I Still Have My Sense of Humor

This is hilarious!

I'm DONE.

I did the 24-hour urine test. I just got back from delivering it to the hospital lab.

I hated, hated, hated doing this. I was in a foul mood all day yesterday.

1) What brainiac designed the toilet insert to collect the urine??? It has a tiny indentation to pour--only it doesn't work. The "liquid" does not stay in the indentation, it pours all over the sides. Mess, disgusting mess. I ended up using a disposable cup to collect so I didn't spill. And yes, I did spill and it ran down the outside of the collection container. OY.

2) What brainiac developed the container to store the "liquid"? It was so cheap, the lid didn't fit well. It was too tall to fit in my fridge, so I had to put it in at an angle, then stand it upright. Okay, do you see a problem here? Lid didn't fit/tip to get it in the fridge?

Yes, I spilled a tiny bit of urine in my fridge. Yes, I had a major meltdown over that. I was livid. Yes, I thoroughly sanitized my fridge, bitching the whole time.

That was absolutely revolting to me--plus you could smell urine in the fridge. I'm halfway tempted to throw out all our food; however, everything is sealed so it should be good, plus I intentionally timed this so there wasn't much in the fridge. Nothing got wet, except the paper towels that were on top of the plastic lining that I was storing the jug on. Gross, gross, gross.

3) I refuse to do this again. Ever. I know it's just pee, but it was one of the most disgusting, grossest things I've ever done. Never again. And I know darned well I will be doing it again. But I reserve the right to bitch whenever I feel like it--which is now.

I'm actually in a better mood today and trying to make fun of myself with this post. I was not happy yesterday and emailed my husband to let him know to stay far away from me. He was actually very supportive and didn't get on my last nerve when he got home, thankfully. He thought it was gross, too, and he could smell it.

Oh, and another thing--I had to run to the lab yesterday afternoon to get a second container. I drink 8-10 ounces of water an hour, per doctor's orders. They gave me a jug that holds about a half gallon of liquid. Um, that container was not big enough for the amount of water I drink. Next time I have to do this, and I refuse to ever do it again, I'm demanding two jugs from the get go. But I'm never doing it again.

Yup. I'm a baby. It's no big deal in the scheme of things, but it really repulses me, the thought of urine in my fridge where we keep our food. Yuck, yuck, yuck.

Thanks for allowing me to bitch. It's out of my system and now I can move on with things. It wasn't that bad, really. (Yes it was, it was awful.) It was just a pain to have to stay home all day by the toilet/fridge. Eww. Toilet and fridge should never be used in the same sentence. Ever.

Trying to be goofy and find my sense of humor.

Speaking of sense of humor, I found the funniest blog! It's got adult language, but last night a friend posted a link to it and I laughed so hard I cried. I want a big metal chicken. Here's the blog, and specifically the post that had me roaring.

Up from a Snooze with a Funny

Last snack stayed with me, so I had another. Gotta love Lipton's envelope noodle soup: tons of salt and a few noodles thrown in.

Lots of cat naps tonight.

Just thought of the most embarrassing thing that happened to me this year. Went into my room, changed and put on the regular-sized gown. (Victory there!) A nurse and intern asked questions, then the anesthesiologist came in and we talked quite a bit. He left, the nurses left and hubby and DS came in.

Hubby just had to tell me this: "Um, Jo, your breast is showing." I looked down and there was a rip in the gown and sure enough, I was hanging out. It was at nipple level, so I'm sure that doc got an eye full! Good grief!

Forgot all about it and the recovery nurse I had noticed it. She said she'd dispose of the gown when I was done.

Me, oh so modest, letting it all hang out. I can laugh because they've seen it all in their line of work and I'm sure I won't be remembered...but we'll remember it and chuckle about it. At the moment it was discovered, I think I was blushing.

