Bras

Due to my influx of bacne in the last couple of months I have tried to remove my sweaty gym clothes ASAP. Today was not an exception, however my husband being home at the time was. I changed into a loose t-shirt choosing not to put a bra back on because of the locking in the sweat shit I was trying to rid myself of in the first place. After making myself a snack and sitting down at the table to eat it my husband gives me a puzzled look and says "are you going commando"? For those of you (I hope not many) who don't know what this originally was: it is when someone is going without underwear (normally a guy, normally bottoms). WTH? Am I appalling, is he becoming old and prudish, or was it too much to handle LOL! Who knows, I was starving. I shrugged at him and said "yea, so what". That was it. Where is it written that anyone has to where a bra anywhere? They are NOT comfortable and the sexier they are the more uncomfortable the bra becomes. I would choose to not wear bras and instead apply those little stripper stars to prevent the new crayon syndrome that we get to sport whenever we get goose bumps. Why didn't anyone invent some insane little device, that includes wire nonetheless, to help boys when they go through puberty. What is the difference between sagging tits and a hard on? They are equally embarrassing and, depending on the person, can make for a very awkward situation. I think I will look into the invention of bras, I'm sure it was a man who came up with the marvelous idea and it was probably the same man who said "boys, if you feel one coming on and you need to stand in front of others, just untuck your shirt". A baggy untucked shirt would've been fine for us women too, asshole.

The Gym, again. Surprised?

Today I was late getting to the gym. I had students who made up tests during lunch then had to go to the store--we were out of the essentials. Anyhoo... (FYI I really hate it when people say that) I was only able to do 45 minutes of cardio today (treadmill @ full incline--HOLY SHIT & bike) no weights; sorry to miss dealing with you today meatheads. As I was sweating my ass off (that is the goal right: ass=off) I watched "others" come in and do their thing. HELLO, two pregnant girls came in (one is maybe 3 months and the other ready to POP) they did a harder workout than I do!! My pregnancies were not so, um should we say "pretty". As I have stated in the past I gained close to 80 pounds each time and my boys only weighed 7 lb 4 oz and 7 lb 11 oz. I am in bed hooked up to IVs to rehydrate because of my hyperemesis (means major puker, I'm allergic to estrogen which was very strange to hear) after the doctors get me on meds that control the puking I am still worthless. I have zero energy, my sciatic nerve is pinched for about 6 of the 9 months so I walk weird, my hands go numb from carpal tunnel syndrome from unknown pregnancy related reasons, and I eat like there is no tomorrow because of the lack of food until I get the right meds. How the hell do these girls look so good? From behind you would never know they had a bun in the oven--I was as wide as a brahma bull (I believe that is what Jesse called me not realizing I would break down in tears and not appreciate the joke...he didn't say anything like it again). Isn't pregnancy suppose to be the time when it is ok to get fat and be lazy why would anyone put themselves through the tortuous gym if society didn't influence them? Why would you want to put on "work out" clothes made of some synthetic tight ass material and strut your stuff? I guess if you have it flaunt it, I on the other hand had WAY too much to flaunt. Oh and I didn't want every man at the gym becoming abstinent due to the visual of what can happen after the horizontal mambo session. I haven't decided if those girls have either way high self esteem (they don't give a shit what they look like-they do look good- or who cares) or way too low (way afraid of what not losing the baby weight will look like).
It really isn't any of my business, but what else do I have to think about while I'm sweating my ass off? You'd do it too.

Proactiv

Hormones are so strange. In high school I was only plagued with one or two zits once a month. They would usually pop up in places that could be concealed easily: along the hair line, on my forehead (come on, it was the 90's everyone had bangs), or in the crease along my nose (cover girl cover up). I didn' t use expensive face care lines, I wore cheap makeup that I usually wore to bed, and I washed my face with the same soap as I used on my body. Since I have become an adult I have been plagued with ACNE!! WTF!! Puberty has come and gone--why now? Now that I'm 30 I have to not only fight zits but cover, treat, and prevent wrinkles. That is always fun: how do you judge the moisturizer because I'm damned if I use it and damned if I don't. I have been a compulsive user of quite a few EXPENSIVE skin care lines and they either made my breakout way worse or didn't do a damn thing.
We have all had the opportunity of suffering from insomnia at some point in our lives and if you're like me I am always drawn to the late night infomercials. I was especially drawn to the Proactiv one, as drawn as a moth in July is drawn to my bathroom light fixture. How could I not be intriged? There was Vanessa Williams (post Miss America and grammy award winning singer) and Jessica Simpson (short on the brain cells, blessed with the rack) telling me about how they, too, have adult acne and used this shit and look how flawless their faces are now: no zits, no scars. BEFORE YOU START: I am not an idiot, this is TV and anyone can be airbrushed or made up so thick you can't see a thing. But it was 3 o'clock in the friggin morning and I was hooked. I ordered the shit the next day and it seems to work. Normally when I'm on my period I look like an extra large deep dish but I'm only sporting 2 major zits--that is a huge accomplishment. Unfortunately I'm not getting a cut of the profits for Proactiv; it works for me.

