Okay, I am gonna tell ya a little bit about what I have been doing for my workouts.  I have started a new fast loss program, called High Intensity Interval Training (HIIT).  This is a super fun, super fast workout that gives you all the benefits of a really long, really HARD cardio workout.  What it is is basically walking for 2 minutes, and sprinting for 60 seconds, and repeat for your entire workout.  I aim for 20-30 minutes, with approximately 6-10 sprints throughout. Please refer to this article here for more information, or go straight to Home Fitness for Women and read her article on blast training, which is the same concept.

http://www.intervaltraining.net/hiit.html

I follow this up with the Yoga Booty Ballet for the strength training, and so far, it seems to be working.  I most definitely recommend giving this a try, although it totally sucks in this heat. Even with the AC on

It has been so freaking super hot and muggy, no one has the energy to do anything besides breath. Because of this, I have spent tons and tons of time in Sarah’s pool lately.  Usually with a million splashing, whining kids.  But on Sunday….Ohhhh. Sunday was FUNday.

Sarah invited a few people over to swim and cook out the rest of the food from camping.  No one had their kids, so it was looking like a nice, hot day in the pool. There were 9 of us all together, and combine us, 5 giant super soakers, poorly tied bathing suit tops, and a floating cooler full of beer, and you are talking one hell of a party. We spent the entire day playing water games, and getting out of the pool long enough to only eat,  pee, and play a quick game of cornhole.  What a super fun day, I must say.

After dinner sometime, everyone thought what a great idea it would be to play some Chicken in the pool.  So here we all go, climbing on top of peoples’ shoulders, and battling it out right in the pool. I took down Laura ( and her top, too. Which is why I ALWAYS wear a tank top over my suit) then on to  Kim ( who was easy…once you get her laughing, she’s all done) and then I was on to Sarah.  Well, let me tell ya, this was no easy feat.  It was like Clash of the Titans, all arms swinging and roaring and screaming.   She was on Bob, who was holding her so tight, her calves almost bled.  I was on Dave, who’s main mission was to get me behind them so I could take her down.  A few scratches, a million bruises and one bloody nose later, Sarah took me down. Backwards.  Still attached to Dave.

So Sarah is the new Queen of Chicken. 

Bitch.

On Monday morning, Dave woke up and couldn’t move from the shoulders up.  Poor guy.  FatChick broke his damn neck.  I feel kinda bad for him.  I don’t know who in the hell gave us all a license to act like freaking 13 year olds.

Oh yeah, Anheuser Busch.  My bad… I forgot.

May I start with many humble apologies for my long time absence, from writing AND the workouts…I have managed to fit in 5 workouts the entire month.  Pitiful.  And also a many many thanks to you all for your words of encouragement to get me back on here. It has not been an easy summer, let me just tell ya this. 

We have managed to hold on to the house, for now, with our attorney battling Ocwen every day. The sale has been postponed 5 times now, and just again until mid August.  I have resigned myself to the fact that it is over.  I just don’t freaking care anymore. We have a lovely place to go, if needed, and every day I stay here, I find myself resenting the place more and more.  Dave, on the other hand, is still hopeful. It just breaks my heart.

On the days that I do find myself with some free time, you MUST know where I am.  Yup…Sarah’s, with the gang, on the no kids days. I love that they all have “no kids” days.  I am the...

This past weekend, I had my virginal voyage  with the 3rd Annual Tour de NA.  The Tour is a BMX style bike ride  around North Adams bars, with all proceeds going to a local children’s  charity.  Dudes, really. Drinking for charity? I am all over that….

So anyway, the bike ride is founded and operated by Davey’s boss, Kyle George.  So naturally, the Tour kicks off outside of the large garage on the HA George site. Sarah, Natalie, Kim and Bridget also took this maiden voyage with me.  We were nervous as hell, pulling up to HA George in a freakin mini van, and pulling out all our kids’ bikes from the cargo bay. ( A very special thanks to Bob Decker here, for fixing all the kids seats to their respective mother’s heights). We kinda strolled up to the massive, already formed and ready to go group( we were late, just a tad. Hey, we had to do our hair ya know!) bikes in tow, scared as hell to get on them.  At the announce of the ready, set, GO!, Sarah, Bridget and I lost sight of Nat and Kim…..We were yelling for them, searching the crowd….but ya know what? Those bitches took off without us! PATUH!

Anyway, the Tour stops at 12 bars throughout the day, starting with the Pitcher’s Mound and ending with the Hot Dog Ranch, throwing in 10 other local watering holes throughout downtown NA along the way.  Holy hell!

So I am going to tell you a few fun facts and little tid bits  about the Tour de NA…

1.  With your donation, you get REALLY cute shirts.  BONUS!

2. The distance  from HA George to the Pitcher’s Mound is wayyyyyyy farther than it looks. And that teeny tiny incline from the tracks  down to HA George, ya know, the one where you don’t have to put your foot on the gas in the car and just coast on through? Yeah, well, that is actually a HILL. A very long HILL.  Perhaps the largest HILL I have ever seen.

3. 90 drunks on BMX bikes navigating over scarrified, raised- man- holed roads is a very precarious situation.

4. Scarrified pavement makes your bike seat vibrate. And I may or may not have taken a few extra laps around the Pitcher’s Mound just to better enjoy this experience

5. It is entirely possible to  be hammered drunk by the 5th bar. As such, it is not recommended that you ride without both hands, nor should you attempt to look behind you while riding your bike.

6. Bikes should come with rearview mirrors.

7.  No, it is still not a good idea, after 5 bars, to try BMX Freestyle tricks on your bike in the middle of the parking lot. I don’t care what tricks you could do back in the day ( which, by the way, the “day” was somewhere in 1986 and you were 13). At this point, you are looking at a serious head injury and possible broken bones.