I'd create a new label entitled drug-induced rambling, but I don't want that on my side bar. ;-)

Tuesday Ramblings

The past few days my leg has been really swollen. I didn't injure it, and couldn't figure it out. Meanwhile, it's been really cold, well below zero with the windchill (we're talking -20/-30 range) and so I pulled the space heater out for the kitchen. We homeschool at the kitchen table, our back door is right next to us, and it gets cold letting dogs in and out.

D'oh! Saturday I figured out the swollen leg thing. I have heat-induced edema. That space heater was sitting on the floor, about three feet from my feet. Removed the space heater, drank a gazillion gallons of water, did some health bouncing on the rebounder, and I'm almost back to normal. It was the space heater doing it to me!

Fortunately, our temps are in the high 20s this week, so we won't be needing it.

~~~
This morning as we were doing school at the table, I got up and used the restroom. When I returned to the kitchen, my son was sitting at the table doing his work but every cupboard in the kitchen was wide open. We watched The Sixth Sense not too long ago, and he thought that would be a hilarious prank to pull on me. I do admit, it was funny! It was startling to walk into the room and see that. I love his sense of humor.

~~~
That's about it. Not much new here. I've worked out already this morning, life's just sailing along. Sometimes I'm really chatty here, and sometimes I can't think of anything to say. Right now I just don't have anything much to share.

Hope everyone has a great week.

Don't Swallow Bubble Gum

Comment from Son

As I was sitting eating my cottage cheese after working out, my son comes up, takes a look and says,

"Mom, your shirt is soaked! Good job!"

It doesn't get any better than that exercise-wise, does it?

Laugh at Me Part Two

See this hair? This photo I took in the middle of August. I had taken an entire year to grow out the gray, chopping off a majority of my hair in February, and growing it out again. I was never, ever going to dye my hair again. It's a PITA.

When August hit, I started re-thinking that. Hubby mentioned a few times, "Wow, you're really getting gray." I looked at photos of my mom about 5 years older than I was where she had gone gray and she looked awful.

Besides that, my roots were really, really dark. The ends always turn red. There are dark blonde hairs in there, too. I was a multi-colored mess.

So, I bit the bullet, bought two boxes of dye.

I screwed up. My hair is closer to black now than the brown I was going for. I've never made a hair coloring mistake like this before. It's drastic.

See the previous photo I posted!

However, there are some up sides to this mistake. I'm a little self-conscious about my weight. I get embarrassed when people notice the loss instead of being happy. So when school started, and after-school activities reared up again, I was around people I hadn't seen all summer. Instead of noticing that I had lost 20 pounds since I last saw them, the only comments I got were: Your hair! You colored your hair!! Wow. lol

I don't know if I'm going to keep this color or not. If I don't, I'll have to go a salon and find someone who can fix it, which won't be cheap as dark is really hard to correct. On the positive, with my blue eyes, I look fantastic in blue--it's amazing how the dark hair and blue colors work together. It's not me, although for the first time in my life, my hair matches my naturally dark eyebrows. And my roots.

Anyway, we think it's funny. I screwed up, and I do laugh at people's responses.

You have to be able to laugh at yourself in life. This was just too funny not to!

Go Ahead, Laugh at Me (I'm laughing!)

When buying new exercising clothing, check the back to see if it is a T or a regular tank. I did not. We had a huge laugh over this. I do not own any T-backed bras. Three of the four exercise shirts I bought are T-backed.

Go ahead, laugh. We did!

Be Careful What You Ask For

Monday when we were shopping for husband's new wardrobe, I did a little shopping for myself, too. We were at Kohl's, and I walked around the active wear section. I wanted some workout pants, specifically capri style. I was looking for a 2XLG, because of my big belly.

Zip, zilch, nada. The sizes went up to XL.

So I purchased five pair of pajama pant bottoms, capri style, which were on sale for $5 apiece. I got two 2XL and three XLs. That should do me for awhile.

As the clerk started ringing me up, she asked, "Did you find everything you were looking for?" I said, "Well, now that you ask, no, I did not. People my size exercise, too. There was nothing in your active wear section in my size." She asked what size I wanted, I stated a 2XL, and then she did it.

