Cleanin' out the cobwebs and sprinkles.

I’m sitting here and pondering, pondering while I sit here, what to write, what to write. Besides my ass going numb nothing much comes to mind considering it’s been a pretty non descript day. It started out interesting, as I sat at the red light, threw up into my lunch bag and drove myself home. Since then I’ve done such stimulating things as sleep and play Bubble Popp on Facebook.

I miss my husband, whine, sniffle, whine. When I’m sick he takes care of me but he’s working nights all this week, leaving me to be the sole responsible adult at home, which seriously sucks by the way. When I ask Finnegan to go ask his daddy he just smiles at me patiently.

Good thing the kid is cute.

I think my tongue is starting to hurt less, but I can’t tell between the Gravol, the pain meds and the vomiting. Sigh, not much funny to say tonight, I’m still “clean living” although eating nothing doesn’t technically count. I wonder, if I eat a doughnut and then throw it up, does that count?

I’d try it but the sprinkles coming out of my nose would be a bitch.

Now I have to go climb into bed before I pass out and drool on my keyboard and my laptop finally bites the big one (it’s hanging on by a thread). Then I’d have to fight the masses for the desktop computer.

Snooooozzzeee.

Tongue tied

My frantic blog readers, I have not forgotten you (okay maybe it’s just me and Wilber reading this so Wilber, my imaginary friend, I would never forget about you. Well except that time with all of the tequila…). It’s hard to think of clean living when your tongue feels like it has been battered, deep fried and sewn to the side of my mouth.

I had a growth on my tongue, caused apparently by a broken filling rubbing and causing a cut, which constantly tried to repair itself (Because I’m obviously super human). The unfortunate thing is it couldn’t so it did the next best thing, it grew a penis. So sadly my tongue had to be castrated. The specialist seemed to think the recovery would be slim to none, I would be fine after. He has obviously never had someone hack off a piece of his tongue, stitch it up and then cauterize it. I think his idea of recovery and mine differ slightly!

Now I’m on antibiotics, Tylenol 3’s and anti inflammatory meds, which makes my stomach hurt and me want to spew, so I’m also on Gravol. Talk about clean living, I must have lost at least 2 ounces off my tongue this week, so maybe this really is working.

A quick question for you, do you think pork rinds could be considered clean living? Probably not, but since I can’t swallow anyway, I doubt it matters. But I’m still sexy, especially since I can’t stop drooling.

So until another day without the pleasant glow of medications blurring my mind and causing me to hallucinate, bye bye

Like a Dump Truck

I sat and read my email this morning, sifting through junk mail and jokes my friends send me when I came across the email titled "Rules of Marriage as described by kids" and almost spit out my scrambled egg whites (and not just because they taste like rubber nothing either) when I got to question number nine:

9. HOW WOULD YOU MAKE A MARRIAGE WORK?

Answer:

Tell your wife that she looks pretty, even if she looks like a dump truck . -- Ricky , age 10

Ricky is going to have a long and successful marriage one day. Thanks to Ricky I managed to eat my fibre filled, boring protein, sixteen litres of water breakfast without frowning for once. Although little Ricky almost made me pee my pants, which would have been a disaster given the amount of water I’d just consumed.

I’m contemplating asking Scott if I resemble a dump truck just to watch the deer in the headlights look come across his face while he thinks of the best answer that will not land him in the doghouse. Speaking of supporting loving husbands my wonderful, fantastic, soon to be dead husband just sat down next to me and plopped down a box of Lowney’s Chocolate cherries, my absolute favourite, right next to where I’m typing and proceeded to pop one into his mouth.

I tell you if that man wasn’t so damn cute he’d be dead.

Tomorrow will be the two week mark of my “clean living” and still no remarkable results. Sadly, I still look like a dump truck, but thanks to all of the fibre, veggies, milled flaxseed, I feel more like a manure truck.

Until next time.

Holy crap - I think I died

Okay, stop the world, I have a revelation. Apparently I am innately prone to wanting immediate gratification. Patience is not my strong suit. Scott, stop snorting, it’s not polite!

It’s been a week and 2 days and nothin’! I don’t feel much better, I haven’t lost any weight and I’ve probably peed the equivalent of Niagara falls! I know it takes time but darn it, I want it now!

