Butt-to-Gutt Ratio Gone Wild

Yep, I’m back in the gym. Why? Because my butt-to-gutt ratio is in fierce competition for body dominance, whoever expands the biggest is the winner. I’m gaining weight fast and it’s not even egg nog season yet.

I inhale and my butt pulls at my clothing, I exhale and my gutt snatches it back. These two body parts are fighting over coverage like my clothing is a blanket on a cold winter night.

This is so not comfortable and the gym is the only thing that might keep me on track, so I’ll go.

I went to the gym during my lunch hour, I wasn’t “feeling it” but I never feel good about going until after I’m done with my workout. I turned on the t.v., stuck my earbuds to my MP3 player in my ear and plopped my magazine¹  over the display panel on the elliptical machine.

I did a five minute warm up and I thought my first day back in the gym was going to be more difficult, this was nothing. I cranked up the resistance another notch and surprisingly I moved with ease. I checked myself out in the mirror and I can’t help it, I had to look in the trunk.

Mr. Whipple said, “Please Don’t Squeeze the Charmin”, he didn’t say nothing about my butt, so I reached around for a quick grab, just to assess the merchandise.  It’s about six rolls of Charmin back there and I only need four, this machine should help. My calves look decent, but my thighs look like a human storage container for cottage cheese.  I’ll work on that later, after I settle this dispute.

While I worked out, I also kept a watchful eye on my hair because, at a certain length, it does not do humidity and sweat. My hair goes into a gangsta lean like it’s too cool to be seen with the other side of my hair-do and just separates itself down the middle.   I don’t like hair spray but I had to use it, at least until I can get a hair cut.

I’m about 10 minutes into my workout and I’m not winded at all, a little unusual for a first day workout.  I even started encouraging myself with exercise affirmations “you better work girl” and “you’re in better shape than you thought“. I was moving so fast, I wanted to draw a stick figure on the wall behind me to pretend I was being chased. Yeah, try to catch me. Muahahahahaha.

Even though it was an easy workout, something else was wrong. I know I pushed that resistance button at least 3 times and I’m still standing.  I lift my magazine off the elliptical display and it said: To begin your workout, please press start.

****!

What was I doing for the last 10 minutes!  That’s why I didn’t feel tired, I wasn’t doing a vigorous workout, I was walking.  My legs aren’t strong, I’m stupid.

I pressed the start button and began my real workout.  Okay yeah, this feels different.  Fifteen minutes in and I’m singing another tune “you better get off this machine girl“,  “you’re not in as good of shape as you thought“.

I’m starting to perspire too, a few strands of hair fell into my face and I heard the door open and shut.  There goes my hair spray.  Actually it was a partner from the office, but my hair spray did quit on me and my hair now resembles a mop.  Great.

I put in an additional 10 minutes since I messed up my workout to make it an even 30.  I stopped the machine to get off and I can’t feel my legs.  I’m not sure if my feet are on the floor or not, but I’m moving.  I look like a drunk but without the benefit of alcohol on my breath or in my blood stream.  I still have on my headphones though, so to cover up my stagger, I pretend to dance out of the workout room.  I can walk, just not straight yet.

After waiting for my legs to stop trembling, I hit the showers and do more damage to my hair from the steam.  It’s wet: the scalp, the hair, like I just washed it.  No, I can’t blow dry at work, I have to call in a team of professionals for my hair, it’s not that simple or cooperative.

So I went back to work looking like I just ran a full marathon. I said if people stare at my hair too long, I plan to casually mention that I just came from working out, that should explain the damage, at least for today, tomorrow’s another day.

1. read this, great article [↩]

What My Clothes Reveal About Me

Not too many people know this about me, okay no one does, but I have my own clothing code that’s synched with my moods. I can be so quiet that people are forever trying to “read me”, by looking at my face. That’s kind of sad because I have a natural poker face, you’ll get nothing there….Most times I’m not sad, I’m just on standby, like a computer, waiting to be aroused. Until then, I’m saving energy.