The clerk turned to another gal who was miles away (two sections over) and hollered out: Do we have any plus size active wear? Size 2XL? Oh, for the love of Pete, I wished the earth would open up right then and swallow me. There were a lot of people around. Granted, if you look at me, you know I'm plus size. But sheesh, did she have to announce it to the whole flippin' store? The gal hollered back, "Yes, X brand (I forget) carries plus size.

So the gal came and got me and we walked through that department together. Was she ever shocked that there really wasn't any plus sized stuff. She kept pulling out XL stuff. Nope, not quite there yet. Then she told me that I could order the stuff online. I said the problem with that is that I can't try it on, and clothes sizes run differently, pants are cut differently, and it's really best to try things online. I then told her it was really unfair--not her fault, but it stinks. She agreed, and told me that she has that problem with the junior department, too, as they make and sell plus sized junior stuff online, but not in the store.

So I bought my pajama bottoms, didn't tell them what they were for, and left. Thank God I exercise at home!

I did also look at JCPenney and another store that carried plus size, but no active wear was to be found in my size.

So we're supposed to work out, eat healthy and lose weight, but yet we can't go into a store and by clothes to work out in until we've done all the hard work and lost the weight. Hmmm.

Guess what else the clerk told me? They used to carry plus sized active wear, but it didn't sell. I don't know if she was telling me the truth, trying to placate me or what.

Oh well. The good news is that I tried all the capri pajama pants on and every single pair fit, even the three XLs. I can wear them all now--in fact, I have a pair on right now. How cool is that? Yet, it's not the same as pants. I have found pajama bottoms are cut looser and bigger than pants. I'm still excited that the XLs fit.

I had a difficult time shopping in that I didn't know what sizes to try on. I ended up buying one size of 20 pants and four shirts which were all marked 18/20. That sure beats the size 24 I started out with!

I cannot wait until I can fit into capri exercise pants. I'd like the French terry pants. I'd like some yoga pants. Shoot, I'd like anything other than the cheap sweatpants I'm used to from Wal-mart. At least I could always find those and they always fit.

I will think twice before telling a clerk I didn't find what I was looking for again!

About That Weigh In This Morning...

TMI ahead, I'm talking about poop. Quit reading if you find that crass.

This morning, I woke up late, went potty, weighed, poured a cup of coffee and hubby came home. We visited while I drank my coffee. I told him I was up a pound.

Our discussion:

Hubby: Have you pooped yet?
Me: No.
Hubby: Do you normally poop before you weigh in or after?
Me: I normally do No. 1 & 2 before hopping on the scale.
Hubby: Go do your business then hop on the scale again. That will be your true reading. Be consistent.

I did. Ahem. The scale read 238. Down a pound from the earlier weigh in.

I'm still leaving the gain on the side bar. I didn't have time to post this as I showered and we headed out the door. It's been on my mind all day. Did I gain or did I stay the same?

My conclusion: It doesn't matter! If I was to the point where it was in the back of my mind all day, I'm making way too much out of it. It's just a number and in the scheme of my journey, it means nothing.

I do know this: My dad is up in heaven laughing his a$$ off. And if he could speak, this is what he would say: I always knew you were full of shit.