8. By the 8th bar, your ass REALLY hurts.  I want to know why, “back in the day”, I could ride my bike to the ends of the earth and back, day in and day out, and never so much as get a sore spot. Now, with 75% more cushion on the bum,   I can’t possibly fathom the idea of getting back on the bike and finishing the next 4 bars.  The five of us very slowly, carefully, tried to slide ourselves onto the seats while leaving the FYP, and once fully seated, winced and sang out a simultaneous chorus of  “OWIEOWIE OWIEEE MY BUM”….I am not a fan of the getting old thing…

9.  Never leave home without your mini purse sized first aid kit.

and finally….

10. This was the most fun any of the 5 of us have had in a very long time, despite the bruised bums, skinned knees, blistered elbows, serious hang overs,  and head long crashes into ” No Parking” signs on State Street.

Now, on to the FatChick…

I am back in the saddle, so to speak, with a very sore bum, but none the less, I am on the tread, getting those 6lbs plus more off of my fat self, and I am eating better than I have in a month.

Today’s playlist song is submitted by my sister, Amy Witherell of Boston, MA….Shaa’monnn…..

FAT

Okay, last night was a good day. NO JUNK! Whatsoever! So proud!  However, there was also no exercise…BOO….My coworker asked today how FatChick has been doing.  I informed her that I have been letting her sleep in

It’s really not all my fault, ya know.  My boss has been away for 10 days, so my work hours for that time have been 7:30 to 4 every day.  Which means I need to get out of bed at 4:30 every morning in order to get my workout in.  And that’s all good in the winter, when it’s dark at 7 and you go to bed, but not so hot in the summer when it’s still light out at 9:00 and your body is telling you it is time to drink beer on the porch. And I never ignore what my body tells me to do. Especially when there is beer involved.

So the gauntlet has been thrown. My far away, never met before but talk every day friend,...

I seriously have a problem with hot dogs.  I don’t know what it is about them, but I freaking love them.  We attend a  cook out, and I don’t get the 93%lean hamburger, nor do I even want to consider the turkey burger.   I get the hot dog.  Yes, I know what is in them;  lips, asses and scrotums of various animals, and yet I cannot help myself.  I have to have the hot dog.  With ketchup and mustard please. 

This weekend was another bad one.  Hot dogs aside, I think I ate every bad food on the planet.  Friday was hot dogs and burgers, Saturday was sausage and pepper grinders, birthday cake, chicken wings, and macaroni salad.  And Sunday? Well Sunday was the end of it all.  Bacon, eggs, sausage, “Breado” ( fried bread dough), hash browns, french toast, and Bloody Mary’s,  breakfast typically reserved for kings, all courtesy of my friends, the Aubin family, in celebration of Father’s Day.  To top it all off…Lobster and beer...

I seriously do not know what has come over me. I have eaten everything in sight that is not  wood, glass or plastic…and the plastic part is debatable, as I actually considered eating the Snicker bar wrapper Madison left on the living room table the other day.  As it was, I tried to lick off the chocolate from the inside, and then carried the wrapper around in my sweatshirt pocket so I could randomly pull it out and sniff it.

Seriously.  How sad is that?

The most I have done in the way of lift weights is a 120z. bottle of Miller Lite to my lips.  I think I could drink a frat boy under the table.  Classy, aaannndd impressive, no?  I am considering detox.  Okay, no I’m not. But it sounds good, doesn’t it?

I  have unleashed the  beast.  The FatChick that cannot be stopped.  When I look in the mirror, I can see her in my eyes.  She is there, plotting and planning the demise of SkinnyChick.  She walks by the treaadmill and throws her head...

Mission Goal: To release SkinnyChick from evil fat captors

Mission Obstacles: everything from stress to food to beer and back again

Mission Days: 91

Pounds Lost: 18

Pounds Regained: 6

Misson Log:

I don’t know where we went wrong. For several weeks, FatChick and I were getting along gloriously.  It had seemed that we reached a peaceful treaty, and were able to coexist in the same camp. And then she got lazy.

And when I say lazy, I mean almost sloth like.  She hasn’t used the treadmill in 15 days.  There are actually dust bunnies on it. And not only has she not gotten on the treadmill, she has also eaten like a goddamn pig.  Everything from chocolate bars to potato chips and donuts,beer, hot dogs,  bagels with cream cheese….CREAM CHEESE!!  She restocked the rations with Oreos and Vienna Fingers, Honey Roasted peanuts, WHITE BREAD!!!  Oh the horror.  It is as if she has forgotten everything I taught her.  And THEN...

My hormones are raging….I feel premenstrual to the point that I almost feel pregnant. Not cool one single bit.  My pants are tight.  I have miserable cramps, and even the slightest breeze across my boobs  has me to my knees in pain.  What the hell is going on??  It is not possible to be another child, which is a good thing, as you all know my position on children.  They turn into people.  Which we should really consider before conceiving.  Babies good.  People…not so much.

And THEN…..And THEN…..I went to the market.  Hungry and hormonal.  I went in for salsa for the wicked awesome and easy salsa chicken recipe that I posted a while back.  I left with salsa, cheese, 2 bags of potato chips, 3 different kinds of peanuts(which I am taste testing with a frosty cold Miller Lite as we currently speak) and the be all that ends all…..the mother load of all  PMS induced sugar craving  nervous breakdowns…..a giant sized Cadbury Fruit and...

Okay. Here’s the deal.  Dave and I are on an endless merry go round and we want to get the hell off.  Every five minutes there is a different story.  Every five minutes there is a different rescue scenario.  Every time I turn around there is good news, followed by really bad news .

