"EVERY time I try to get out..."

No, that's a lie. Nobody pulled me back in. But I missed you, Internet. I missed you so hard it hurt a little bit, and I gotta say, I did not care for it.

So I started thinking: new year, new commitment to talking about things on the internet. Seems like an easier resolution than say, losing 30 pounds, so why the heck not.

For a blog that dealt so significantly with weight loss, it's probably the assumption of most readers that, when I stopped blogging, I started eating. But that's absolutely, totally and completely not true. I waited an additional three months to start eating, thank you very much.

After August and my last post here, I lost a few more pounds to hit a 2014 low of 144.2. I maintained an average weight of 145-148 throughout the fall, usually by exercising once or twice a week, dieting one or two days a week, and besides that, enjoying the fall and enjoying the holidays. It was glorious. It was terrifyingly busy. 

And then it was Christmas and somehow this morning I weighed 155.

But that's okay, because at some point this past year, if you don't count the last week or so, I lost about 32 pounds in 2014. And yeah sure, shut up, I gained 10 of that back (wow, that hurts my feelings to say), but what the heck would I even DO with my life if I didn't have 20 or 30 pounds to lose at any given moment?!?

I don't know.

My job.

Raise the kids.

Be a better human.

Blah blah blah.

Forget about all those crazy hypotheticals, because dang it, January is PRACTICALLY HERE, and it's time to lose 20 or 30 pounds again!!

Woohoo! Time to refocus my life on the things that really matter, like, for example, whether or not I have a muffin top. And world peace. Probably.

So today, 155.0. I did 100 jumping jacks this morning and very nearly died, and I’m back on the Slim Fast because I’m hoping my January 1 starting weight will be closer to 150 than 160, because at the rate I’ve been gaining this past week, there’s a fair chance I could see 170 before that ball drops.

And then I would have to cry, and no one wants to see that.

So anyway, happy fall, Halloween, Thanksgiving, winter, Christmas, and last couple days of 2014, folks. Hope you’ve had a great year, but if not, no worries. In 3 days, we all get hover boards.

Well that was a really dumb goal.

Jumped out of the shower today and started digging through my closet for some clean clothes to wear to work. Meaning of course, t-shirts and yoga pants need not apply. Found a shirt I haven't touched in forever, and low and behold, it fit. Woot! Bully for me! But I just couldn't for the life of me find a clean pair of jeans smaller than 14s but bigger than 4s. Harrumph. And that's when my eyes wandered up to the jeans I've had hanging over the bedroom mirror all week.

You remember those:

Should I? 

Just to try?

Well, this is probably going to make me cry, but whatever. I'm desperate. 

And it turns out that this:

So that was a really stupid goal. I mean, I'm 4 days into this new 30 day challenge, and doing well. But not that well. Not smaller jeans well. But there are two important factors at hand.

1) These jeans are stretchy. Like, almost one-size-fits-all kind of stretchy. I assume these jeans were built specifically to be Happy Good Mood Day Jeans. 

And

2) I'm afraid of my clothes and the feelings they make me have. I've got a good sized section of my own closet labeled "Don't Touch It, It'll Make You Cry". I have actually been afraid to try on clothes before, only to find that by the time I did, they were a little on the big side.

Needless to say, when I made these my goal, I had no real idea whether or not these pants would fit. All I knew was that last time I wore them, I was 5-10 pounds lighter than I am now. Which I assume means I'm getting super extra toned and sexy. You should see how hard I'm flexing right now. IT'S AMAZING. 

So although I'm glad I have clean pants on today, (dear heavens I hope I'm not compromising the structural integrity of these pants), this doesn't change anything. I still look pretty much exactly like I did in the last post, and I still have 26 more days of lunges and planks and crunches and tears and blood to go.

And I guess maybe I've learned it's time to  clean out my closet, try things on, and stop guessing what portion of my wardrobe is still "goal", and what portion is "work appropriate for today".

 No matter how much it's going to make me cry. 

Day 1 Again!!!! WOOOOOooooo... Boo.

I've been sitting around watching my husband lose 6 pounds off his already stupid stupid slim physique, while I sabatoged my own sad little attempts at weight loss by gorging myself on ice cream. (I earned it. Don't ask me how. I'm sure, SURE that I earned it.)

So today is, once again, Day One. I took some pictures for accountability sake. Or motivation sake. Or something sake.

Yikes. 

Yikes. 

Double yikes. Yikes.

OH. And I also took a picture of one of my bigger motivators right now. Something straight out of my memories:

The size 4 Express jeans I got in the fall of 2012, 6 months after Kid 2 was born and I had gotten 

down to 136 pounds. Dang I was good back then. 

