Yo Mama is SOOOOOOOOOOOO Fat!

NOTE:  This was a blog I did 152 years ago when myspace was cool, I am reposting it here-NOT for your amusement, but for mine!  :)

All right. I've bitched and moaned about it for too long. I've gotten fat. (did too!) I'm sure it has NOTHING to do with the fact that I sit on the couch, my lap pink with heat from the laptop & drinking my SLUSHY PUNCH! Nah, sitting on the computer and drinking alcohol…totally unrelated. (is too!)

My mother in law took me shopping for a dress to wear to the brother in laws wedding. I shopped with mother in law and future sister in law. I literally tried on more dresses to GO to the wedding than wedding dresses the future sister in law tried on! I have gained approximately 40 lbs in the last 2 years-and most of that 40 lbs, I gained in a very short period. (I'm wondering if the weight gain is contributing to my fibromyalgia or vise-versa. )

I started picking out dresses and it didn't take long for me to get depressed. We're grabbing dresses in sizes that were bigger than I wore just 2 years ago. THEN, to make matters worse, I am posing for my audience and they are saying things like "Not that dress….we can see your rolls" and "Not that dress…you look like a sausage." But the worst thing they said…and they said it over and over and over yesterday- "I like that dress, lets try it in a bigger size!" WHAT?!?!?! Excuse me! I AM in a bigger size! FOUR sizes bigger to be exact-I do NOT want to go FIVE sizes bigger.

Anyway, I was in the dressing room at a store in Woodfield Mall, and I am trying on dress after dress after dress. I'm wearing only a thong to try on dresses. Since each dress required different undergarments, I decided to go without a bra. We all do it. We girls do what we gotta do to A) get the dress to look as good as you can with price tags, pins and anti-theft buttons or tags hanging off of necklines or armpits and B) save time….when you are trying on lots of outfits, you want to streamline things to make the most of your time. So-I tried on this dress-well, maybe not-so-much "TRIED ON" as I was TRYING to get into the darn thing. I was getting irritated and hot and I was already depressed so this was really becoming a challenge. So I gave up. "F*ck This!" I muttered under my breath. I didn't pick out this dress so I was NOT going to bust my ass to get into this fugging thing. Then it happened. The thing that devastated me beyond belief. The thing that is gave me nightmares last night. The thing that really smacked me in the face and made me realize that I'm not going to get thinner and healthy by just wishing it to be. 

The thing that happened was this:

I got stuck...

In the dress... 

I GOT FREAKING STUCK IN THE M'ER EFFING DRESS AND COULD NOT GET OUT! 

It was over my head and my arms were all twisted-one was behind my head and the other was where my OTHER arm should have been. Now, I was already hot and irritated so you can only imagine how THIS was working out for me. Had this not been the most expensive dress I had tried on all day, I would have just ripped the fugger and moved on, but it cost more than MY wedding dress so I did the only thing I could do.

I cried for help.

So my mother in law and future sister in law came in to the dressing room and saw me there-my ass hanging out for all to see, black and wine colored dress twisted and tangled over my head, my boobs flopping there (which by the way-my "boobs" have gotten HUGE with the weight gain…in a cute top-they are fun to show off….but just hanging there like that-they are officially in the "jugs" category and neither one of the ladies in there with me have "boobs" let alone "jugs" so I kept getting shit all day for trying on dresses that showed of the "girls"…I CAN'T HELP IT!)

I was humiliated. I grabbed a dress that they approved of and announced that I was done being their Barbie Doll. We picked out accessories and called it a day.

I want to add that they never knew how irritated and humiliated I got during the day. I didn't want to appear ungrateful to my mother in law who was footing the bill for this shopping spree and I did not want to come off as some Diva throwing a temper tantrum because things weren't going my way.

I was not going to mention this to anyone, but I spill everything here so I figured "why not"

I'm going to start exercising more, cut back on my soda (I drink way too much Pepsi) and cut back on my SLUSHY PUNCH (That one is going to be hard!) I'm going to do it. I'm going to lose 20lbs for the wedding (in March) and I AM going to lose the entire 40lbs by summertime.
I will do it!

It's going to end soon and then she'll start rubbing and kneading like all the other girls

So I got a free chair massage today at my local Walmart. 

Don't ask me WHY they were rubbing down everyone in town for free...I heard FREE MASSAGE and I forgot everything I was supposed to get. 

Sure, they could have been college students working on some clinical time...Or perhaps they were lonely and wanted to make friends.  Maybe, just maybe, they realized what I've known for a long time...People in my town are knotted up sonsofbitches's that need to relax a bit!

Anyhoo...I'm waiting my turn watching the Massage therapists rub down the people before me and I'm looking at them like (I would imagine) "FAT BASTARD" (from Austin Powers) would look at Vern Troyer covered in chocolate cake batter.  I'm feeling better already-just in anticipation of my massage.  It looked wonderful, relaxing and just plain awesome.

Yeahhhhhhhhhhhh, notsomuch.

My lady beat the CRAP out of me!  Holy hell!  Friggin' OW!  She beat me like she was trying to tenderize a pot roast!  Nothing felt better than when she STOPPED touching me!

Now, you're probably asking yourself "Why didn't you stop her?"

 

Yeah, that's a good question-you know, what with hindsight being 20/20 (or some crap like that)…

I didn't stop her, because I kept thinking "It's going to end soon and then she'll start rubbing and kneading like all the other girls."

But no.  She beat me up, gave me the international sign for "your massage is done"  (you know, the THREE back pats that you give someone when you've gotten tired of rubbing and now you're finished) and sent me on my way with a tear in my eye and a weird mark on my face from the massage chair.

So now its 7 hours later and I'm propped up on my sofa, with pillows and a heating pad.  Pain pills are not too far behind.

In other news...I'm out of wine.