The bad news is, in order to file a stay, we need an attorney who works in Superior Court.  We would prefer a free attorney, obviously, because we have no freaking money.  Tom Rumbolt does not work in Superior Court, and cannot do this for us.  Dan Hyman from the Mass Fair Housing Commission is in Boston for the day, and cannot do this for us either.  Dave and I applied for a mortgage at Hoosac Bank to get a phony commitment letter from them, hoping this will be enough to hold the auction and force a stay.  We got the letter.

We also got the loan! Holy SHIT!

However, Ocwen will not accept the amount of the loan. (which is exactly what the balance of the mortgage is, by...

I just don’t know what to do.  The attorney for the Fair Housing Authority is now working with Tom Rumbolt to get a judge to order a stay on the sale of the house.  Which is only a postponement. This has to be done before Friday.  THIS FRIDAY.  I am not sure I can handle this stress.  I feel like I am being pulled in 45 different directions at the same time. My brain is fried.  Our lender informed us via US Mail yesterday that they do not do loan modifications. Of any sort.  Under any circumstances. 

Well, THAT information would have been fucking handy to have LAST YEAR, wouldn’t ya say?? Hmm, like around the time we STARTED asking for a loan modification? Like around the time we submitted 9 freaking applications, that included every goddamn bit of information on each and every one of us in our home?  Like, maybe you could of told us this BEFORE we had all of our past 3 years of tax returns sent to you?  Or a years worth of bank statements? Pay stubs? ...

Well, yesterday’s accidental post that wasn’t even finished happened to be my biggest scoring blog ever.  It’s true…gossip truly does sell.  The whole world is talking about us, calling their friends and telling them to go on this site and read what is happening to the Tarsa’s.  I went up 6 fans yesterday on the Facebook page,  and I am guessing it is not a coincidence.   Now it’s out there in cyberworld and everyone knows our business, but what the hell.  It’s not like half of these people hadn’t already read it in the paper.  Every single day, there are 3 more foreclosures listed in the paper.  Every single day.  None of them are from local banks. No Adams Co Op,  Hoosac, Greylock…just banks and lenders from all over the country who are run by heartless greedy bastards that want nothing more than your property. Property they have never even seen, and never will.   My heart breaks for these people.  It is such a nightmare...

Okay, you have all thought in the past that I sometimes get just a wee bit too personal.  Well, I share these things with you, like my weight,  boils and pubes and poopie in my pants, because the things in my life that REALLY suck, I cannot talk about. Until today. Maybe I should not share these things, but I find that when I sit here, and write about the turmoils in my life, I am comforted by the fact that I did so. So here goes…

Dave and I are in trouble. Not like we are going to break up trouble, but we are in a crisis trouble. Six years ago, we moved into our home. We did this will all the love, support and help from my family, the Wonderful Willettes.  We mortgaged our house through a mortgage company, which is a very popular thing to do these days.  We had an easy to make payment(with an adjustable rate),  we bought a duplex, and life was good.

Roughly one year after we bought the house, we went on vacation to Florida with the kids, my parents, and my aunts. ...

Okay I suck.  I haven’t written since Thursday.  Which is also the last time I exercised. Unless you count the Relay for Life.  I walked for hours at that….

Although I have not exercised, I still lost a few pounds.  I am now 13 measly pounds away from my goal of a total 30. On Saturday, Sarah went through all her old ” fat pants”, which are all size 10 and 8.  And every single pair she gave me fits.  Even the 8’s ( which I totally rocked at work yesterday, without one incident of camel toe or muffin top). My friend Rae that works in Ecu Care told me yesterday that she can no longer recognize me, and that if I stand sideways you could almost miss me.  That had me skipping back to my office, let me just tell you…not that I am feeling really vain or snarky about myself, but rather, it is really nice to hear that I look different, since I have been busting my ass and all…..just sayin’

I am getting ready to man up and make...

I came in the back door of my office  to catch a blur of Joanne as she sprinted down the hallway towards the kitchen.

She was running away.

I dropped my purse, took off my coat, and then it hit me….

It smells like sugar in here.

I said aloud “It smells like sugar in here”

Immediately Krista and Joanne burst into uncontrollable laughter, while trying to hide their imminent fear of what I will do when I find out why the office smells like sugar.

Someone brought us dessert. Some kind, dear, sweet patient in our office brought us dessert. Again.  I want to kill this person.  And I am not kidding.

I could smell it….it was cake.  The office smelled of cake. I put Joanne under pressure.  I asked again and again “What is it? WHAT IS IT??”  And I finally forced her to tell me what it was.  After 5 minutes, she broke….

” It’s cake.  Layers and layers of chocolaty gooey cool whippy...

I have created an exercise pandemic.

My sister in law, my friends, and complete strangers are all up and exercising, because of this blog.  I am getting emails and comments from so many of you, telling me your story and claiming me to be your inspiration. Thank you for that, and keep on truckin!

I am now 74 days into this mission, and have lost 15 (yes, 15!) pounds.  I am super excited, and highly motivated, for what better motivation is there than seeing results? I am halfway to my goal.

Davey has been getting up at 5:30 in the morning with me, and taking a 3 mile walk around the neighborhood. (He has to go around the neighborhood because his selfish, non sharing wife will not let his ass on the treadmill between the hours of 5:30 and 7am. Hey, what can I say.  This is my time bucko, get your own treadmill)  The walk has been going on for roughly 3 1/2 weeks. I am super proud of him and his determination.  He also claims me to be his inspiration.  I don’t...

I have a secret to tell you.  It is a huge one.  Please do not ever repeat this to anyone, ever. Swear.  Cross your heart and hope to die.

My mother has another man in her life.

It started back when I was in middle school. I would come home from school and find her in the living room dancing with him.  She would be wearing my discarded spandex dance attire, and she would meet him every day.

