Bread….Warm Buttery Bread


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Growing up, I was never allowed to touch the bread at restaurants. You know the delicious hot bread that comes with butter at the beginning of most meals? It’s the bread that comes to the table, when you’re at your hungriest. As a child…well from eight years old, until today, I was always taught that bread was the enemy, and even looking at it would make me gain weight. I would watch with envy, and with drool coming out of my mouth , while my petite brother (sorry D) would chomp away at the tasty bread…with butter. Even before it hit the table, Ronnie Ginger would give me the eyes, making me aware that she was watching me, and that bread was MY enemy. When I became older and started going to restaurants with friends, I began to eat the free bread because no one was watching or judging. Little did I know that with each bite, I’d be blowing up a little more each time. On Donald’s first encounter with Ronnie Ginger, when he was just an innocent little boyfriend, taking his new girlfriend on dates, she nicely warned him that when he takes me out to restaurants, that I was not permitted, under any circumstances to eat the bread. She said this because I loved it so much…so she thought! Just to be clear, I don’t even like bread, I find bread to be dry, and boring and really just a waste of space. If I’m going to eat bread, I’m going to make it worth it- like a grilled cheese or French toast, but just plain bread doesn’t do it for me. The reason I became so aggressive as a child when I was refused the free bread at the table, was only because I was never allowed to have it. People always want what they can’t have, right? (I wasn’t allowed a lot of things apparently).

The thing with me and bread though, is that, bread is free, and it comes with most meals in America, and some parts of Canada. If it’s free, I like it, because I like good value. On the other hand, the whole reason why we’re going to a restaurant is because we’re hungry. If the polite waiter asks if I would like some free hot bread, and I’m hungry, and he places it right in front of me-then I’ll have a bite. I’m not going to eat an entire freaking basket of bread… this is because

1) I’m not an animal

and

2) I physically can’t keep in an entire load of bread

The moral of the story is, don’t deprive yourself. If you deprive yourself for your entire life, then one day you’ll eat an entire basket of bread, and wake up 50 pounds heavier.

Go ahead, have a bite, just a little bite.

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To My Grandma


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On November 5th 2014,  I suffered a great loss. My wonderful, amazing, beautiful grandmother passed away. My grandmother,  was my best friend, and someone who I spoke to everyday. Being the oldest grandchild, I knew I was lucky to have both my grandparents at 26, so I made sure to speak to her everyday, sometimes even twice a day. I knew that I wouldn’t have them forever, so I made sure to speak to them as much as I could. She would never let me speak to my grandfather, because she wanted me all to herself. My Grammy made it a point to judge, criticize, and comment when necessary, and she really had no filter; but I loved every moment of it! It feels so weird not to be able to call her anymore, this is the longest we’ve gone without speaking.

In the end, my grammy had a very weak heart, and she was in so much pain, but was too proud to say anything. Grammy was such a fighter and really wanted to live forever. Her heart was too weak and was not able to handle all the love she had for all her kids, grandkids and her soulmate- my Papakins!

Aside from Donald, and Mommy Ginger, my Grammy was the one person who really helped me stay on track with my weight loss and who pushed me to succeed. She knew as well as anyone, that my biggest fight was to get under 200 pounds. This is something that  I have been struggling with for the last 15 years of my life. For the last 6 months I have bounced near ONEDERLAND, but was never able to actually make it. My weight loss for the last two months has gone from 215.3 to 205.7 to 202.4 to 201.3 to 200.6 to 200.3. On the morning of November 5 2014, the day my grandma left us, I suffered not only one great loss, but two.  I got on the scale, because I felt a change within myself… to my surprise, the scale had shown me something I haven’t seen in a decade and a half… a ONE, on the scale. I got on and weighed 199.2….WITH CLOTHES! This may be so little to most people, this is something extremely huge for me, and is such a milestone in my life.

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While I know my Grammy is no longer with us in person, she is definitely with me in spirit. I don’t think I could have ever done this without her. I think that was her way of telling me that she is still here and watching over me. I never believed in that kind of stuff, but to me, it doesn’t seem like a coincidence.

Grandma, wherever you are, know that I love you, and I think about you everyday. Thank you for helping me succeed, and making me who I am today. I couldn’t have done it without you. I will never stop thinking about you, and I thank you for watching over us.

