I am Hangry!!

I am Hangry.  Hangry is this ugly combination of anger caused by being hungry.  I am hangry.  Why you ask.  Against my will, my coworkers made me sign up for Weight Watchers.  You've heard of it, with their Jessica Simpsons and that black actress/singer whose name I can't remember right now because I am hangry.  I can't think when I am hangry.

So maybe my coworkers didn't force me against my will.  I mean, they didn't take their big ole butts and sit on me until I did it.  No, we agreed as a group that we should eat better and be healthier and I begrudgingly agreed.  Since The Smooch and I got married, I have gained about..... ok, I can't say it here.  But just now that the number is close to my age.  The nurse at the doctors office calls this happy weight.  Weight you gain because you are happily in love.  But this happy weight is not making me feel very happy.  It is making me feel old and fat and out of shape.  Should I have to take a nap every time I climb a set of stairs?  So it is time to lose the happy weight.

A while back, I decided that It's Time To Buy Lycra Or To Start Working Out.  So I bought some lycra.  The other day I was telling The Smooch that I was feeling a little self conscious about my weight.  He suggested that if I was feeling self conscious, I should where my lycra.  At which point I lifted up my shirt and said what the f*&# does this look like, then I ran out in tears.  I was already wearing it.  He ran out of the room yelling "This is why I hate it when you ask me questions!"  Poor Smooch.

So I joined Weight Watchers.  This is the start of my third week.  I think that the first two weeks are the hardest.  Your body is adjusting to eating 1/4 of the food you were eating before.  I have to tell you that those first two weeks were really hard.  Every day, I pass this billboard on my way to work.  The billboard says that 1 in 4 children are hungry.  I eat breakfast at work so the drive to work is awful and the HANGRY level is high.  So every time I see this billboard, I can't help but think, I am that child thanks to Weight Watchers.  This is a bad joke and I now that.  Please don't send me hate mail.  But in my hangry, pre-breakfast state, I hate that billboard. 

I think that maybe I would rather be fat and eat.  I do love food.  I love all the great combinations of local food Columbus, Ohio has to offer.  I love going to the farmer's market and trying all the new flavors of local cheeses and honeys.  And I love the local bakeries.  I love try some new sweet concoction.  I don't even know how to begin calculating the points for that.  I only know how to calculate the items of the processed food I get at the grocery store.  And that is only because they have barcodes and Weight Watchers calculates the points for me when I scan the barcode.  How do I figure out the points to a homemade baguette and that delicious local chèvre cheese?

But I am starting my third week and I am feeling better.  I am even losing a little weight.  But I realized something.  I think that maybe the only thing holding my boobs up is the supportive shelf that my stomach has created.  If I lose weight, will my boobs drop to my belly button?  My boobs held themselves up in my 20s but now that I am in my thirties, gravity has started to take hold of them.  When I run, I have to hold my boobs in place so they don't bounce around so much.  Do you know how hard it is to run while holding your boobs.  This is why I don't run.  That and my Tricknee.  If I were to run, I would probably just fall down.

Before - Perky breasts sit on the belly shelf.  Disregard the mangled arms.

After - Skinny but my boobs go to belly button

So join me in this adventure if you will.  But feel free to join me in spirit alone.  And each time you eat something without thinking of the points, think of me.  And please forgive me if I seem hangry and grouchy.

It's Time To Buy Lycra Or To Start Working Out

Today I went shopping for clothes.  I have a work conference coming up and wanted to find something a little more professional to wear .  Clothes shopping has lost some fun since getting married because of something that someone once referred to as "Happy Weight."  It is not weight gain that makes you happy but weight gain caused by being happy!?!  Stupidest thing I have ever heard.  So I am on a mission to find some great shapewear.  I would love to hear your suggestions in the comments.

