Wednesday Weigh In (week 4)

Is it Wednesday already? Really? Sigh...

Nothing. I've lost nothing (except maybe a bit of dignity...) The thing is, I've found a loophole in the whole "taking the stairs" plan. There is this new invention, I don't know if you've heard of it before, it's called an escalator. Get this, they're moving stairs. So, I can take the stairs without actually moving. If you haven't guessed it yet, my building has these new fanangled moving stairs and I've been using them. Often.

My relationship with food is different from most people. I mean, yes I eat when I'm bored. But most people eat when they're depressed, to fill a void. Not me. I eat when I'm happy. Right now, I'm super content with my life. So I eat yummy food. Like Chocolate. And Ice Cream. And Ice Cream with Chocolate on top. Mmmmm, Chocolate!

And I hate cooking. It seems like such a waste of time for me, so I avoid it as much as possible. Especially if it's just for me. Q is always so impressed when I do cook, "Mommy, this is actually good!!" he says, a little shocked, which - truth be told - I am as well. Eating also seems like a waste of time. The flaw in this plan is that I tend to eat "fast" food (a.k.a fat food). If someone out there could invent a pill for me to take that pops in my stomach into a 3 course meal with all the nutrients that I need to survive, I would take it. Gladly. And, I wouldn't take credit for the idea either. Oh sure, NASA has probably invented this, but if it's not on the shelf at Safeway, it doesn't do me much good, now does it?

Generally, eating never makes me feel good. I always feel bloated or pain or a combination of the two. Of course, the hypochondriac in me thinks I should go to the doctor about this. The realist in me thinks I just need to stop eating so much junk.

Stats:

Height: 5'5

Weight: 158 (ack. I actually gained)

Weight loss to date: oh, nevermind...

The Hubby Express

I'm the third one from the right, in the pink...

Okay, okay, so maybe I'm exaggerating just a little bit. My skytrain experience is nothing like this....but I've often said that life is soooo much more interesting with exaggerations (ooohhh, and sound effects!!) For instance, if I said there was 20 people on the skytrain today, you'd think that was ho-hum boring, I know you would because I'm bored just thinking about it. BUT, if I said there was like 20 million people on the skytrain, you'd be intrigued. You'd know there weren't really that many people on the train, because that would be ridiculous - and impossible - but you let your mind go there anyways. And I get my point across... It's so funny that I think I might meet my future Mr. Hubby on the skytrain. But there are alot of men who use mass transit. And they're stuck there. On the train, sitting in front of me. It seems like the perfect place to hand pick Mr. Hubby. I should probably preface this post by saying that I am a freak magnet. No matter where I go, or whom I with I attract people who are a little...um...nuts. The skytrain is no different. For the most part, I just mind my own business on the train (oh, except for this gorgeous man who got on last week. He was absolutely perfect. I just stared at him. Tall, skin like milk chocolate and absolutely beautiful hands. The whole trip, I drooled. He didn't even acknowledge my existence. I thought about faking a coughing spell...but then something in me decided that me coughing up a lung would not be attractive...next time, I might try a sneezing attack. Sneezing is cute, right??) Oh where was I??? Oh yes, I do mind my own business. I read a book, or I do the crossword and sudoko in the free newspapers. I figure that my future Mr. Hubby will think "Oh, she's smart. Look, she's doing the crossword!" Although, just rereading what I wrote, that could work against me..."My grandma does crosswords, who does crosswords? What, does she knit too?" Hmmm, something to consider... Friday's are the best for entertainment on the train. Everyone has been out, having fun, drinking a few too many, and I'm sober. I've been at work. One night I get in a car with 5 guys who decided to take the party on board. And one starts hitting on me (can you say beer goggles? I'm dressed like a janitor, need I say more?) with this absolutely brilliant line, "Wow, you're too hot to work for a post office!" To which I respond, "Oh, that's not fair. Hot girls need jobs too, you know!" Then I continued on with my crossword. Another time, I sit beside this normal looking woman who begins to tell me that I am a gift from God. I have been sent into this world to save people like her. Wow! That's a whole lotta pressure. I smile and nod and pretend to be really interested in my crossword puzzle. But she continues, "No, I'm serious. God put you here for me. To save me. You're an angel. Because you know there are people out there who will TAKE YOU DOWN." By this time she's shouting "They will F#!* with your mind and they will destroy you. But not you. No, you're an angel." I was still smiling at this time. Maybe more so out of fear...but, then the one thing happened that I will not stand for. At all. She leans over and tries to help me with my crossword!!! Um, no. My crossword is my crossword. Go get your own. Crosswords are sacred. One packed and sweltering afternoon, this guy gets on behind me. And I can hear this clicking sound. Quiet enough, but annoying. Then, out of nowhere, this guy yells, "Geronimo!!" at the top of his lungs, and I think, "Oh shit, I'm going to die on the skytrain." The train goes silent. No one knows what to do. Does he have a gun? What was the clicking noise? Slowly, I turn around and see the guy...and he's got a...pen. Yup, he has a pen in his hand and he's clicking it. And I guess he yelled "Geronimo" just because it seemed like a good idea. He was smiling. He got off at the next stop without incident. I've seen things you should never see in public. I've seen fights. I've seen way too drunk 16 year old girls puke beside me. One guy cried the whole ride. What do you do with that? It's awkward. Do you offer a tissue? I've been asked if I'm the one driving the skytrain. Um, do you see a steering wheel (or a button, maybe? Like a green one for go, and a red one for stop?) Maybe he thought I was the one who announced all the stops, I don't know, but he was serious. I've smelled more armpits, actually body odor in general, than I care to admit. Maybe I should stop looking for Mr. Hubby on the train...