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AH-MAAZING


Today I got my first “You look AH-MAAZING” and let me tell you… it felt AH-MAAZING! That’s all I really wanted to share today.

That, and the fact that I’m comfortable wearing shorter dresses.

I am also more comfortable being in awkward situations

I also like to look in the mirror.

I like to get pretty and do my hair.

I feel good about me.

Actually, I feel AH-MAAZING

Crossfit Is Not The Devil


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Mondays are the days that Celeste and I visit Crossfit together. Walking into class, I was reminded of my terrible past as a child, while seeing grown adults sweat and struggle, hanging on bars. This reminded me of the days when all the other kids were doing the monkey bars and I would just sit there patiently and wonder what it would be like to hang from this metal structure. I was never able to fully get myself up there, or hold myself up for that matter. I had all these friends who were able to do baby Yoga while hanging on one leg; their parents must have been creepy old gymnast people I guess.

Actually, now that I think about it, Crossfit is all about being up bad childhood pasts. Like every time before class, I need to do 300 skips with a skipping rope. I don’t do skipping rope, ok? I look over to the side and there’s this beast-looking-woman skipping away, not breaking a sweat like she has absolutely no care in the world. She needs friends. I got off topic, I was talking about my childhood… I remember in elementary school there was this game; “Cinderella, Cinderella dressed in yellow.. ” whatever, I think Cinderella died at the end of that song. However, I don’t remember,  I never made it to the end of the song, because I was always disqualified for tripping on the jump rope. Kids were mean.

There are these big oversized, scary looking ropes that hang in the gym. These really intimidate me, and I hope that one day I will never have to go up them. I remember in elementary school there was this girl who was able to climb up the rope in 0.2 seconds, and I was still at the bottom struggling to even get off the ground. I never want to use the ropes, ropes aren’t for fun. Why don’t we just use the stairs?

As scared as I may be of Crossfit, it’s also the greatest workout of my life, I have never pushed myself so hard, I always have a good time, except yesterday, the trainer was eating something delicious while we were working our asses off, how rude. Celeste and I purchased another 10 classes. Here we go again!

The Cockiest Post I’ve Ever Written


If you are the type of person that does not like to read about ones cockiness, or doesn’t want to read about someone being obsessed with themselves, then do not read on.

 

No seriously, I warned you… don’t read.. I’m about to go bananas about how much I love myself.

 

Being awkward was kind of always my thing. I was abnormally tall, abnormally fat, and abnormally loud. While most people think I gave off this image of this insanely fun person, and someone who was happy all the time, I really hated myself. I should have been an actress because I’ve been playing the same role for the last 25 years. So on that note, I’m not acting anymore, I love me. I am so happy with me, I am so beautiful, I walk around with this obnoxious walk all day shaking my thang because I want everyone around me to look at me and say “damn girl, you not only look good, but you also look like you feel good girl… damn!”

I wore my super cool pants today, and I wasn’t surprised when everyone told me how great I looked. For the people who didn’t compliment me first thing when they saw me, I made sure to make it a point to them that I was wearing my new jeans today, and gave this face so they knew they had to compliment me.

Anyway, that’s all the cocky I could get, maybe in 40 pounds I’ll be twice as annoying!

xoxo

Forty pounds lighter pleasantly plump girl

Another Miracle!


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Today, something magnificent happened. We all know about the miracle that occurred last week, and this one is on the same page. I am a very jolly giant. So jolly in fact that when I wear heels I’m almost as tall as Shaquille O’Neal. Also, when I don’t wear heels I’m still some sort of Lakers basketball player.

Anyway, back to what I was saying about being so jolly and giantesque. Growing up I always had to wear dresses as shirts because the extra fabric would be more flattering on me and I’d get like an extra three inches of room in my shirts to fit in my super cute teeny tiny tummy (ya right!). This morning, I put on my regular pair of panty hose with the usual run in them, and decided that maybe I should try one of my shirt/dresses on to see how my progress was going. So, I put it on. It fits, and it flows and I look normal. It’s a little short, but I don’t care because I have these fantastic legs that people wish they had! I feel so pretty and flowy, but to be honest: when I look in the mirror I feel like I look like a little figure skater wearing something Julia Roberts should have worn in Pretty Woman. To be even more  honest, I don’t care, I’m confident in how I look. Not only is this dress now a dress, but there is actually room in it! It’s worn how the models in the magazines show it should be worn!

Miracles keep on happening!