Anywho, I thought I would put together these referral sheets for those who want to read me like a book (I’ll .PDF them later, you can click the pictures for a bigger view). If you want to know how I’m doing, don’t read my face, look at my outfit. Let’s look below….

If I’m wearing a suit, pant or dress, I’m feeling pretty confident this day. About what I don’t know, but I probably believe I can fly, or at least walk on water. I’m in a great mood, approachable, I’m serious but playful, I’m on top of stuff, organized and willing to help with whatever. Mood: team player.

Approachable. I’m in a great mood, more relaxed, wearing loafers and not too worried about deadlines. I probably lost a few pounds if my shirt is tucked in and my belt is tight. I’m feeling very Ann Taylorish on a Target budget. I’m flexible and ready for anything. Throw on a blazer and I’m good to go, anywhere. Mood: Pleasant.

This last outfit is what I looked like yesterday, crap. This means I am not in a good mood, the socks are a big indication that something is wrong. The high water pants mean I’ve gained a few pounds. I hate to see ankles, I love long pants. I’m probably retaining water and can no longer wear my pumps because my feet are swollen. I have on shoes that look like something Herman Munster would wear to keep from pinching my toes. I’m not interested in talking to you, helping you with anything and no matter how cute you are or how much I love you, I will bite. My hair is usually a mess too, I feel rushed and unorganized, so I throw on anything and think you should just be glad I showed up. Approach with caution until I comb my hair and put on some decent clothes! Mood: Get the heck away from me and chances are I’m hiding something behind my back to throw at someone, see above pic.

I don’t know what I’m wearing tomorrow and I know, my drawing sucks.

I Wish I Had Duck Feet

I have two issues I’m dealing with and I think this book might be a part of the problem and the solution.

Problem
Well this is not really a problem, but I’m starting to wonder how come every time I go to the library I find another book that reminds me of my childhood. I said it before, here, I hardly remember any childhood memories, and yet, the library seems to hold the days of my life. My mother told me we grew up poor, but I didn’t know we lived at the library, poor. Every time I find a book, it’s like one of those cryptic ink blots with a secret message inside. I can’t wait to see which book reminds me of our family photo album and the story it has to tell.

Solution
My 2nd problem, turned solution, is that above book is an unauthorized biography that just might solve my shoe problems. Previously I touched on the reasons why I Can’t Afford to Be a Woman Anymore, it’s just too darn expensive and I don’t even look all that great, I just want to look halfway decent. I can almost find pants long enough to reach past my ankles, but I have a hard time finding shoes for my size 10, sometimes 11 feet. If I do find a pair of shoes, you know they’re so close to ugly that they’re touching. Cute shoes stop at size 8.5 anything past that is just lucky.

I ordered a pair of shoes online and they arrived yesterday, the heel was a little higher than what I normally wear, but I said if they fit, I will walk on stilts! They didn’t fit because of a gap around the arch area so I exchanged them for a narrow pair. I have nothing to lose, but hope.

Now I’m looking at the title of this book thinking this little boy is on to something, maybe I should wish for me some duck feet. What did I do, I made a list of the pros vs. cons…

Pros

1. No more shopping for shoes. No more shoes period.
2. I would not have to worry about getting my feet wet in bad weather.
3. No more darn scuff marks.
4. Pedicures would be a thing of the past.
5. I would be a “shoe-in” for the olympic swim team.

Cons

1. I would get runs in all my pantyhose.
2. I would be the modern day version of Carrie (they’re all gonna laugh at you).
3. I couldn’t curl my toes.
4. I’d walk like a duck. (but at least I wouldn’t be pigeon toed)
5. I would not be permitted in to most restaurants.

….and people wonder why I wear the same shoes everyday, because they fit! Do you have a hard to buy for body part?