The thing is that I'm getting really tired of remembering the good. I'm sick of fantasizing back on how good I felt, how comfortable I once was in my own skin. I want to stop remembering it and to start LIVING it again. I WANNA WEAR MY SUPER HOT BRAND NAME JEANS AGAIN, dang it!

So to go along with my diet and fit-it-in-when-I-can cardio, I thought I'd also do this:

I like the challenge thing because, well, last time I tried it, I did it, and then I was skinnier. And that's all I'm really looking for right now. Some kind of results, instead of none results.

So there you have it, there's my plan for late- August/ early-September.  Here's hoping for a fan-frick-TASTIC month and a super duper skinny fall, because, my friends, there will be pie. Oh yes, there WILL be pie.

Today is not going very well, Subtitle: Oh dear lord there is blood and urine everywhere

This morning has been a day. Quite, quite, quite a day. The house is a mess, I haven't slept well in MANY MANY NIGHTS, I have work to do and my computer is broken again because why not, and yes, there is blood and urine EVERYWHERE.

I'm so sleepy.

Maybe I should address the bodily fluids real quick. Kaden is potty training, and although he's giving it his bestest best shot, we had a little... big.... hugemongous accident this morning on the couch, which I learned about when I heard my boy screaming bloody murder and staring at his feet like they were being devoured by a dragon. But it was just pee, and we have a bathtub and a variety of carpet and upholstery cleansers at the ready so chill out Kid we are O. K.

Then we plopped down to read a book, all three kids climbing on top of me like I'm some sort of story telling jungle gym. I'm just getting to the good part, where the Snort somehow manages to deposit the baby bird back in his nest and he finally reunites with his mother (Sorry, should've said spoiler alert), when I look up and see the baby grinning like a maniac with a face covered in blood.

WELL THAT WAS TERRIFYING THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

Seems that last night when I ran to the store, he fell, bumped his mouth, and got a cut. Now it seems that, while he plays, he occasionally reopens the cut which causes him zero pain, but lots more blood, which causes me to very nearly lose my bladder control.

Also, seems he accomplished this same feat while in bed last night, and upon closer inspection, his crib looks like something Dexter might have fun with.

But I cleaned just about everything. And I managed to give the 2 year old to take a bath and try again to use the big boy potty "Haha, I DID it, Mahp!" (That's me, I'm Mahp), and got the baby to fall asleep in my arms so that he didn't go back to reopening his wound and making his bedroom look like the site of a violent crime.

Course, as I was writing that, the 2 year old had another accident, and the baby woke up screaming when he heard his brother screaming and their sister wants to know "WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!?"

I don't know, sweetie. All I can say is, at least this time, there was no blood.

Food Network, please stop making my ears vomit.

The tapping of a measuring cup on a bowl. The repeated scraping of a fork as it smooshes up a banana. Eggs cracking. Silverware jingling. Everything pouring and clanking and smacking and scraping and oh my heavens, I'm going to be sick.

Crap, someone's whisking another egg. Clankclankclankclankclank squishsquishsquishsquish.

And that's just the food. We haven't yet gotten into the audio assault that is Giada's (absolutely necessary I'm sure) Italian pronunciation of every third ingredient. "This dish is traditionally made with Moh-thaaaa-RRRRRRRRRRRRellia, but I think I'm going to substitute the wah wah wah cheese for an extra kick of wah wah waaaah....", Or of course the Barefoot Contessa's constant attempts to convince the world of her Guinness book worthy collection of Gay Friends. Oh, they just love to stop in with a glass of wine and help out. Aaaaaaaawwwwww.

Which of course brings us to the Food Tasting. The horrible horrible Food Tasting. Please zoom in on my mouth while I masticate through the dish I just prepared myself, and listen while I give Meg Ryan's "I'll have what she's having" performance a real run for it's money. YES! YES! YES!

Then please let me describe what I'm eating while chewing directly into a lapel mic, crunching, smacking, mmmming, and (not a joke) occasionally snorting, all for your listening pleasure.

Now, I get that you're using a visual/audio medium to sell a product that's not primarily meant to be consumed in that way, but FOR FRICKS SAKE, we know you think it's good. Trust me here, nobody needs to have a faux-gasm for us to believe you think your cooking is delicious. Besides, what else WOULD you say on a televised tasting of your own cooking? "Holy mother of pearl, what is this steaming pile of horse manure and who allowed me access to a stocked pantry and allowed me to inflict this upon the world and myself?!"  No. You're going to smile and moan and collapse onto the counter and convince me that I won't feel so lonely in the night times if I have your spinach and Prrrroh-CHOOO-to laced grilled cheese MASTERPEICE.