But this reminded me of the last time I was in the market for some shapewear.  This happened just over two years ago right before The Smooch and I got married.  I needed some serious shapewear to go under my wedding dress.  The dress was strapless and I have big boobs.  For you lady readers, you know what a challenge buying shapewear can be, but to find something strapless that still has the support to hold up your girls is really a challenge.  For my male readers, I apologize for the below in advance.

My search took me in and out of many shops but I couldn't find exactly what I needed.  I had no idea how hard it would be.  And the poor Smooch was with me.  I told him it would take about 15 minutes but then the search ended up taking three hours in and out of eight stores.  He was a great sport though.

I ended up at Victoria's Secret.  The Smooch had had enough and went into a different store in the mall.  We agreed I would call him when I was ready and we would meet up.  I went into Victoria's Secret and explained what I was looking for.  No problem, we have exactly what you need.  She found my size and sent me to the dressing room.  I got to the dressing room and examined what I had.  It was basically a small tube with two cups at the top.  Was this the right size?!?!  No way.  I checked the label and the label confirmed my worst fears.  It was my size.  Dear God save me.  I said a prayer but couldn't hear God's response over his laughter.  I disrobed down to my knickers.  I tentatively stepped into the garment.  I got it pulled up to my butt but could not get it pulled over my ass.  Well maybe my ass is to large, maybe I need to pull it over my head.  So I took it off and tried to pull it on over my head.  But I couldn't pull it down while keeping my arms straight above my head.  Hmmmm......  This went on for about 15 minutes.  I tried stepping into it and pulling up, I tried pulling it over my head...  I twisted and pulled but I could not get it on.  Perhaps it was a puzzle and you had to pull and push in all the right places to get it to fall comfortably in place???  Perhaps if I had taken a yoga class or some sort of contortionist class I could have gotten it on???  Perhaps if I was double jointed, I don't know.  It seemed that it was not meant to be.  I disgruntledly put my clothes back on and left the dressing room.

The Victoria's Secret employee cheerily asked me how it went.  I told her that it didn't.  I couldn't figure out how to get it on.  She took me by the arm and assured me that we would get that life constricting girdle on me.  Again, I looked to God.  The laughing was uncontrollable now.  The Victoria's Secret employee was slightly older than me.  Not old enough to be my mother but old enough to have seen it all, to have been there and done that.  We went into the dressing room and I disrobed again.  I am now standing there in nothing but my underpants in front of the Victoria's Secret employee.  I should also add that I am quite sweaty from my first attempt at putting this contraption on.  She said you have to step into it and pull it on.  I had complete faith in her.  Let's do this.  I pulled it up again to my butt and again I couldn't get to it any higher.  Embarrassment is starting to set in.  My lower half is incased like a sausage with the top half of me pouring out of it.  Again, I should mention that I am sweating and am really starting to get hot.  This is only causing my body to expand.  Not a good thing.

She looked me in the eyes and said, we are going to do this.  She told me to grab each of the sides and we would pull it on together.  She then stepped up to me perpendicularly to my body in what I can only describe as a solid stance.  A stance she had obviously gained from years of pulling lycra onto desperate women.  She then bent over and put one hand on the front of the life changing garment and the other hand on the back.  Since the piece was still below my ass, she had to bend over slightly to grab the garment in the right places.  This put her face directly into my naked boobs.  Awesome.  She then yelled "PULL" and together we pulled with all our might and the damn thing slipped on and into place.  It was perfect.  I couldn't breath so I knew it was working.  To get the thing back off, we had to do the same thing in reverse, with both of us pulling at the same time.  Again, her face was in my boobs.

When it was over, we were both covered in sweat.  I paid for my hard earned breath stopper and left the store.  The Smooch found my sitting on a bench outside of Victoria's Secret.  My hair was disheveled, my face was red and I was sweating.  He also said I had a look on my face of complete despair.  He asked me what happened.  I told him that I couldn't tell him.  We weren't yet married and I didn't want to ruin his image of me.  I told him that it started with a workout and it ended with Victoria's Secret employee and I sharing a cigarette.