The first time I walked in on this, I was speechless.  I did not know what to say. This was completely out of character of my mother, and I was shocked.

As the weeks went on, my sister and brother and I would sneak into the living room to spy on her.  We just couldn’t believe this to be true.  She would throw things at us, yell at us, and tell us to go away and leave her alone. But we couldn’t leave. We were drawn back to the living room, like we had been magnetized. And we would laugh.

And laugh and laugh some more.  We were absolutely horrible...

Okay, yesterday Sarah sent me an encouraging email.  She does this often, she is like my behind the scenes personal cheerleader.  She sends me encouragement via poems, pictures, text messages, or just random emails. This is one of the reasons everyone loves Sarah.  Cause she is always there for ya, giving her support, and sometimes you don’t even realize it, like a good, comfy bra.

Well, yesterday she sent me a little poem-ish blurb from “The Secret”.  I am not sure of any of you have ever heard of  “The Secret”.  Dave’s family has the video, and it was passed around from family to family to watch and learn from.  I skipped all of the home viewings of “The Secret”.  Wanna know why? Cause I think “The Secret” is horseshit, that’s why.

The little poem-y thing reads like this:

“If you feel bad about your body, that is a powerful feeling, and you will continue to attract feeling bad about...

So I did my Yoga Booty Ballet last night.  The dogs joined in with me. That always makes a fun time.

As  I lay on the floor to do ab work,  my overweight, over fed and under walked yellow lab Daisy lays right next to me, on her back, spread eagle.  I believe this is her feeble attempt at crunches.   It is quite the sight.  While I am on the floor, of course, Copper has to stand over me, face to upside down face, his wet, drool covered ears in my eyes, as if he is coaching me, telling me that I can do one more crunch.  He will not move away.  He will not fetch a ball.  He wants nothing more than to stand over me, staring down into my face the entire time I am on the floor,  kind of resembling a vulture.   If  I stop, he puts his paw on my forehead and won’t let me up.  He is one mean, drooly, vulture  coach.

When I stand up to start the ballet portion, both dogs like to wind their way around my legs, or through my legs, or in front of my legs,  in...

There is nothing better than a full belly and a good dump, that’s what I always say…..

Well, I used to always say that, until I started eating healthy foods and exercising…

Now it seems that my belly is never full, but I constantly have to poop.  Like every hour.  Every day.  All the time. I have to jump off the treadmill sometimes because I gotta go.  Gotta go right now…This makes the 3 mile loop through Clarksburg a very interesting walk. I can’t even leave the house without some Kleenex. You would think that I would loose more weight, what with all this pooping.  I don’t think anything stays in long enough to stick.

Every time I step, I poop.  I feel like my grandmother, God rest her soul.  Every time she stepped, she pooped.  In the market.  At a wedding.  Getting in the car.  At my cousin’s graduation. Even when you would be walking behind her, up the stairs, she would poop.  Right in your face.  And she...

I have been bad.  Very very bad.

The last day I have recorded any sort of physical activity was Thursday.  THURSDAY! Unless you count sleep. Which I wish I could. Thursday night was the beginning of the end of SkinnyChick.

Thursday, I dined (drank) at Desperado’s with the family. I wish I could say that I ordered off the low fat menu.  I would totally tell you that I did.  However, the low fat menu is non existent at Desperado’s.  But I only had two (three) margaritas.

On Friday, my sister came to town.  I also woke up  feeling less than peppy from the two (three) margaritas I drank on Thursday night.  So after work on Friday, I took a wee nap.  For a few hours.  Okay, I slept from 2 to 4:30.  So sue me.  When I awoke, I realized I was late to meet my sister and do some shopping.  So off I went, to Walmart and Pittsfield.  Without eating dinner. Bad bad bad mistake.

So I hit the food court.  Hard. With both hands…

On...

It was brought to my attention recently by two of my coworkers, that exercising has evidently made me a nicer person.  (Bridget whole heartedly disagrees)  But Joanne and Krista both have told me,  more than once, that I have become nice. I don’t know if it is the exercise, the vitamin D, the weight loss, or maybe a combination of all of those things, but I think they are right.  I am nicer to patients.  I am nicer to my coworkers. ( I am still not very nice to Bob, but that’s something I am afraid will never change)  I am a just a little too peppy to be me.

Scary.

I am going to have to remedy this.  I am thinking I may have to squeeze some lotion into their top desk drawers or maybe thumb tack their chairs. I have been called plenty of things, but nice has never been one of them. Today I am pretty hung over, what from all the Desperado’s margaritas that went down yesterday. So it should be pretty darn easy to be mean.  Easy peasy….

A...

Let me start out by saying I am sorry for making some of you cry yesterday. My bad..

I had a difficult morning with my leg, and almost quit my walk.  Almost. But I didn’t.  I just kept seeing Nicki’s face in my head, and I pushed through it. Like I said, if she can do it, I can do it too.

Wednesday Weigh Day was a bust. No weight loss.  No gain, but no loss.  Incredibly disappointing, but not unexpected, seeing that I spent Tuesday on my duff the entire day, feeling premenstrually fat and eating Lay’s potato chips with Hershey Kisses on top, a la cheese and crackers style.

Softball season has come up on me rather quickly, and I admit to finding myself ill prepared. Last summer I was locked and loaded with pre cooked meals or leftovers, even packed sandwiches to get the family fed before an early evening game.  Last night I was caught unawares, with not a leftover to speak of, nothing thawed or prepared, without a scrap of lunchmeat in the house. ...

Let me tell you a story about my best friend.