On the other hand, thanks a ton, Food Network, since I'm supposed to be on a diet, and you may have just put me off the whole concept of food forever.

Day 4: Hulk LOVE Diet. Maybe Hulk need mood stabilizers.

Yesterday's immense suffering becomes today's super happy joy feeling. Today's weigh in: 150.8.

I AM ALMOST ALMOST ALMOST CLOSER TO 100 THAN 200. Wooooooooooo!

Whew, okay. So technically, after stomach flu day (did I mention I got a RAGING stomach flu the day before we left on vacation?  Good times) I weighed in at, like, 149.2, so today's weight isn't my best 2014 weight, but repeatedly emptying the contents of your stomach followed by crippling dehydration doesn't feel like healthy weight loss and probably shouldn't count. Also, I totally gained that weight back in the interim, so it REALLY shouldn't count.  So, there. Today is better.

In other news, I'm trying to become a new kind of grown up person, like, a real, grown up mature kind of person. The kind of person who cooks dinners, keeps a  budget, pays off debt, maintains a healthy weight... after first getting to a healthy weight, teaches my kids, cleans house, and most importantly for today, DOESN'T kill all the plants. So now, I'm growing... or slowly killing, depending on your perspective, green beans, radishes, and two kinds of strawberries. So far, the harvest has been: one very small strawberry. And that strawberry grew before I transplanted the little plants to my pots. That one little strawberry probably grew in the car on the way home from Idaho when it hadn't yet realized it was under my care. My kids ate it, each taking one little teensy bite.  

I'm kind of hopeful here, because, and I don't know if you can tell, but in the above photo, there are a few radishes and a couple strawberries trying VERY hard to be alive. Keep it up little guys! I believe in you! Philippians 4:13!!!

Unfortunately, the big pot variety here (the big pot has different strawberries than the 3 other pots, and I don't remember what any of them are called), so the Big Pot Variety are looking very sad. Wilty. Some browning, no blossoms anywhere. So I'm trying more sun. Maybe less water. I'm so sorry tiny plants, please don't die, I'm trying to give my children Life Experiences, and so far the only Experience they are having is that Everything Turns Brown Shrivels Up And Gets Dumped In The Green Trash Can. 

My expectations are low here, but like in some many other ways, my dreams remain lofty. And hey, remember, I've lost 2.2 pounds already this week. Anythings, possible, Guys. ANYTHING IS FREAKING POSSIBLE. 

Day 3: HULK HATE DIET.

It's Day 3 of Once Again Starting Another Diet Again Redux Again One More Time (I could probably stand to work on my titles, but that's neither here nor there) and OH MY GOSH IT'S HORRIBLE.

Something happens on Day 3 of Diets, I'm not exactly sure why it happens due to I'm not a scientist, but Day 3 is when my body suddenly becomes a DIET HATING MONSTER AND I WILL EAT AAAALL THE THIIIIINGS.  I hate diets. It's not even that I'm hungry, I don't think. Am I? I can't even tell anymore. It's just that, well, I know I'm not allowed things and GAAAAAAAAAAH.

I apologize for all the type-screaming, but unless you're particularly new here, you know that when I'm on a diet,  this is where I come to bleed out all of my wretched wretched feelings.  But this is my process, and this is my blog, so deal with it.

I'm really sorry about that. I'm not usually quite so aggressive. Trust me, it's the diet talking.

The day didn't start too bad. Monday and Tuesday were fantastic, and today started with coffee, chased down by 45 minutes of Zumba. Roast beef sandwich for lunch, chased down by SOMEONE WOKE UP MY APPETITE I NEED TO EAT EVERYTHING. ehem.

On the bright side, I'm complaining here instead of actually eating anything. And hey, by the way, I'm pretty sure it's actual hunger. Or something. I don't know, I'm miserable.

My official Monday starting weight was 153. Today, I am 152.2.  It's certainly not miraculous change, in fact, it's still about half a pound worse than I was last Friday (It's possible husband and I made some not-good choices last weekend. One last group of six unhealthy meals before it's diet time.) But I'm hopeful. I'm cutting back. I'm exercising more.  I'm doing the stuff that has to work, because it's the law. And hopefully days 4-90 will be less painful and more skinny-er.

Oh, one more thing. I did a Google image search for "Diet Crying" because of my feelings, and along with all the semi-amusing diet memes, pictures of food, sad children, and older ladies lounging in sexy bathing suits on the stairs (wait, what??), I found this:

Which I'm pretty sure is a turtle who just got caught cheating on his diet. Put. The grass. Down.  It's just not worth it, buddy. Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.