaaahhhh.... in the grass.

She looks back at me and hands me her things as she begins to stumble to the car. "Well I hope... hooooaaaahhhhh..... this doesn't deter you from ..... hoooaaaahhhh.... doing this with me again."

No Meghan. It doesn't. :)

Plyo...medic!

I am currently typing this blog while trying to stay as still as humanly possible. Any slight move to the left or right is not an option. Not. An. Option.

How did I get this way you ask? One word. Plyometrics.

So I have been working out with my sister every Monday, I conveniently chose to do the easiest work outs on her set of p90x dvds because I'm a wimp. And frankly, no real person should look like that instructor.... no one.

So we normally work out our arms, abs or core which sounds like a lot but at this point several weeks in it has become bearable. So all during this process we have been discussing the plyometrics dvd that apparently no one wants to do with her since it is like Chuck Norris on crack. Lots of jumping, kicking, leaping... you name it. I however, like a total stupid idiot went a little crazy this past weekend due to a birthday party and felt the need to punish myself. I shot off the the text that would change my week forever "I think I'll join you for Plyo this week!" Duh dah duhhhhh.

She pounced on me in no time, "Awwww Sheeyat dude, you in for trouble then." I mean this is my sister, we grew up together (thank you captain obvious) this couldn't be any worse than the time when we were kids and she ran to the recliner when I was chasing her and plopped down, threw her legs in the air as I was still running towards her, and kicked me right in the kisser.



Wrong.


So I went over there and we got started. The warm up finished and frankly I felt like I was finished too. But I continued. I am not sure at this point whether or not it was my need to keep up with my sister that provoked me to finish or that I actually was doing good, so I kept going. Maybe both, but either way I would regret it for the rest of the week. At one point I was kicking in the air and nearly fell over on to my sister and repaid her the favor from 2 decades earlier. After I "leaped" over the river several times and sweat went directly in to my mouth and eye ball, I was over it. For the record, neither of those things feels or tastes good.

I opted not to lay still for to long for fear of not being able to get up and I can honestly say that after two days... the moral of this story is:
Call your sister and ask her to just kick you in the face. You would feel better by now.

Attack of the 40 year old man.

Ok folks its been a tough one, so I have to write cautiously as to not to let my bitterness of not losing any weight in the last month spill over into my blog. Is it working?

As I continue to jog regularly, with or without my lazy dog Olive (motivated only to run into Luigi again, see previous blog) I had a fun little encounter as I paused to put my hair up. All of the sudden I hear honking, and I look up and see two grown men sitting in a car they should have bought 20 years ago.

Exhibit A:


Let me please set the tone: I jog in Sligo Creek Park, which for those who are unfamiliar is a quiet path that runs through my neighborhood. Any time there is street close enough to the path, you certainly would not need a horn to get someones attention because it is quieter than that section in the library where you aren't even allowed to breath.

So to my confusion I look up startled, as clearly being short of breath had deprived oxygen to my brain at this point. They looked at me and began whistling and shouting. Yes. Whistling and shouting. Did I mention it was 10am on a Sunday? We are not in Ocean City, where are your manors?! So I dissolved the situation the only way I knew now. I quickly looked down at my dog and pointed at her, then with my best Oscar worthy performance I looked at her in shock and then back to the gentlemen in the tiny car, "Her?! I know she is quite the sexy beast isn't she!" My dog looked at me panting as usual with a face that can only be described as "are we done yet?", the men however were not amused at my antics and drove off at a speed which caused them to sound like their car was going to topple over the bridge as they took off.

Lesson learned? Maybe in ten more pounds I will get someone 10 years younger. This isn't my first encounter with the 40 year old man. It is a species that is still foreign to me, and while I would like to consider one for sugar daddy purposes, I don't think that realistically I can maintain that sort of lifestyle (I'm pretty sure trophy wives don't get away with wearing their chuck taylor's on a regular basis). I do realize that eventually I will have to stop using the term "you are old enough to be my father" since that would be really gross at the age of ten, and start excepting the silver foxes of the world.