Love, love, love it!!

What a day, what a day! Busy, busy and busy! It was a fabulous day, really, I'm pleased to say! Here's what I'm loving this week (and not necessarily in any order) 1. MAC Make-up (www.maccosmetics.com)

I wear this boring uniform every day, you know, with the dreadful steel toed boots...I think I've mentioned them before (a time or two.) And I like to be a girl, a girly girl, we've established that fact as well. If I can't wear fabulous clothes and gorgeous shoes, well...MAC make up is the next best thing. Their colours are just amazing. 2. My Brother's Dodge Ram I am crazy about this thing. My brother needed my car for the week (road trip with a little Kia Spectra is way more economical) Anyways, I am having a love affair with this truck. Granted, parking is the shits, it takes forever for me to park. And I park far, far away from everything just so I don't hit anything. But twin cab, 1/2 tonne, and get this...dude, it has a hemi! I really have no idea what that means, except it's got power. This truck is me. Tough exterior, powerful and confident, with a car seat in the back. Men dig this too! Cute girl driving a big truck, like a man-magnet. I'm loving it!!! 3. Fuchsia scarves (and fuchsia in general, really)

Isn't it gorgeous? I am loving fuchsia. To tie in #1, I actually have fuchsia pigment eye shadow. But, back to the scarf, fall is coming up and I cannot wait to wear my beautiful scarf. Fall can be kinda drab, but not with this scarf. It's hanging by the door, just waiting to be embraced. 4. Brennan Manning's book "the fierce longings of God"

Trust me, I'm not one to preach. But this book is beautifully written and has a wonderful message. I'm reading it right now. If you have ever thought about God, or a higher power, this would be such a great read for you. He talks about how loved we are by Him. And how can it be a bad thing? To be loved is wonderful. To be defined by His love is beyond words. St. Augustine said "Quia amasti me, fecisti me amabilem" or "In loving me, you made me lovable." I falter all the time, far less than perfect, but I am loved nonetheless. Just read the book. 5. Last but certainly not least, this cute bracelet by Brooklyn Thread http://etsy.com/

I am totally coveting this right now. It's just so cute and simple. I absolutely want one in every colour. Check out the blog too...Lifestyle Bohemia. Hope she doesn't mind the shout out!

Wednesday Weigh In (week 3)