Sorry for being so crass, but sometimes I'm like that. And my dad really would have said that had I actually told him about it--but I probably wouldn't have told him. lol
~~~~~~
We had a great day today, and I'll post some NSVs and some pictures later tonight or tomorrow!

Wait and Weight

When I left the house early this morning, my weight was 245.5. That floored me, and is more than likely a fluke. However, I stepped on the scale several times and it was the same.

Before I left the center today, the nurse told me not to worry about drinking as I was so well hydrated that it should last a couple days.

I just stepped on the scale and it said 252.5. Holy hydration, Batman.

That didn't upset me at all, rather, I found it absolutely fascinating. I will be curious what tomorrow's weight will be, and of course my official Monday weigh-in.

Any time you have a stress to your body, it's bound to change the chemistry. So it's obvious to me that weight will be effected by that.

Strangely, I have not had to go to the bathroom at all today. Normally I drink enough water and stuff that I should buy stock in a toilet paper company.

Interesting.

Anyway, I'm waiting for tomorrow morning. I pulled something funny. See, when hubby went to get my pills and groceries, he didn't get me a $5 bunch of flowers. I really thought he would. I love those little grocery store flowers because they're cheap and pretty. He knows that.

Hubby forgot to get pop, so he just ran out and got me some Diet 7-Up. It's a good thing he forgot, because I originally asked for sugar pop. The nice nurse put a few cans in our bag, which I didn't know about. Those are gone now.

Anyway, he took my son. I was sure he would go to Wal-mart and also pick up a $5 bunch of flowers.

Nope.

So just for the record, my husband was in Alabama all week and was supposed to leave today. The boss okayed him leaving due to my surgery. It was an imposition for his work, but as hubby said, family comes first. His flight got delayed and he got home late last night. And last night I was in a frenzy and nervous and worried. We had to drive him to his work so he could drop off the company car. I couldn't take my xanax until we got home.

So here he worked hard all week out of town, hurried home, showed up three hours later than he was supposed to (he did call but he was late with his estimate), got me up this morning, which is not an easy task, listened to me chatter on the way up, waited patiently, was attentive, drove me home, got my meds, got me mac and cheese (the food that made me fat to begin with! lol), and he's just a lovable guy. Really, he is. He works hard and takes good care of us.

But as the song goes, "You don't bring me flowers anymore."

So I got online, logged in at Hy-Vee, our grocery store, found that 25 roses were on special for $35 and I bought them. I signed the card, "We love you, hubby and son." They will be delivered tomorrow.

I cannot wait to see their expressions when I read the card. And I am going to pretend like they did it. lol

~~~
The doctor told me this was supposed to be a spa weekend. And to me, that means I need to go into Diva mode. Isn't that what a diva would do? I set out looking for carnations, which are my favorites, but the roses were the cheapest, so I'm not that much of a diva. lol Well, I could have got 3 flowers in a vase, but I wanted a bit more than that.

So am I selfish, ornery, a diva? Or am I being fun and playful with a devious streak? I guess I could blame it on narcotics. I think it's funny.

At least we'll have beautiful smelling flowers in the house that will make me smile every time I see them. =)

Smug

Just when things are turning for the better, health is getting taken care of, I get a confirmation of good blood pressure once again, a doctor becoming animated over my weight loss...

When I'm feeling like I'm on top of the world, kicking butt on this weight loss journey, going strong...

I realized...

I'm getting cocky.

I think that karma was due to bite me in the butt. It did last night.

Last night when we went out to dinner to celebrate the appointment being over and finally knowing what's going on, I was humbled. Really humbled.

They put us in a booth.

Can you see where this is going? I sat down and dog gone it, there was not room for me in the booth. I looked my hubby in the eye, said his name quietly, and he discretely pulled the table toward him. (God love that man.)

I scooted in, took the menu and wondered how red my face was. When it was just us, I looked at hubby and said: After losing 30 pounds, this is still happening? What would this situation have looked like in February when I was 30 pounds heavier and my stomach was a lot bigger?

God was just reminding me that while I've done a great job so far, my task is not complete. Oh yeah, I'm still morbidly obese.

This didn't make me sad, I didn't get all negative in my thinking. I was thankful that it wasn't worse, like it would have been if I were still 282.5. It strengthened my resolve. We enjoyed our dinner, and yes, I stayed on plan.

Weighing in Crazies

This post could have different titles:

1) Weigh-in Rituals

or

2) Why I Don't Attend Weight Watchers Meetings

Either title would apply to this post.

In 2002, I lost over 70 pounds by attending Weight Watchers. I quit, gained it all back plus a few, and here I am again. This time I chose Weight Watchers Online.

The weigh-in rituals were bad. I had some stinking thinking going on.

I live in a small town. We have one Weight Watchers meeting on Wednesday nights. No others to choose from, no Weight Watchers facility, just the lovely church basement where the meetings were had.