10 Best Jeans Under $100?

Who saw this on Yahoo! yesterday? Glam.com listed the top 10 places where you could get jeans for under $100.

Gap Long & Lean, $49.50
Levi’s Eco Collection, $78.00
J. Crew Overdyed Bootcut, $88.00
Paper Denim & Cloth Topaz, $88.00
Roxy Brooks Skinny Stretch Jeans, $44
Cheap Monday Tight Jean, $65
Victoria’s Secret Uplift, $68.00
Blank Skinny Jean, $68
Armani Exchange Rinse Skinny Jean, $98
Blue London Ultra Sexy Skinny Jean, $59.50

I’m sorry, these are still $100 jeans to me. Is the above list a bargain? My lifestyle requires me to keep more dress and pant suits in my closet, and I love to wear them as well, so I don’t buy a lot of jeans. I have just 2 pair. I go to Wal-Mart or wherever and snatch up a pair of jeans for less than $20 bucks, $30-$35 would be my limit if I’m feeling rich and I haven’t felt rich in years! What do $100 jeans do? I feel like Will Smith did in Men In Black, “I make this look good” in my $20 jeans.

Seriously though for those of you who live in denim, what do you pay for a pair of jeans and what is your dollar amount limit?

Here’s a short list of places where you can get jeans for less than $40.
JCPenney
Old Navy Jeans
Sears Jeans
Wal-Mart Jeans

For $100 those jeans better vibrate, on command!

Conversations With My Clothes

I look at the clothes in my closet the same way I stand with the refrigerator door open. Of course, I hope, there is food in the fridge, but for some reason I am unable to make a choice. The food is just not speaking to me. Nothing in there is yelling, EAT ME!. So there I stand, searching, hoping something will catch my eye and become ’stomach worthy’.

My practice is to prepare as much as I can the night before so that I don’t have to do it in the morning. This includes making lunches, setting the table for breakfast, packing bags, finding and ironing clothes for the next day. The latter is when my clothes taunt me, two closets full of clothes and nothing to wear!

My closet is set up so that I know exactly where things are and finding something to wear should not require too much time. From right to left, bottom portion, I have my blazers, pant suits, dress suits, slacks, skirts and 2 light jackets. The top row of my closet is for shirts, blouses and long dresses. For some reason when I look in my closets, we have conversations and they are saying evil things.

Tonight, I pull out a suit and it snidely reminds me that a button fell off months ago and still has not been sewn back on. I don’t do buttons, so I put it back. I grab a pair of slacks that gently reminds me that I gained ten pounds and if I wear them, they will hijack the bottom of my pants and expose my ankles. High-waters! Hmm? I needed those few extra inches in length, so I put them back, way in the back.

I reluctantly pull out a dress suit, as in skirt and jacket. I look at my blouses for a print to compliment my solid, then I hear a faint clearing of the throat and my suit says, ‘you don’t have a pair of shoes in this closet that will do me justice’. I gnarl at her comment and look down and my worn out shoes, they shrug. Hmmm, I think she’s right, tomorrow is Friday. I put the suit back.

I walk over to the other closet, which houses my more heavier items and they all scream in unison: global warming, we can’t come out of the closet yet. (Today was unusually warm in NJ and it was beautiful outside. Remind me to Google why global warming is bad again).

I close the door and walk back over to the other closet just to double check, maybe I missed something. Some clothes shout, “cleaners” others shout “you wore me two weeks ago”. Uggggghhh! I hate finding clothes to wear to work. Frankly, I think if I am going to be some where five days a week, somebody should supply me with a uniform. I would not have to go through this torture.

Finally, I cast my eyes on a pair of black slacks, I flash a climaxing grin because I know its over. I know what I’m wearing tomorrow. I take them off the hanger and drape them across the ironing board. The pants don’t protest and that’s great because I’ve been through enough tonight, I’ll press them in the morning. I’m tired!

Tomorrow, I ‘m going clothes shopping.