True Story Hot Dog Review

I grew up more or less believing every commercial on TV. I wasn't a savvy seven year old. So when I was told Ball Park Franks' were the best because "they plump when you cooked them" I was convinced it was true.

When my parents would BBQ, I would ask for Ball Park hot dogs. I thought they were tasty and I was satisfied. They were pretty cheap and so my parents (for who a hot dog is a foreign food) were also happy.

It wasn't until I was married, and once had a craving for a hot dog that I learned anything about what a good hot dog tasted like. I picked up my trusty brand. When I got home my husband was pretty surprised. He refused to eat any but promised me that very weekend I would know what a "good" hot dog tasted like. He brought home Nathan's. He was right. Those were in fact the best hot dogs, I had ever had. 

Since then, I've turned into a bit of a snob. To be fair hot dogs are one of my least favorite things to eat. I have to be really in the mood or at a ball game. What is it about a ball game that makes a hot dog so good?  

Now if some one's cooking a Ball Park Frank I wont eat it. I wont let Animal eat it either. Of course he did try one at someones BBQ, and LOVES them. So I was super excited to find this at Costco a few weeks ago.

Our new favorite!

They are free of all the yucky preservatives, all beef, organic and gluten free. I was sure they would be gross, but what would Animal know? They'd be hot dogs and he would get used to the flavor and like it. 

Well boy was I wrong, these healthier hot dogs are DELICIOUS! We all loved them, including the hubby. They are not so cheap, 11.99 for 15 hot dogs(at Costco), but man are they worth it. With Fourth of July around the corner it's a good time to try them yourselves.

Health Scares

Pre Biopsy View

I've had a few health scares. 

Not many. I've always lucked out. Even as a kid. I never got too sick. Much to my mother's delight, I was (am) the biggest baby so it was especially horrid for my mommy when I did fall ill.

I don't get the flu shot and very, very rarely get the flu. I work with children and rarely get so much as a cold. It happens, and when it does I swear I'm dying. Still I rarely have to miss work, or even a run.

Even with my strong immune system, I've always had this suspicious feeling that when my time comes it will be to something terrible. Maybe because I feel guilty when someone awesome gets gravely ill. When I see a story about someone battling cancer, aids, leukemia, diabetes or anything of the like, I wonder, "Why not me?". 

Really, what makes me so lucky? There's no reason. Reality is these ailments can strike anyone, and they do. 

I myself have had 2 previous scares. One involving an ultrasound. The second involving a biopsy, then a decision about a simple office visit or a more aggressive outpatient surgery. I chose the more aggressive treatment. Now I face my second biopsy (unrelated to first), another bullet I'm hoping to dodge.

Why am I so worried? Is it a premonition? Is it that real illness has been like the scariest of Bogey men to me? Or is it that I'm a parent now? 

I'm unlikely to figure it out tonight. If I figure it out before I get a call, I'll let you know.

The Difference between a Butt and an Ass

The hubby has been on my case to open an Instagram for weeks now. I think because he's secretly jealous of my Twitter following (compared to his. Not because I'm a juggernaut or anything) and wants to have more followers than me (somewhere) again. After dragging my feet on the whole thing because I'm on social media overload as it is I finally opened one a few weeks ago.

What have I found?

Well besides a few IRL friends, I have found: cats, dogs, food, fashion, aaaannnddd fit girls. Have I mentioned how badly I want to be a fit girl again ? I'm inspired and re-energized! I got really lazy after the 100 mile challenge. I couldn't get my ass out of bed in the morning. My warm comfy bed. It is still my dream to be an athletic woman someday. As I've mentioned before, I will never be a skinny girl, but a toned, sexy, fit girl? Hell yes I can! Hard work. That's all it takes.

These ladies post a ton of pictures. Not just of their toned bodies. They show you their workouts. Correct form. What they're eating and post encouraging words. I am so inspired. I'm ready to have a new mentality.

The last few months have been hard on me. I've been up and down the same 3 lbs all summer. 138-141. On the one hand I kind of don't care. I'm wearing a lot of pre baby clothes. I look in the mirror and I like what I see. A "normal" woman. The hubby? He's a happy guy. That makes me BTW, a super happy wife. So there doesn't seem to be a lot of motivation for me to step away from the cocktails.

Except when I take my clothes off. My gut (can't call them abs without laughing), legs and under arms are less than okay. I have been having this inner dialogue. A dialogue that says: I'm 35, and a mom. This is as good as it gets. It's cool. Get over your self.

Instagram and the fabulously fit women on it are changing my mind. Not totally. Maybe it's time to give up on the idea of weighing a buck twenty five. However maybe, just maybe I can tone up and be truly fit at this weight. I have shifted my focus. Of course I still plan to run. I love running and hope to be at it until I'm OLD OLD OLD. Maybe it's time to focus on getting strong. Not maybe. It is time. And I'm ready.

I found a challenge. This girl is fucking amazing. You can follow her @cctchickentuna. I'm on day 17 of this challenge and I'm loving it. The hubby has started buying me panties again. I feel great.

The wheels in my mind are turning, my imagination is racing. I feel like a jack in the box ready to pop from the anticipation of just doing it and the self satisfaction I'll get as a reward at the end. Self satisfaction and a nice ass, that's really it's own reward isn't it?

Here's the Challenge:

I'm not getting any younger, and you know what?