Bordering Compulsion

I am afraid that I have shifted my compulsion. As I have said, or eluded to, in the past: I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and up until this very second of realization my compulsions were mainly cleanliness. Don't get me wrong, I cleaned my house yesterday and it gave me a euphoric feeling but in the past I would clean EVERY part of my house and wouldn't/couldn't stop until it was done. I did not mop the kitchen, bathroom, or laundry room, I did not dust any of the bedrooms, and I let the windows continue to sport little paddy marks.
My new obsession is the gym: I go 5 times a week and I never work out for less than 1 hour (various combinations of free weights, weight machines, & cardio machines) I should be losing weight right? I'm gaining weight and my clothes still fit the same--WTF. What I'm about to say is not politically correct in this messed up advanced western world we live in: I am happy with my body, it really isn't bad for having 2 kids and a blossoming figure due to my arch enemy, birth control. In the last 2 1/2 years I have returned to a size 7/8 (haven't seen this since pre-marriage, obligatory gyno visit and the damn prescription) and have not as many stretch marks as I should considering I weighed in at 198 lbs with my first kid and 211 with my second (I am really sick throughout the pregnancies and when they finally find meds that will help I make up for lost time: another story). I want to have a flat stomach (I have never had one, even when I was like a 3 in high school), I want my arms to not jiggle, and above all else I would like to be healthy and why not I'll probably contract skin cancer and I'll need to be in tip top shape for the treatments, right?
Sorry about the tangent: I'm gaining weight and no, it's not because I'm turning fat into muscle and muscle weighs more (don't give me the bullshit my mother gave me), my clothes would fit different if this was the case. My gym nazi husband (refer to past posts for description of nickname) pointed out that my habit of eating chocolate cake like it was my last day on earth was probably not helping. I decided to keep a food journal to see what kind of caloric intake I had, oh and to guilt myself out of pig outs when alone. An article in Glamour magazine talked about how this is key to weight loss and gave a couple of websites (nutritiondata.com & calorieking.com) to check the calories of everything under the sun. According to the site I am to eat 2233 calories to maintain my weight & about 1733 calories to lose weight in a healthy way. I don't even want to know what I was taking in before I started writing this shit down, but when the information is staring at me from a notebook on the counter, I feel guilty and ashamed. I have been eating about 2020 calories a day since I began my journal, I am hungry all the time but it is eye opening to all the junk I ate/wish to eat now. FYI, one normal size of chocolate cake (like Betty Crocker out of the box) is 2000 calories. Next time I sit down to indulge in self loathe and a pan of chocolate cake, I need to remember that I cannot eat anything else ALL DAY long. WHATEVER!! I will continue with my obsessive working out and writing down of calories. I will look forward to the day I can wear a two piece and not have a muffin top. And there will be a new compulsion somewhere down the line; however my cleanliness one lasted about 12-14 years (yes, I've seen a shrink. He saved my marriage-my OCD was much worse than what it is now)

Where are you springtime, how can I find you...

I promise I am not a pessimist, I am rather optimistic. Unfortunately I am using my blog as a forum for bitching and you are the whipping boy, you lucky dog.
Isn't snow so beautiful: how it falls like glitter from the deep black sky and piles up like whipped cream atop a mug of hot cocoa making the Christmas season feel so legitimate. Christmas is over, I want it gone! According to the news reports we have met our requirement of snow pack for adequate water during the summer (I say to hell with the "make up" for drought). Why must it continue to fall and why must people get excited about it: its cold, wet, and a bitch to shovel, scrape, etc. My fluid squirter thing on my windshield has been frozen for 2 weeks, my car is rotting under the thick layer of salt flipped from the roads, my floors haven't been mopped, with soap, in months--why bother someone will track in snow and there goes my work. I have gone so far as to shove my head into a rather large bag of Miracle-Gro potting soil to reminise the good times, you know when the sun shone and things grew? I guess I have become a soil huffing addict, the high I receive is a little different but it is still euphoric. I guess I will continue to sing my springtime melody, a made up version of "Where are you Christmas", invest in a tanning bed pass, huff soil, and crank my heater to 80+ until, what maybe, March. Oh please God let it get warm in March....