Oooooh, that sounds so much better, don't you think? Way better than Monday weigh in. Totally. I think I'll stick with Wednesday Weigh In from now on. I weigh myself at work. We have these huge industrial scales that are used for weighing mail and they're calibrated all the time, so I figure that have to be accurate. I mean, our business depends on it. Well, that and the fact that I don't own a scale. This is purely for sanity purposes. If I had a scale at home, I would weigh myself all the time...ALL the time. I would be obsessed. Well, that and I'm too cheap to buy a good one. There are downsides to weighing myself at work (I know, go figure, right???) The absolute biggest being that I have to weigh myself in front of everyone. I usually saunter over to the scale, very nonchalant. I look around slowly, first to my right then to the left. If no one is watching, I quickly empty my pockets, step on the scale and quickly jump off. Then I take another peek around to make sure no one saw. Of course, if I've actually lost weight I let out a little squeal, so that always gives me away. And this next one probably goes without saying, but I will say it anyways...I have to weigh myself with clothes on. Obviously. I mean emptying my pockets is one thing. Stripping naked would probably get me fired. And I know I'd get caught fumbling with the eff'ing steel toed boots. Don't get me wrong, the thought has crossed my mind...but as a single mommy I need a pay check to oh I don't know...support my child. Call me crazy. Instead I've thought of a compromise. I take off 2 kilos for clothing, boots, attachments that cannot (or should not) be removed in public. Which brings me to problemo #3...Kilos. The scales are in kilos, so I have to then look around for a calculator to find out how much I really weigh. I mean, who thinks in kilos anyways? Not me, and I was taught in kilos. Pounds make so much more sense to me. To those of you who don't know, 1kg = 2.2lbs. Math was never my strong point, so a calculator is essential. Finally, I work afternoon shift. You're supposed to weigh yourself first thing in the morning. Before you eat (but after you pee!) So, my weight loss recording might not be 'accurate', but it's not like I'm entering my findings into a medical journal, so I think we're okay. My clothes are fitting a little looser, I feel lighter. Here are the stats... Height: 5'5 Weight: 157.3 Loss to Date: 5.5lbs Woooo Hooooo!!!!! At this rate, I will be skinny by December. Just in time to eat Christmas sugar cookies and turkey dinner and pumpkin spice latte's and pumpkin pie with whip cream...Anyways, the goal is this 132-135 by December 1. That's a steady 2 lbs per week, with the option to cheat at least once or twice. Will power is not my strong point, as we all know.

Text Wars

I'm a little embarrassed to admit this, after all I am an adult. Here's the deal...I have been having an argument in my head with Mr. (un) fab all evening. I mean, that in itself isn't so childish...I hope. What makes it super childish is that I'm having a text argument with Mr. (un) fab. Our relationship, due to our schedules (or so he says...) has existed almost solely in texts. So, it's really quite fitting that we would fight in texts as well. It's kinda difficult though, because everything I say is limited to 140 characters. Not so easy, because I have to get the emotion right, the words right, all in 140 letters. It's been going something like this... him: hey babe. how was yr wknd? me: yr kiddin rite? him: why? o yr mad? me: uh ya. wats yr excuse now? me: lemme guess...u were abducted by aliens him: no, but...(and here he'll insert some utterly ridiculous excuse for why he stood me up) me: u no wat. nevamind. pls jus go away Ya, that's all I've got so far. It's a work in progress. However in the end, I've decided that the adult thing to do is to just let it be. Let it be. I'm not going to be mean, I'm not going to be a bitch. Silence. This guy just keeps sucking me back in with his smooth words and I think every time, "ya, he's right. I'm totally overreacting here. It's okay." Bottom line, it's NOT okay. Me making excuses for anyone to anyone is not okay. I've given him opportunity after opportunity to redeem himself, and he still keeps doing stupid things. I deserve more than this. One of my best friends always says, "C, women are not crazy. Men make women that way. Us women need to stick together" I usually roll my eyes and think she's crazy, but maybe she is right. Maybe 10% of women are crazy just by nature, the rest have all become bitter, grumpy, suspicious women because MEN have beat them down til they have no other choice. It's called baggage. I wish we could all just let it go. Coincidentally, I also believe that 10% of men are normal, and the remaining 90% are arses. Do the math, it doesn't bode well for us 'normal' women. If some guy has 5 ex's who hate his guts, it is not because he was wonderfully amazing during their relationship. It's more likely he was an ass. I bet he promised the world, then couldn't deliver. I'm going to give my thumbs a little rest and not text Mr. (un) fab. I'm going to save my wit and charm for someone who a) appreciates it and b) won't stand me up. Why? Because I'm worth it!!