About 10 years ago, after a series of strange neurologic events, my best friend was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis.  She was given a very uncertain future, with a variety of possible scenarios, and a list of do’s and don’ts.  Will she lose the function in her legs? No one can say for sure. Will she ever regain the feeling in her feet and hands? Maybe, but maybe not.  Can she have children? Yes, but postpartum may cause a significant relapse in her symptoms.

This diagnosis put her into a state of denial.  She would call me, asking for my opinion, advice, etc, and being that I have worked for a neurologist for 12 years, I could only concur with what she was already told.  That there is no guarantees with this disease, that she may stay the same for years, or have difficulty walking when she is 30.

She refused to believe that any of these events would be possible for her.  And she started to walk. ...

Please tell me that I am not alone here.  There has to be someone out there who does this. It can’t just be me.  And if it is, then I guess I really am completely insane. Or at least suffering from split personality disorder.

I have entire conversations with myself in my head.

It is like there is another person up in my brain, carrying on delightful conversations with just me.  That’s it.  Just me.  No one else can hear them. It’s really pretty awesome. My imaginary brain friend.

I have these conversations about 3 million times a day.  I talk to myself when I exercise, cook, work, drive, or really, doing  just about anything.  My brain friend tells me if I look good or not.  She tells me that I made a delicious cup of coffee.  She reminds me to vacuum behind the dog crate because it stinks like bloodhound in my house.She even talks to me while I am talking to other people!  It’s kinda sad that I would rather listen to her than to...

There are certain things in my house that I do not like people touching.  Like… don’t touch my pottery. Don’t touch my jewelry. Never ever touch my cell phone.  Don’t touch my Chi hair straightener.  And definitely do not ever touch my treadmill.

The last time someone played around on my treadmill,  I woke up in the morning to use it, and the incline was broken.  Totally broken.  Dave spent 2 days trying to fix it, and finally got the tread working without the incline motor.  So my treadmill is now just flat. No incline.  Roughly two weeks after that happened,  the magnetic key went missing.  No one saw it.  No one used it.  Not me. I don’t know. I wasn’t even here, is what the kids told me.  After 15 hours of searching my house, I found it in my jewelry box.  I don’t remember putting it there, and because I don’t remember, I am standing by my case that I did indeed,  not put it there. But everyone else thinks that...

I haven’t always been a FatChick.  I used to be a SkinnyChick, and at the very worst, a normal sized chick with some pudge.  When I look back at pictures after I had each of the kids, I looked great.  Well, to be honest, I looked tired with constant ponytail hair, but I was thin.  So I really can’t blame the weight gain on the kids.  Throughout my 20’s, as a young mother and wife, I was too damn busy to gain weight.  I never ate a hot meal, I didn’t sit down until I crawled my dead tired ass into bed, and I had the best arm muscles ever from lifting toddlers all day long.  So what happened?

The kids grew up, that’s what happened.

My sister tells me that because I lived my life a little backwards (kids and marriage at 21 instead of college and bars), I am now gaining my Freshman Fifteen.  Or thirty, to be exact.  I no longer get up at dawn to feed children, do laundry, iron clothes, and rush out the door with spit up on my left shoulder,...

Okay, I probably should have rethought the entire wardrobe that I wore to work yesterday.  I think I am getting a little too excited, too quickly, and maybe putting my cart in front of my horse.

When I went through the clothes in the attic, I found 3 gorgeous halter tops, 2 of which I had never even worn.  These were purchased back in 2005, when SkinnyChick was reigning the kingdom.  I couldn’t believe that I had only worn one of them, and, in my opinion, the one I wore was the least pretty of the bunch.  I brought them downstairs, added them to the collection of SkinnyChick clothes that I dumped all over the bedroom, and mentally paired them with pants and little sweaters.

Then I went shopping, and bought another halter top.  The new one I wanted to wear asap, and paired this with a cute cropped sweater thingy, ( also new purchase) and a pair of khaki size 10 pants, and wore this adorable outfit  to work.  For 8 1/2 hours.

After roughly 2 hours at work,...

Guess what???!!!! I bought new clothes! SNOOPY DANCE!!

Yes, I did.  I bought new clothes.  I went shopping with Bridget and Auntie Visa and we had ourselves a party right in the store! And I HATE shopping! Especially with Bridget! (Or my sister and daughter, cause they are “try things on” people.  I loathe try things on people.  With all my soul)

Oh my, things are soo much prettier when you can actually FIT into them! I bought the most adorable little halter top…YUP! A halter top!  Imagine that!  And the cool thing is, my boobs are small enough now that I don’t look like Plus Size Barbie when I wear it. BONUS!

Bridget and I conducted an experiment yesterday.  Now, we all know how good an ice cold frosty beer tastes on any normal day, right? Well, we wanted to see if you take that same ice cold frosty beer, and combine it with a night of extravagant shopping for no good reason, would this beer taste better?? What do you think??

Well...

Mission Goals: Kill FatChick…forever

Mission Obstacles: The freezing cold weather, for one. And FatChick’s dire need for chocolate.

Cigarettes Smoked: I’d rather not discuss it

Calories Consumed:  At least 100, every couple hours. 

Pounds Lost: THIRTEEN!!!!!

Misson Log:

The battle ensues, but FatChick is waving the white flag.  She is surrendering.  She has put up a tremendous effort to stay alive thus far, but I am happy to report that she has been fatally wounded and she be will shown no mercy.

I have slain 13lbs off of FatChick’s frame.  13 blubbery, jiggly, fatty pounds.  Good riddance.  Two entire pants sizes.  I am thinking about buying FatChick some thongs ** giggle**….Well, perhaps I will hold off until her Joanne is entirely cleared up, which, incidentally, is starting to bother her again.  Stupid Joanne.

The recent cold weather has put a damper on our evening walks outdoors, but...

