In Which I Brag (And You Congratulate Me!)

*Blogger promised they'd put this post back and they never did, so I'm reposting... sorry if you left a comment ... it's gone. Put it back for me!***


Two words:

GOAL WEIGHT

That's right, folks. I now weigh what I weigh when I got married. (Derek remarked that this was impressive as the size of certain assets have doubled since the wedding which is why I don't my wedding dress would zip anymore, sigh.)

I would like to thank breastfeeding, Diet Coke, bananas, Lean Cuisines, my husband and family. It was an honor just being nominated.

And what am I going to do now? Well, try to not get pregnant today or tomorrow (and if you don't remember, any time I make public declarations like this, it tends to backfire. May I introduce you to Ezra?) and maintain this until such a time as there is a new bun in the oven.

It is incredibly rude to ask a lady what she weighs, so I'll tell you so you are spared the rudeness. Before I do, I would like to put this disclaimer out there: It appears that the women in our family have very strong, very heavy bones. Like lead lined. We don't really break bones or get osteoporosis, and our skeletons alone weigh 108 pounds. The weight I am about to disclose is still on the "high end" of normal according to the "experts." I am a loose size 8 or a snug size 6.

To help you have perspective, I weighed 186 the day Mr. Ezra was born.

This morning I weighed 142.

Damn. That feels good.

This N That Wednesday

Oh, it is Wednesday. HO-HUM are Wednesdays don't you think?

Me thinks. 

Today for school, Henry and Spencer and I created a very fantastically complicated science project. 

It entailed a bucket of water and a pile of stuff. We played, "Will it Float?" 

It.was.a.blast. If you wish to entertain small children, then I highly recommend. We talked about buoyancy and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. 

Annnndddd, after my declaration of incredible loss-of-weight, today is rainy. WHY, when it is rainy, do I desire to bake sugary things and devour them? I don't understand it. It makes for a long day when all I want to do is mix sugar and other things with some eggs and flour and then lick the spoon. It makes for an even longer day when Husband has gone off to work and my healthy-eating-partner is no where to be found. Here I am, surrounded by ingredients and recipes, and three little helpers who have never met a cookie they didn't like, and it's raining and I can't send them outside and away. 

I WANT COOKIES.

Why is it so hard to be good? 

I'm probably going to make cookies. I'm just sayin'. 

We booked our hotel accommodations for our BIG EXCITING TRIP TO LAS VEGAS!

I KNOW! I realize that most people who are LDS and the parents to four small children (who are coming along) would have no reason to be excited about Vegas, but most people didn't live there for nearly two years and had to leave behind dear, loved friends, whom I can't wait to see!  It's been nearly a YEAR since we moved, a truth which blows my mind a little bit.

VEGAS BABY!

We're staying at an off-strip RESORT. Because, really, who in their right, non-gambling mind wants to stay on the strip? Not I, said the fly. It's a two-story room, and the resort has three pools. I feel rich. And famous. And rich!

I am SO excited. Not to mention that I am planning on eating at every single one of my favorite restaurants and will only worry a bit that I've gained 9 pounds when I get home. 

I AM SO EXCITED! 

And finally, I'm here today, discussing parenting books. Shoot on over and share your live-and-die-by titles. :) 

Folks, it is a CELEBRATION!

Look what I got! Isn't Felicity nice? She and I bonded over birth-y type stuff a little while ago. Now I really enjoy her blog and her thoughts on life. It's a total throw back to being 18! Which shockingly unto my soul, was nearly 10 years ago.

WOAH!

THANKS Felicity!
***
So, this morning, I was FRUSTRATED!

Here is why:
1. FREAKING day light stupid time is totally messing up my house.
2. Derek had a meeting. No biggie.
3. I needed a shower. I couldn't remember the last time I had washed my hair. This isn't an issue until I turn into a greaseball. Which I had.
4. I needed to weigh myself, which is something I do sans clothing. It makes me feel good about myself.
5. The dishwasher needed running, so I couldn't shower, or weigh myself.
6. I wanted a Diet Coke so bad I was almost dying, but I couldn't HAVE a Diet Coke until I weighed myself. I couldn't weigh myself until I could shower. I couldn't shower because the dishwasher was running. And Derek was gone. And Ezra thinks napping is silly. And Oliver thinks following me around and begging to eat is fun.
7. I needed to also rewash a load of laundry I had left over night. I didn't want to do the washing until I had showered. I need hot water!
It took ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL morning to get everyone to a point where I could 1. Weigh myself
2. Shower
3. Have a Diet Coke.
4. Start the laundry

But friends, it was ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL worth it when I stepped on the scale. OMGOSH! I am only 7 pounds away from my goal. I now weigh less than I have in three pregnancies. My SMALLEST pair of jeans button without complaint. I mean, life is pretty good.

AND Derek brought me a rather large diet coke in celebration.

And Ezra still won't sleep.

But JIMENEY CHRISTMAS I am starting to get skinny. WOOHOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

To be completely 100% clear and honest, I have lost 38 pounds since Ezra was born.

You may now tell me how incredible I am in the comments section. I also accept Diet Cokes sent to my home address.

LOVE YOU!

My Current Belief and a Plan!

When I was in fourth grade, the gym teacher decided that telling us all our body fat percentage was a BRILLIANT idea. (What an IDIOT that man was... I wonder if he's still alive...)

When yours is the 31% and your good friend Ginger's is 19% (can you believe I remember my own AND her's?), it literally shatters your life.

I was fat. I knew it.

(Except I wasn't...)

 And thus, as a nine-year-old girl it began.

In 7th grade, puberty was a real BI-OTCH. Seriously. And I was in dance classes that required SPANDEX. Oh my gosh. I was FAT! And the spandex only proved it!

(Except I wasn't...)

Up and down, round and round, I am now 27 years old and I am fat. 18 years of being fat. Sigh.

Except, am I?

I have LITERALLY no idea.

I do know that I have four children, endless stretch marks, and soft-around-the-middle depression.

And thus continues my love affair with my own vanity.

It's RIDICULOUS.

What I do know for sure is that it actually doesn't matter what is REAL. All that matters is one's perception of it all.

Since I firmly perceive there to be a gross over-amount of ME, enter Weight Watchers Online (it's not a diet...) and a lot of fruit and veggies, oh and P90X. Oh yes.

See? It doesn't matter if I'm fat or not because pretty soon, regardless, there will be less of me.

Just in time to get knocked up again.

This plan is absolutely fool-proof.