But not yet.

So now we give bravo stickers for gaining weight?!

Its official. I have hit a wall. I knew at some point in this journey I was going to get angry at this system and I would boil over to the point of attempting to cut someone. That day is today. I had a feeling going into today's weigh in that I wasn't going to loose anything. But thats something we say to ourselves so that when we do loose weight we can be really excited. Except for when we don't loose anything. Ugh. I would like to point out that I am a very angry, hungry person who also recently quit a bad habit not related to food, so all in all am ready to kick a baby.

So with that said having today's meeting be about adding exercise to your week made me even more heated. Add exercise??? Add exercise??? When?!?!?!?! I am working out almost every day you bastards!!! Ok sorry... I digress. At one point in the meeting we all talk about scale or non-scale victories and the leader acknowledges them with stupid stickers. (I will say when I am in a better mood I am happy to accept these stickers).

So a girl raises her hand and give this long speech about how she had a cake decorator as a friend and had a cookout, blah blah blah, then "so I am proud cause I only gained .4 pounds!" Then everyone proceeds to clap. You can tell I have past the point of no return when "so we are giving bravo stickers for gaining weight now?" comes out of my mouth. I meant this isn't Weight Gainers lady. Harsh?? Sure. But you try doing zero exercise and eat negative one healthy foods and completely turn that around and be in a good mood when you loose zero. Ahhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ok so to get out some of this aggression I decided to go for a a jog with my dog. Something happened!!! A very cute italian man jogged by me (shirtless of course) who I have seen before. We will call the shirtless runner Luigi, since I have no clue what his name actually is. I awkwardly oogle him since he put it out there and then, Luigi looks at me a smiles while jogging the other direction "hey i've seen you before." I laugh like a doof, "Yeah".... thats all that came out of my mouth. Since I took his statement to actually mean "I'd like to make out with you" I suppose I found it hard to reply.

Its amazing what a very attractive shirtless man will do for the soul. In fact where the hell is that book?!?! Screw chicken soup.

Boogie Down the Pounds!

So in an effort to keep us motivated I decided that for a rainy day at Audrey's house I would pick up some workout dvd's since walking wasn't really an option. I had every intention of getting serious workout dvd's until I stumbled across this gem... Richard Simmon's Boogie Down the Pounds. The disco workout dvd. Jamming to 70's top musical hits. What. A. Find.

So I kept it a secret from Audrey since I wanted her to still be friends with me. Well I shouldn't have been so surprised to see how excited she was to participate... I mean, its Audrey. Duh.

So we start the dvd and at first we are slightly confused, Richard stumbles across his friends on the street who just happened to be standing outside of this building, that they all happen to walk inside of that is pitch black, then the lights start to fade on and you see disco balls and then poof!!!! We are working out.

Thats right... his friends didn't change clothes. Poof! working out. I'm talking full make up, some earrings, jeans or dress pants working out. How does one work out in such attire? We quickly realized that we were either really really in our element, or so far out of it we can't even see the element. On one hand this gave us both motivation that this workout will be easy. On the other hand, we just jazzed hands towards the tv and Richard told us how proud and happy he was we were there, so it could be a little bit of both.

There isn't enough blog available to describe this workout. Thats all I can really say. I have a feeling Audrey would like to say a few words since she had such a fun time 'diva-ing' this dvd out. Audrey?

O.M.G. Richard Simmons nearly killed me. When Sara revealed what her mysterious purchase was I was immediately excited. I thought "how can this NOT be fun?!"

How wrong I was! I had no idea doing Richard's "showgirl" move or his disco dance would so throughly kick my ass. By the middle of the DVD (that's right it was DVD not a VHS!) all I could think was "Fuck you and your little shorts Richard Simmons." (vulgar language is completely appropriate for this occasion).