I was at Sarah’s over the weekend, when I overheard Davey telling all our  friends how funny I am on the treadmill.  Now, those of you that know me, know that I am fun all the dang time.  I make boring seem fantastic.  I make work feel like a game.  I make naps look like a party for cripes sake.  So of COURSE, I will find a way to make exercise fun….that’s a freakin no brainer.

Dave was telling our  friends how he walked into the house while I was on the treadmill, and heard the most outrageous, explicit, down right dirty language spewing from my sweaty, out of breath mouth.  And he stood in the kitchen, trying to figure out what the hell I was saying.  Or in this case…singing….

It was the lyrics to “Get Low” by Lil John…which are half obscenities, half gibberish, and ALL fun to sing. (Google them) He walked in while I was singing at the top of my lungs, and I quote  ” to the sweat drop down my...

***WARNING: CONTENT NOT SUITABLE FOR MY PARENTS, CHILDREN, OR ANYONE ELSE WHO THINKS THAT MY TMI HAS PREVIOUSLY REACHED ITS MAXIMUM SHOCK POTENTIAL***

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED- READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

My sister Amy called me last week and recommended I read an article on MSNBC titled “10 Secrets of the  Effortlessly Skinny”.  First off, I find the title of this article to be absolutely ludicrous. Effortlessly Skinny??? Get the frig outta here.  There is no such thing whatsoever.  And upon reading this article, I found that there is not one single ” secret” that does not require effort, whether it be physical or mental. See?   It is a very intriguing concept, this effortlessly skinny.  I, for one, would LOVE to meet one of these people, and I doubt I ever will, as they are as mythical as a unicorn.

As I have mentioned previously, my sister has not gained...

I had the most amazing workout yesterday.  I did my three miles on the tread, and lifted for another 20 minutes after that.  I immediately went outside to sit for a minute, and noticed how heinous my backyard looked.  Dave had raked the side and front yards, but hadn’t gotten around to the front. So stupid me, I go grab the rake.  Four hours later, I finished.  Today, I can barely move.  I will never ever say to Dave again ” You just did yard work” when arguing about who does all the work around here. He can totally have the yard work, and I will clean toilets and mop floors with great pleasure from this point on.

Note to self: when recovered from concussion and black eyes, go to Wal-Mart and buy smaller, properly fitting sports bras.

On a happier note, I finally retrieved all of my old clothes from the bee attic, without incident.  I was packin’ Raid, and thankfully did not need to use it.  I found a zillion things to wear, and am now fitting...

I want to know. What is the difference between Queen Size and Plus Size??  Are they the same, with different names? Is a Queen bigger than a Plus?  Plus bigger than a Queen? Is there a Queen Plus?  And what is Plus?? Plus what? And Queen??? Are Queens large by nature??  And what are you if you do not fit into a Plus, or a Queen, but yet extra large is too small?  I do not understand. This completely blows my mind.

For Halloween this year, I had an emotional breakdown while shopping for costumes.  Halloween costumes are not meant for FatChicks.  I could not fit even one breast into the  “extra-large” size, never mind the rest of my body.  The Plus size costumes were too large on top, and I think that the manufacturers of these costumes feel that a “Plus size” person is overweight and puffly,  with giant breasts and exceptionally long shoulder-to- chest areas. The Queen size costumes virtually hung off of my not very small frame, and are...

There are a few things I did not consider before beginning to write these stories.  It didn’t ever occur to me that so many people would be reading them, first off.  There are people I do not even know that are reading these stories.  People that I do not even know that now know all these little details in my life.   And my weight.  And that I grow pubic hair at an exceedingly rapid rate. And that my giant fat girl underpants gave me a boil on my bum.

And then there is the fact that there is 100 people that I do know  that now  know these things about me as well. **shudder**

I also did not take into consideration the fact that people now look at me.  And I mean look at me.  I cannot tell you how many people have looked at my gut instead of my face while speaking to me  in the last 2 weeks. Now, I am used to men looking at my girls instead of my face when talking to me.  They are borderline giant girls, and I have often snapped...

Mission Goal: Release SkinnyChick from evil fat captors

Mission Obstacles: Several late nights, children, baked goods, and the NFL Draft

Calories Consumed: at least 100 every 2 hours

Pounds Lost: 11.6

Mission Log:

I am pleased to report that I am only 18.4 pounds away from freedom. I expect my first public appearance somewhere in the late June, early July range, if the mission goes as planned.

FatChick had a very tough week.  Once again, kind patients in her office have brought several baked goods in for her and the other girls.  There have been cookie drop offs, miniature chocolate packages, and the be all that ends all…a giant box of cannoli from this little italian bakery in Chicopee.

Yes, there is a large box of cannoli in the refrigerator at work as we speak. Lovely, creamy, crispy cannoli.  I had to tie FatChick to her chair in order to keep her from eating them. She just kept going back to that refrigerator, and opening...

I have to type from the desk top,with the broken keyboard tray.  I  have been unable to use my laptop since yesterday because my WiFi is flaccid and in desperate need of an electronic  Viagra.  Beans…

Last night was a long one. Due to the impending rain and thunderstorms  that never occurred, I opted for 2 miles on the treadmill over the 3 mile walk with Bridget.  I really have to give props to Bridget here.  When we took our first walk, she did sorta kinda whine a bit. About everything, from the hills to the distance to the speed and even that her clothes did not match exactly.   But hey, that’s Bridget, and I love her.   She has even perfected whining with only her eyes, making not a sound, just like my dogs.   I wish she could teach my children this trick.  But on our last walk, she was awesome.  She keeps a good pace, and good conversation, and the only time she whined was when we went up Barth Street, and I was most definitely whining too. That hill...