I loved our leader. That was because I knew her outside of Weight Watchers. She has a son a year younger than mine, and we were in Cub Scouts together. She was our Popcorn chairperson (an unenviable volunteer position) and did a fantastic job. I was a den leader. We saw each other a lot, and I always enjoyed her company. Her husband was really nice, too.

I started dreading meetings, though. She was the reason I went, but my thinking got ugly. I started in with those stupid weigh-in rituals. Our weigh-in time started at 6 pm. The meeting started at 6:30. Right off the bat, that is our supper time. No way would I eat *before* attending a meeting. By the time I got home, I was starving.

Wednesdays were very unhealthy for me. I would eat a normal breakfast and lunch, but refused to drink anything in the afternoon, let alone have a snack.

I would force myself to pee. I was obsessed with getting everything out of my body. The whole afternoon, I would go into the bathroom every so often and try to get rid of whatever I could get rid of.

When it was time to get ready to leave, I would change my clothes. I wore the thinnest, most light-weight yoga pants I could find and a light-weight shirt. Not smart, in Minnesota in the winter. I wore slip-on shoes with no socks. If people at the meeting noticed me, they would think I owned only one set of clothing.

When arriving at the meeting, I would go to the bathroom. Gotta get rid of every last drop.

I would stand in line and watch the women. (There were only two men there.) I wasn't the only one with rituals. These ladies would undress themselves as much as public decency would allow. They took off their jewelry, even their rings. The took off the shoes. Some would even take hair clips or pony tail holders out of their hair. They would do this while standing in line, which means the person next to them often got an elbow. Then many would be standing there holding all this stuff and suddenly realize they had to go to the bathroom. Their stuff would be on the floor holding their place in line.

I was lucky in that I could do that at home before I left the meeting, otherwise I would have been the same as them.

When I would finally arrive to the scale, I would be hoping and praying that the scale on the right would be the one I got. See, I had a preference. It made no difference that those scales were put up after each meeting, and the odds were that I had weighed on both many times, I simply HAD to go to the scale on the right. If I was unlucky enough to have the scale on the left, I was really upset. Seriously!

When I started out, I kept my shoes on. I figured I'd have a bad week somewhere along the line and need to slip the shoes off for an added boost some week. Yes, that happened, and I became another who would take her shoes off.

The second I stepped on the scale, I would exhale--have to get all that extra stuff like air out of the lungs for the weigh-in.

As JackSh*t posted, I would also get haircuts on Wednesdays because, you know, a half-inch hair trim makes all the difference in the world. Oh, and I would clip my nails on Wednesday afternoons, too--fingers and toes.

I was absolutely obsessed with the weigh-in rituals.

It was insane.

The minute I got home, I was famished. Oh, let me set myself up for a binge here with this crazy thinking and the crazy rituals. I didn't actually binge ever, but I was in crazy "I need to eat NOW" mode.

Many of the women at the meeting would sit down and eat a WW 2-point bar after weigh-in. I suspect I wasn't the only one who had chosen not to eat on Wednesday afternoons.

I was one who paid as I went. I got smart and started going to meetings every other week, which would guarantee a loss-a bigger loss. Even when I did that, I still did the stupid weigh-in rituals.

NONE OF THAT WAS HEALTHY. It was bad physically and emotionally.

That is why I do not attend meetings this time. I know I would fall into that stupid trap again.

Now, I weigh myself every morning. My official weigh-in day is Monday, but I like to weigh daily as it keeps me on track.

Gone are the stupid rituals. Now my Monday-morning ritual is this: Wake up, go potty, strip down to my birthday suit, hop on the scale. Done. Some Mondays I wait a bit to see if, well, you know, if I could get rid of something else. Because something else is weight, you know. This morning I waited a half hour, but didn't have that, um, constitutional. That's about as crazy as my weigh-ins are now.