If I been doing this by myself I would have quit during the boogie down the pounds version of Barry Manilow's Mandy but Sara made me finish it. Needless to say there was quite a bit of flailing happening on my part so I may have done more damage and good through my Richard Simmons work out as my back really hurt like a mother...

Despite all this, there is a good chance Boogie Down the Pounds will happen again. Let's face it I'm a glutton for punishment... (and also our next post will be about our venture to a "Latin Heat" class that made Richard's work out look PRE-TTY good in comparison....)

Genes and Collard Greens

Well hello everyone!

Audrey and I have been off losing so much weight we didn't have time to blog :) Okay thats not the truth, but we have been loosing weight! Rather than jinx our amazeballs progress, we will keep those numbers a secret for now... Unless of course you've been within earshot of me as I have been broadcasting my numbers the minute I step off the scale.(Sorry to those who have been subject to my constant announcement, I am clearly just in shock).

So I pondered whether or not I should try and catch you up on all the things that have happened since poor Audrey's pumpkin bread mishap. Instead I would rather just tell you about our most recent meeting. The meeting when things got real....

Yes, Audrey and I were aware that at some point during our chubby people AA meetings that someone, somewhere would stop making jokes about their need to eat poorly and in fact turn into debbie downers. Well.... it happened. I have to say I felt quite badly for the older woman who began to talk about her dislike of herself. But then.... like a ray of light someone interrupted.

"I just tell people that I get my bottom from genes and collard greens." Thank you. Thank you slightly insensitive woman with a big mouth. You have pulled me out of the suction of sadness and reminded me that I need to work on some sort of rhyme for myself. Although, genes and Popeyes just doesn't have the same ring to it.

Fireworks.

So it's been a rough week and Easter certainly didn't help. Audrey and I somehow managed to get up for our Saturday WW meeting after dancing around all night with Madonna and Lady Gaga impersonators for her birthday. I felt like I was living on the edge as my Saturday activities included getting up early to brush my teeth really well to try and impress my dentist (you know you do it too) for my 8:30am appointment with him then back to my AA meeting for chubby people at 10am.

Early in the week I attempted to work out again which this time included swimming with my cousin, but due to my sprained ankle and her pregnancy we were somewhere in between flailing shark victim and floating 80 year old woman.

So we sit through our regular meeting and at the end of every meeting there is a time for celebrating anyone's accomplishments on or off the scale. This is usually the time frame in which I dread. Not because you have to speak up but because they do this strange thing called fireworks. When someone has a really good weight loss week or they hit a goal and mention it during the meeting, the instructor usually turns to the group and says "what do you think, does this deserve fireworks?" In my head I'm thinking no you crazy B, we are inside a building... until I learned what it was and then I really wished that she had set off fireworks inside the building instead.

Everyone in the group in unison goes "OOOOooooooo AAaaahhhhhhhh!" Yes. We ooo and aahhhh at people when they do well. Except it always feels fake like the person next to you is really thinking "Bitch I wish that were me I haven't eaten Popeyes in a week and a half!..... ahem I mean ooooooo ahhhhhhhhhh, congratulations!" (not pulling from personal thoughts or anything) I can't even bring myself to do it yet. (Although, I caught Audrey's mouth moving the last time... I can't decide whether to give her credit for participating, or make fun of her because that's what we do).

I thought to myself, what if I just started ooooooing and ahhhhhhing at people when they told me things about themselves, or even a story maybe. For some reason I think this activity could get the crap kicked out of me, or possibly shanked. Think about it, if you came up to tell me about your day and how you just got laid off or something and then I went "OOooooo Aahhhhhhh." [Insert punch in the face right here].

SOoooooo why in the lord's name is it acceptable at this meeting? Can't we just clap, what the hell happened to clapping? I personally think this group could use every activity point we can get so why not lift our hands up and clap them together to congratulate someone on their success? While I have yet to unravel this mystery, I intend on making it clear at next week's meeting that I refuse to firework someone, I will however let you know how it goes when I start doing it to my friends.