Okay, so today is Wednesday Weigh Day… I am repeating in my head, over and over, that muscle weighs more than fat.  Say it with me now…muscle weighs more than fat…I almost have myself convinced.

I woke up this morning, drank my coffee, and opened my email. I have been getting a ton of spam, since I had to be a cool guy and put my email on a public website.  I am bombarded immediately with ” Home Warranty For Less”, ” Go Back To School Now” and ” Hot Singles In Your Area”…delete, delete, delete….and then I see it.  The sender’s name rings a bell somewhere in the back of my head. Subject line: Operation: Kill FatChick.

It’s from Jennifer Huberdeau. Yes, OUR Jennifer Huberdeau, senior reporter for the North Adams Transcript.  She wants to interview FatChick…yes,  THIS FATCHICK, for the Transcript. Can you freaking BELIEVE THAT???

HOLY CHEESE AND CRACKERS BATMAN!!!!!

I...

I cannot tell you enough how great I feel.

Seriously, I feel great. Like Sing and Snore Ernie, who says it over and over and over again, every time you take off his sleep mask.  ” I feel grreeeaat!!”  Like Tony the Tiger great! Okay, you get the picture..

I have not had the need to eat a single ibuprofen in 2 weeks.  Not even one.  I have had no headaches, neck aches, or any true aches at all.  This exercise thing is pretty darn cool. Apparently you not only look better, but you feel better….you feel healthy! What a concept!

I  am gonna tell you the  story about what initially fired me to lose some weight.  Last summer, I went to the doctor.  Yuck.  I hate doctors.  My sister-in-law, Natalie, worked for my doctor, and was also the person who puts you on the scale.  How utterly mortifying, I know….

I himmed.  I hawwed. I basically flat out refused to get on.  She stood there, laughing, waiting for me to...

I have found a fun new hobby.  I have spent hoards of time doing this.  It has become somewhat of an obsession.

I spend great lengths of time studying myself naked in front of a mirror.  I mean like 30 minutes.  Naked.  In front of the mirror.  I have even stolen Madison’s full length mirror and positioned it in my bedroom to reflect against my own mirror. Similar to a Macy’s dressing room.  And I stand there.  Naked.  For like, ever.

There are a few things I have discovered about my naked self. First would be, that I am most definitely not pretty naked.  At all.  And during these naked studies, I find my mind wandering back, back, back to the age of 18, and trying to remember if my naked self was pretty then.  I can somewhat remember the taught skin and perky everythings, but it is a very vague picture. And I can remember not being pleased, even then, with my naked self.  What a fool my 18 year old naked person was.  If she only knew what she...

It has officially been 8 days since I have had a beer.  Eight whole days.  And I am ok…I do miss my ice-cold, frosty Miller Light, but I don’t believe that I will die without one.  Pheewww…I was kinda nervous that I would.

I am still pulling in two walks a day.  My morning 2 miles on the tread, and 3 miles at night.  On Friday, Amy and I walked downtown to do some errands she had.  For her, this is an every day occurence, for in Boston, you walk EVERYWHERE. For me, this was a new experience.  Walking to do errands?? What a concept….

On the way back up route 2, I had to pee like a racehorse.  I mean, every step I took, I didn’t think I was gonna make it one more.  It even hurt! Amy just kept saying, ” five more minutes Vick, five more minutes, you can hold it”…But really, I couldn’t.  And given the current state of my bladder, i.e, its sudden lack of control, I was a nervous wreck that I would stumble, or sneeze,...

With the warm weather here, I have started walking the 3 mile loop from my house, through Clarksburg, and back into good ole NA. This is an amazing walk, and I have enjoyed the fresh air and good company.  I have also added the walks during my breaks with Krista every day, and I have my 2 miles alone on the tread each morning, with just me, Rob Zombie, and my dogs. It’s really a toss-up to which one I like more, because lets face it, Rob Zombie rocks.

Last evening’s walk was with my sister, Bridget, Madison, and Amy’s little mop dog, Bailey. I used to walk Bailey every day when Amy lived in town, and I forgot how much fun he is to walk with.  Fun like seeing the dentist. 

Bailey has this thing about pooping every 4 tenths of a mile, for 4 minutes, over the length of 4 lawns.  Just when you get your heart rate up and pumping, ya gotta stop for Bailey. Again.  And again…and then again….

Last night, some crazy lady came running...

Mission Goal: Free SkinnyChick

Obstacles: Currently, none

Days in: 29 consecutive

Pounds lost: TEN!!!! (10.3 total)

Mission Log:

Upon entering the shower at 0600 hours, I had a visual on my toes.  Yes, my toes.  I could see my toes when I looked down. FatChick and I were incredibly pleased, and Snoopy danced in the shower.  NOT recommended in such tight quarters, and on another level,  wet, naked  FatChick Snoopy dancing is not in the least attractive.

Wednesday’s weigh in was incredibly successful.  10.3 lbs off the scale.  10.3lbs off the total body weight.  FatChick did cartwheels through her office, laughing and crying in delight.  I cried with her.  I am very proud, and am now just 20lbs away from my freedom.

FatChick is still pulling double sessions of exercise.  This is actually becoming something she is looking forward to.  She is still very displeased with her meal options, but the exercise is no longer a problem. ...

I am home alone and should be cleaning, but find myself drawn back to this damn page over and over again.  I think I may have a problem.

Tuesday morning’s run on the treadmill ended quite abruptly at 1.36miles.   I was off in Never Land, daydreaming about a future flat stomach, when I apparently misstepped on the treadmill.  My foot somehow ended up on the side rail, which, by the way, is stationary, and I was suspended, for a split second, between left foot stopped and right foot running, or, more like running out of room on the tread.  This resulted in a very un-gymnastics like backward half flip off of the tread, landing ass first on the front of the computer desk. Sadly, the keyboard tray is damaged beyond repair and I am currently typing from my lap.  I, however, am ok.  But I think I caught  the dogs laughing at me.