I was laughing at myself this morning. Not long after I weighed in and logged my info in on the computer, I had my morning constitutional. I was down another half pound. Damn! Had I only waited. I laughed because I knew better. I'm not going into that stupid thinking anymore. It is what it is. If I am truly down another half pound (which I believe I am, because Saturday and Sunday I had the same weight as my post-constitutional weigh in this morning) it will just have to wait to be recorded until next week.

While I would like to visit with Patty, my lovely Weight Watchers leader that I no longer see because our boys are done with Cub Scouts, I choose to put my health first. I am not going to get into that stupid thinking pattern any more. If I went to a meeting, that stinking thinking would be back in a heartbeat. So I choose to set myself up for health instead.

~~~
The toilet monster is a funny little joke my son played on me a few years ago. He knows Mom heads straight for the bathroom first thing every morning, and he thought he was clever. He was, it was funny, even though I almost peed my pants ripping the monster off and out of the way. He snapped the photo himself. =)

Laughter

Getting ready for obedience class tonight, I put on a pair of denim capris that came straight out of the dryer. They were not small enough for me to think of getting a new size--in the waist. In the butt? Oh my gosh, do they hang. I couldn't believe the amount of extra fabric. I ran to my bedroom, grabbed a hand mirror, stood on a trunk and looked at my butt in the mirror.

On a weight loss journey, you MUST be able to laugh at yourself.

My butt is much smaller. It is very defined (well, in comparison to the rest of my body.) My legs are thinning. But the spare tire? Oh my gosh, it's huge. Here's the funny part. I lifted my shirt up to my waist, and pulled my capris tight across my butt. Right then, my husband walked in the room. Crickets. Neither of us said a word. Then we both burst out in laughter. It appears like I have a size 16 butt with this great-big ring of fat on my hips and belly. It looks like I am a doll, and someone screwed the wrong size, too small bottom on a fat top.

It is hilarious. I can laugh because I know my body is changing. I know that spare tire will be gone. Hopefully soon. I wish the weight would come off in better proportion, but who am I to complain, my butt is getting smaller!

I didn't have a camera handy. I don't know that I want to show that off anyway. The baggy capris in the butt is one thing, but it just looks so weird. It is funny.

All I can say is thank God for long tops.

Obsession

It's no secret that I love Richard Simmons. I have had my box of videos sitting on the chair in my living room for about two weeks now. Tired of the clutter, I pulled my favorites and put them in a basket. The rest I put in the closet. I have two DVDs that are not in this photo, Party Off the Pounds and Boogie Down the Pounds DVD, too.

I have more weights that aren't in the photo.

The videos not in cases are Richard Simmons videos. Yes, that is an unopened Leslie Sansone DVD in my box. I don't know why I have the Yoga tapes, I can't do yoga to save my life. Someday, maybe.

Neatly tucked away for my next workout. I decided they needed a home out in the open since I use them a lot.

Yes, I love Richard Simmons and I'm not afraid to admit it.

UFOs Here Last Night

There was a UFO here last night. The aliens beamed straight into my bedroom, took me to their spaceship and performed surgery on me. They did not leave a scar. Then they replaced me.

I completely forgot about it when I woke up this morning. I didn't remember it until I started working out to Richard Simmons' Sweatin' to the Oldies 2. Then I remembered. They implanted 20-pound weights into each arm.

Either that, or the workout I did yesterday, RS's Blast and Tone, really worked my arms harder than I thought. It was amazing how sore my arms were today, I could hardly lift them toward the end of the video. I felt the burn!

~~~
I in no way mean to be offensive to people who believe in UFO's or aliens or any of that. I have, in fact, seen something a few years ago that I could not logically explain. I'm not saying it was a UFO, but I'm not ruling it out, either. I'm just trying to be funny.

No aliens were harmed in the writing of this post, though.

I'm a Rebel

Last night I mentioned that Weight Watchers took away 3 points from me. I do WW online.

Well, since I stated this journey, I have been using my Winning Points book as a guide. I never count tomato juice with points, and Winning Points gives it free. Momentum does not. I feel more comfortable with the range than a target.