I'm in, Totally in

First and foremost, my single mommies...if you are looking for single daddies THE place to go is a water slide park. Seriously, they are everywhere. Everywhere I looked, there was a dad, with a child with no ring and no woman (which I realize is relative, but I'm just saying it's a good starting point...) It almost made me wish I hadn't guilted my brother and his gf to join us! Okay, okay, I loved that they came with us. It was the perfect day!! But, holy geez lesson learned. Single daddies take their kids to water parks. Now I think I'm onto something - Single dad's take their kids places, right? You know because they don't know how to entertain them at home (after all, that's our job as mommies...right?) So, here's the thing...mini golf, bowling, go-karting, swimming pools, amusement parks. Single men will be here with their children. You're welcome!! Please let me know if you have any luck, and I will do the same!! So, Mr. (un)fab totally stood me up all weekend, which actually was 3 days because it was a long weekend. So, not surprised! Of course, I didn't spend the weekend pining for him and waiting by the phone for his call (I have a cell phone...it allows me to wait by the phone without waiting by the phone...this is a minor technicality.) Tonight a friend of mine arranged for a few of us single mom's to get together at Boston Pizza for dinner. It's totally kid friendly and get this...kids eat free as long as parent eat. It was a nice cheap evening. The four kids entertained each other while us mother's bonded over horror birth stories. This is when it hit me. I'm part of a club. An elite club. The "I gave birth and survived" club. Okay, okay so it's not so elite. Basically, if you have an uterus, you're in. But whatever, it's a club and I belong. Men don't get it, women who've never been in labour don't understand. And it's not something you can explain. Every single event is different from the other. One woman was given medication that the doctor mis-prescribed for her during her 5th month and had a heart attack. The doctor's kept shuffling her between the cardiac ward and the maternity ward because they couldn't figure out what needed their attention more, her unborn child or her failing heart. My girlfriend gave birth (as a single mom) to her daughter with a cleft palate. Of course this was unbeknownst to her, so when they whisked her new born away without a word, she got a little agitated...to say the least. Another one had preeclampsia...so was induced at 33 weeks. She gave birth to a 3lb baby who was immediately taken to the NICU. And you all know my story...I'm kinda vocal about it. That's just four stories. Births are taking place every minute (or maybe even every second) of every day. And we're in a developed, wealthy nation with pretty awesome health care. What's your story? I'm pretty adamant that if I'm ever crazy enough to have another baby, I want to be knocked out for the whole thing. They can wake me up when it's over. But for now, I will take pride in knowing that I'm in - totally in - the (crazy) mom's club.

Pity Party for 1

I don't often feel sorry for myself, but tonight I do. It's another Saturday night watching cartoons with Q and I feel down. Every so often I am reminded it is just him and me against the world. I was reminded of this when we went on our road trip at the beginning of the summer. When we pulled into the gas station, or the McD's, or just about anywhere, there was the the picture of the perfect family. Dad pumping the gas, kids laughing in the back, mom buying the snacks. I know every family has a 'story' and no one is as perfect as they seem. But geez, it would be nice to not be alone.

Tonight were the final fireworks in there competition and I really, really wanted to go. (http://www.celebration-of-light.com/) But I didn't want to go alone. They're always really crowded and loud and I hate people when they're pushing me and yelling in my ear. I don't know - it's a huge peeve of mine. Where have manner's gone? (I'm digressing here, I realize...but when you bump into someone, it's just polite to say sorry. I'm just saying...) At least if I go with someone, they can run defence for me (and ensure I don't do something I may regret later.) Besides, how fun is it to watch fireworks by yourself. Oooohing and Ahhhhing to yourself just isn't the same. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't be completely alone, of course Q would be there however adult company is always welcome. Especially at midnight with a tired kid whom I've been carrying on my shoulders for the past 2 hours. Back up is necessary for sanity with an (almost) 5 year old.

Tomorrow we're going to the water slides. By ourselves. No one else can (or will) come with us. There will be the perfect families. You know, the dad, the mom, the kids all laughing and frolicking like a fricken commercial for happiness. I want the hubby who will go down the slides with the kids while I read my magazine or sun tan. I am coveting family right now. Like really bad. I am trying to create a wonderful cohesive life for Q. One where he will look back on his childhood and smile at the memories. Am I doing that? Do I do enough? Would having a daddy at the waterpark really make that much difference? I guess I won't know for the next 15-20 years. For an instant gratification gal, 15 -20 sounds like a life time (oh, wait...it kinda is...)

I was hoping mr. (un)fab would have popped in the pic some time today and we would have made plans to go together. Or maybe my brother and his girlfriend could fit us in. But looks like it'll just be us. Interesting how mr. (un)fab conveniently disappears when the plans are being made. Anyways, pity party for 1. 'Coz that's just how I'm feelin'...