Today is the BIG weigh in day.  I am having heart palpitations just thinking about it.  I am at the end of my PMS cycle, meaning the flood...

Well, attempt number one to quit smoking was an epic failure.  I am a weak, sad, and controlled individual. My cousin gave me sound advice from Einstein yesterday, ” I did not fail, I just found 1000 ways that don’t work”. Let’s see how today goes, shall we?

I had the opportunity to look at some pictures of myself yesterday. These were taken on Sunday, just 2 days ago.  I am disappointed to report that there is absolutely NO change in myself since the last round of pictures one month ago. I am still the chubby girl in the middle of a bunch of skinny chicks. One month  later.  ** Insert enormous sigh**

Yes, it has been one month.  One long, stupid month. And I still have multiple chins. My pants fit better, my bra is too big, but I still don’t seem to look any better.  What a load of crap.

I have 428 fans on the FatChick facebook page, but only about 156 daily readers. What the hell is up with that?? Thank you, all 156 of you, for...

Well, over all this wasn’t such a bad weekend.  I ate well, exercised like a sonofagun, and only drank like 24 beers.  ( just kidding)

Dave went to a pancake breakfast yesterday morning with Madison.  They invited me to go.  Let me just make something perfectly clear to you all….I DO NOT WANT TO GO ANYWHERE TO EAT…OKAY??  Don’t ask me to lunch, don’t invite me to dinner, and no I most certainly do NOT want to attend an all you can eat pancake breakfast.  Thanks anyway. I am not trying to be rude, but seriously, STOP.  Dupa judas…..sheesh

There is just one thing I refuse to give up on this mission, and that is my coffee.  I love my coffee, and I love it with half and half.  Not fat free half and half, not milk, not Creamora, but good ole, fatty half and half.  That’s the way its gonna be, damn it.

I am , however, quitting smoking today.  Yes, today.  I have not shared this with anyone other than my quit buddies,...

Saturday I was back on the wagon. Had an excellent walk on the treadmill, 2 miles in 30 minutes exactly, without any sprints.  Was not in a sprinting kind of mood, and I am glad for it.  This was my best time ever, I have been trying to get to a 15 minute walking mile  for some time now.  Go FatChick!

Dropped a hand weight on my foot.  Just a 3 pounder, but it still hurt like hell.  Hoards of bad words came out of my mouth.  Fortunately, I could not hear them over the volume of my iPod, so they don’t count.

If any of you are looking for an excellent exercise DVD, might I suggest ordering a copy of Yoga Booty Ballet.  I cannot say enough about it.  Try looking for this on eBay, as I paid a small fortune for mine from BeachBody.com.  Yes, the instructors are total skinny zipper bitches, and they are completely cracked out, but the workout is fantastic. Ballet, yoga, cardio/strength combination, and a fantastic abs section.  I just love the abs section. ...

There is a rumor going around town that FatChick was seen yesterday at Jack’s Hot Dog Stand.  I am here to tell you that you should not believe everything that you hear.  But guess whaaatt??

IT IS ABSOLUTELY TRUE!

On Friday I did NOTHING…NOTHING….so how do ya like me now?? I did NOT exercise.  Not even once. I didn’t even run up the stairs.(Okay, I did do a few sets of standing leg lifts….but whatevs)    I did NOT eat healthy. I ate JACKS! And chocolate milk! And a handful of my niece’s HOTFRIES!  And I had a SLUSH PUPPIE!! And it was BLUE And so is my tongue!!  And I LOVED IT!  Speaking of which, does anyone have any Tums?

AND I HAD  TWO BEERS!!  And a SNACK!! I ate peanut butter today…I haven’t had peanut butter in a month! Damn I missed that peanut butter. I was a total fat pig  sluggy sloth yesterday.

And GUESS WHAT?  I DON”T CARE!  I’M NOT SORRY!!  Neener neener and all that...

Do you know what really gets me running?? Bees.  Yup, bees.  If  a bee flies near me, and I mean even REMOTELY near me,   I will run like I am being chased by a murderer. Not a big fan of the bee.  I am actually terrified of them.  While walking through the parking lot at work yesterday, I was seen by 10 strangers running in circles and yelling “Bee! Bee! OHMYGAWD BEEEE!!” while waving my hands in the air.  The strangers found this incredibly comical, and as I slunk away, embarrassed, I realized my heart rate was up and I was sweating.  BONUS!! 45 seconds of cardio right there baby!

Last night I went out to celebrate two of my wonderful friends’ birthdays.  “Let’s go to Freight Yard Pub!” they say….Freakin goodie. I ate a light dinner at home, consisting of a crab meat salad with almost zero fat free mayonnaise( which is total garbage..blech)  in a whole wheat pita pocket.  It was good, and not a horrible way to start the night. ...

I am depressed.  I have been busting my dupa for almost a month, with quite minimal movement of the scale. Yes things fit better.  Yes I have gone down a bit in my  cup size.  But do I REALLY need to go down a cup size?? What was wrong with the cup size I had?? Stupid boobs..

I am still eating prunes.  Let me explain why.  I am not attempting to “cleanse” anything, those that know me also know that I have a very healthy and active colon.  However, I have started taking a multi vitamin, and an additional vitamin D supplement, which tend to slow down  traffic on the fecal freeway. In addition to these, ibuprofen has become part of my food pyramid, due to the excessive pain I have been in because of T and Gilly Ann.  Those ladies really know how to work a body. So instead of adding a pill or a powder to my already toxined body, I have been...