I did my first aerobics class in I don’t know how long, it was labelled “Low Impact”. My god, I thought I was going to die, as the instructor in her cute little shorts and her tight abs jumped back and forth, I fumbled and bumbled in the back, going right when everyone else went left and vice versa. By about half way through I thought she was surely trying to kill the new kid in class and by the end I couldn’t walk without wobbling. It was almost more gruelling than giving birth and some of the positions certainly corresponded! My face was so red by the end of the class people were giving me weary looks.

I especially LOVED working out in front of a mirror. So my choices were stare at the perfect instructor or stare at the fat blob in the red tee shirt and a face to match doing the human wave (every step and my fat would wobble up and down, super sexy). In fact it was so attractive; I’m surprised the few men working out on weights didn’t jump me.

Anyway, I’m exercising, I’m eating right, so show me the results!

Dieting sucks

Ever have one of those mornings that you just don’t want to get out of bed? That would be me this morning, snugly in my warm cocoon of blankies and warm hubby when that annoying beep, beep, beep persistently bothers my sleep. So I drag my ass out of bed and crawl into the shower to feel human again.

Since that moment, I have to force myself not to drive home and climb back into that nest of oblivion. I could take my jacket and work out gear and make a nest under my desk but I doubt I could get away with it for long. My office door is opaque (looks kind of like a shower door, rolls like one too) and I could just imagine the view my staff would get of me.

So here I sit, taking a quick break to eat my tuna, beets and mushrooms, all healthy, all good for me and none of it smothered in chocolate!

I drove through the Tim Horton’s drive through this morning to get Tea to attempt to ease my caffeine head ache and there sitting at the pickup window was a breakfast sandwich sitting there, staring at me from the counter, with its evilly wonderful smell assaulting my senses. It wasn’t mine, must have been the next car’s order but man I’ve never wanted to take a bite out of someone else’s sandwich as much as I wanted to take a bite out of that one!

Dieting sucks. Yeah, I know, this isn’t a diet it’s a “change of lifestyle” but I swear if my ass wasn’t taking over the square footage of my spaces I wouldn’t be changing my lifestyle! Now for the exercise! I have my workout gear and I plan on going after work. The problem is all I can think about is that nice, comfortable, WARM bed at home, silently beckoning me to slip between its sheets and sleep. Its evil I tell you. E.V.I. L.

Anyhoo, my ass doesn’t look any smaller yet and I still have my front bum. What’s a front bum you ask? Well stand sideways looking in a mirror. Okay does your front resemble the curve of your ass? Can you tell which one is the front and which one is the back? If the answer is yes it resembles or no I can’t tell the difference, then you have a front bum.

Week 1 - my change of lifestyle (no not Diet!)

Well here it is, Monday January 11, 2010, exactly one week into my “change of lifestyle”. No it’s not a diet; it’s a way of life! Okay, it may be a little like a diet.

I’ve drank so much water this week I sound like Austin Powers after he’s de-thawed every time I go to the bathroom. You know when you go into the bathroom and the person in the stall next to you keeps peeing, and peeing, and peeing, and peeing, and peeing, and peeing until you think they may never stop? That’s ME. I have a bladder the size of a thimble and I’m drinking about 4 litres of water a day, so imagine all the exercise I get going back and forth to the bathroom all day.

Well that’s multi-tasking for you! Seriously, I’ve decided to “eat clean” this year to attempt to shed the mere forty five pounds I’ve been toting around all of 2009 and to feel better overall. This means no sugar, no white flour, no artificial sweeteners, etc. So far so good, I have discovered my bladder works and there is sugar in EVERYTHING!

I haven’t had diet coke for a week and I’m just fine, no crankiness (right honey?!?!) and no headaches… ok may one or four headaches, but I’m NOT BITCHY!

I’ve exercised three times in this past week and my legs are so stiff they feel like the bendy parts are fused together. I went for a walk with Scott yesterday and had a lovely bonding time while exercising.

Scott made some great suggestions, such as how about we take a walk in the van, after a block, how about he goes back and gets the van, when we walked by Electronic Arts he suggested I leave him there and go on without him. He kept stopping and stretching his legs like he’d just run a marathon. It was GREAT, thanks honey!

Anyway, if you are reading this and are not my imaginary friend, feel free to comment and give me suggestions on losing weight. And yes Scott, I understand going to the bathroom helps you lose weight, but that doesn’t count!

Stay tuned for more fun and exciting times in the life of me…