I was looking through my program materials this morning and I decided I have to make the decision: The new Momentum program OR old Winning Points. I lost 72 pounds once before on Winning Points. Yeah, I think I'll stick with it.

I like it because I have the book to hold in my hand. I don't like WW Online because it takes so long to find anything.

So according to Winning Points, I can eat in a range: 28-33 points. On Momentum, I have been dropped to a target of 30. I have always eaten at the top of the range. So I think I'm going to stick with 33 for a bit and see what happens.

I don't eat activity points. I rarely use the 35 flex points, which are not a part of Winning Points.

It has to all wash out. I'll still have some extra points floating out there due to activity.

I'm a creature of habit and I don't like change. There are some days, gasp!, where I can't hit the target and I am under. That's okay on Winning Points.

I'm playing mind games here. It's the same program, just tweaked. That 3-point drop was just a jolt to me. Winning Points only has 2-point drops. Why is it that 2 points seems more doable than 3 points?

I can shave 3 points off daily very easily--I know just where to take it from. I just would prefer to do 2--it doesn't sound so abrupt, so sudden, like so much all at once. lol And the weird thing is, Winning Points keeps me at 33, which is what I have been eating. The old 1-2-3 program (for which I have the book!) had a point range of 28-35 for my weight.

This rambling post is just a big whine on my part. I'm revolting at losing 3 points. I'm sputtering, making excuses, and grasping at straws in revolt.

All right, already, I'll just give up the darned 3 points and be done with it.

Then again, if I were to follow Momentum and actually use the Flex points divided up weekly, my target would be 35 daily, which is 2 points higher than what I was allowed previously...

lmao. I need to get a grip.

I'm Goofy

I've got the giggles. I'm very tired, trying to relax a bit before heading off to bed. I was just reading TJ's blog, where she posted the picture of "that" and how creepy and scary it is. I so get that. When I first saw "that" I stared at it for about five minutes, blew it up as large as I could, trying to figure out what it was. I still don't know.

Then I got the giggles, and then they got loud. I woke up my son. That's how GOOFY I am. He came out and looked at the picture, rolled his eyes and said, "I know it looks like an alien, but MOM, it's photoshopped." Then he went back to bed.

He took all my tired fun away. I was really laughing about this. All because I read TJ's reaction to it, and I had the SAME reaction the first time I saw it, fearing it could sneak into my house or something.

I then left a stupid and goofy comment on her blog. TJ, congrats on reaching 100 posts. "That" is not your prize. I was just kidding. Forgive me for being tired and silly.

~~~~

In other goofy news, we had our dog obedience class tonight. The teacher didn't show, so the assistant taught the class. Um, no comment. lol Before class, I mentioned that there is an Olive Garden in this town, and since it's my favorite restaurant in the world, we could eat there tonight instead of Taco Bell and celebrate Mother's Day early. Everyone agreed.

After class, my husband pipes up and says: "We can't go to the Olive Garden, we just bought dog food, a new long-line leash, a new water dummy and I don't want to spend the money."

I didn't say a word.

I was driving. Guess--just guess where we ate dinner?

The great news? I ordered my favorite, Cheese Ravioli. I had a large salad with dressing on the side, one breadstick, and by the time I had eaten half the ravioli on my plate, I was STUFFED. I was floored. My stomach must be smaller. I had enough points to eat the whole thing, but I couldn't! This is an absolute first. I used to put away the entire ravioli, a salad, and tons of breadsticks.

I recognized I was full, I stopped eating and got a doggie bag to bring it home. So lunch or dinner tomorrow.

I told my husband after dinner that this is how skinny people live. (I assume.) They enjoy great food that they love from time to time, but they are not gluttons. This is how I want to live the rest of my life, not only recognizing when I'm full, but actually stop eating when I'm full. How cool is that!

Kelly Made Me Laugh!

In response to my progress photos, Kelly stated:

"I see a difference too. Especially in your face. :P just kidding." ...

I laughed so hard I snorted.

Some things just really strike you as funny, and this did.

Thank you for the laugh, Kelly.

Happy Easter!