When we hear phrases like ‘To tell the truth,” “If you want my honest opinion,” or “Frankly, I think,” they’re almost never followed by information we really want to hear, right?
To tell the truth … you really looked better as a brunette.
If you want my honest opinion … those pants make your ass look HUGE!
Frankly, I think … you should give up salsa dancing altogether and go back to being a toll booth collector.
(My apologies to any newly-blonded, large-assed toll booth collectors reading right now.)
And yet, there’s something about honest posts like Monday’s A Day Spent in Bed isn’t Always a Bad Thing that attract attention, like staring down a car accident. I think it’s reassuring to read that we’re not the only ones eating boxes of cookies alone in the dark for breakfast, squabbling with our significant others and making big ass parenting mistakes every now and then. It’s good to be reminded that we’re not the only ones screwing up out there. So, please allow me to help you feel good about yourself today by pointing out some of my own shortcomings.
(1) I yell at my kids … way too much. (And I love those little rats so much.)
(2) I totally take my family and friends for granted. (Sorry, guys. I love you, too.)
(3) I have been known to curse like a sailor. (Surprising, considering how clean-ish I’ve managed to keep this mother bleep! bleep! bleeping! blog.)
(4) I never send thank you notes anymore. (I know. Gasp!)
(5) I have no idea how to moderate my food intake … and therefore vacillate between eating like a bird or like a pig.
Alright, fine. So, I’m not perfect. The list could obviously go on and on. I don’t use ribbons when I gift wrap. I am long-winded on other people’s voice mails. I eat way too much cheese for just one person. Blah, blah, blah …
But today, I’m just going to take on one tiny thing. I started my morning with one small step – getting on the damned scale. Women only reveal their weight when it’s exactly where it’s supposed to be, which for me is right about 115. And I was there, even a little under, shortly after my surgery. Then, the comfort foods started arriving (thanks to my truly wonderful friends), then Christmas, then New Year’s and, well, you get the picture. So, back to the stupid scale. After I removed everything I could this morning, evacuated my bladder, clipped my nails and exhaled deeply, I stepped on.
123 and a son-of-a-mother-freaking-half.
Eight and half pounds? In a little over a month?? Which doesn’t even count regaining the ones I lost after the surgery??? No wonder my clothes are so pissed off at me. Fine, this will be my small step for now. And you guys will be the watchdogs. I will list my weight at the top of every post until I reach my goal. Not to worry. The posts won’t be about dieting (Borrrrr-ing!), but the weigh-in will be up there mocking me … and reminding me to PUT … DOWN … THE CHEESE!
Are you with me? I need the accountability. And now … I’m off to eat a crappy, healthy dinner. Later …
OldDogNewTits 