It's not fun, getting older. It sucks that we put on weight, when our calories in, to our calories out have not changed. We eat the same number of really yummy dinners. Drink the same number of wine glasses with dinner and the same number beers on Football Sunday. But our jeans get tighter. Even though we run the same number of miles, maybe more.

There are little lines on my face I don't remember ever seeing before. More than a grey hair. My skin is loosing it's youthful glow. Or so it sometimes feels. You know when it doesn't feel that way? When you set a physical challenge and then you work hard to meet it.

You wanna know the best part? Everyday that you get up a little earlier, or find that time in your busy day to say; "Right now, in this moment, it's about me. It's about me and this amazing thing called life. Right now I'm respecting me, my body and my soul's need for my mind and body to work together". You'll feel at peace with yourself, because you'll know it's true.

Digging deep in my in my well, for the desire to be my best self, is hard. It hurts and it doesn't come easy. Every time I do it any way. Every. Time. I feel good. I never finish a work out and think, well that was a big waste of time. Never.

When it's over I have an incredible sense of accomplishment, and that's good for one's health. As is the strengthening of ones body. It strengthens your mind too. So let's do it! Who's in?

Week 2, 100 mile challenge

I'm doing this thing.

So this is it, week two. Only two to go...

Are you wondering how it went? Well, this week was easier in some ways.

I'm getting used to hearing my alarm ring. Every. Fucking. Morning. For one thing.

It's fun to see the miles add up and to know I'm getting closer and closer to my goal.
I feel healthy and strong. Even a little sexy.

It's also harder in other ways.

Like I get up at 5 am everyday, but my day doesn't slow down in anyway. Even though I have more energy to handle certain things, I also don't have enough time for others.

Like writing.

I used to write at night while hanging out with the hubby. But lately I start getting drowsy at 7:30-8 o clock. No surprise to anyone that knows me, including of course my husband. That means that I have to choose.

Spend time and effort in my marriage or on my hobby. I know a marriage takes work. I love ours. So I choose to put my energy (what little I may have) there.

I also have less time to get myself, or the multitude of stuff that I usually do for me and my family, done in the morning.

Like eating my breakfast vs. wolfing it down.

Putting on make up vs some erase paste under my eyes and maybe some chapstick on my lips.

Packing us all lunches vs. packing them for my boys and I relying on the Think Thin bars I have stached in my classroom cabinet at work.

Or writing at 5 am, in blessed silence. Just me, my thoughts and my laptop

It's only for this one month. So is it worth it?

Today. This morning. It is.

This is what week two looked like.

Changing Up The Menu

For the second maybe third time ever, Animal had a day that he didn't have a single bowel movement. He usually has 1-3. I know, I know. Who cares? Why do parents talk about their children's bowel movements? Why, am I? Honestly I don't know why, but that's not going to stop me from writing this post.

 I think digestive health is very important. I want him to be regular. I don't want him to be constipated. I don't want his "normal" to be every few days. I think that's an unhealthy, uncomfortable, and shitty state of being (pun intended). 

The hubby sent me a text suggesting that we cut his meat intake, and up his water and fiber intake.

To which I responded cutting meat, no problem. Let's agree once a day tops if any. Up water, no problem, we'll offer him his sippy cup more often and I'll ask my mom to do the same. Up fiber? We don't need to do that I said, I'm sure that he's fine there. I start to think about his daily menu. On average he gets 14 grams, not too shabby if I do say so myself, but some days he doesn't eat all the food I prepare and offer. 

Occasionally we order pizza which he loves, or go out to breakfast and he refuses everything except the bacon. Sometimes I make him a quesadilla or an egg, cheese and bacon burrito (both of which he loves, but that offer no fiber). On those days his fiber intake can be as low as 10 grams. I start to wonder if the hubby could be right. He has this super annoying habit of being right.

I jumped on Google to see what the Recommended Daily Intake of fiber is for a toddler. If you've never looked it up you might not know. It's 19 grams! Nineteen. Fuck, I'm a failure. I text the hubby and promise him I'll change up the menu.

I start thinking about what a terrible mom I am. I'm at work 9 hrs a day and I can't even prepare him nutritious meals. I suck. I start to brainstorm and Googling fiber rich foods. He eats all of them except brown rice. It's summer so he's having berries almost daily (a fiber rich food). He loves broccoli, carrots, green beans, zucchini, sweet potatoes, and peas. He doesn't love brussels sprouts, but he ate some for dinner Sunday night (along with a banana and 3 nutter butter bites). I started calming down. I mean really how many toddlers eat brussels sprouts? A few, and mine is one of them. 

I go to Trader Joe's on my lunch break. As I walk around, I realize just how healthy my son eats (mostly) the real problem I realize is two fold. 

First I was ignorant about what the actual RI was. Second, I've gotten a little (okay, moderately) laxed about what I feed my son. I'm lazy when it comes to cooking (and cleaning up a kitchen) so doing so isn't on the top of my to do list. Making sure my son is as healthy as he can be however, is. So, as I looked around I made a decision. To start paying attention, planning and changing up the menu again. For him, and for us.

I bought a bad of brown rice, the one with the highest fiber count. I decided I would cook like Spanish rice. I made it this morning. 

In a small pot, I heated 1 TBS of olive oil. Then added 1 cup of rice medley. Stir to coat with olive oil. Package said add 2 and 1/2 cups (added 2 2/3 because I usually think brown rice is dry) low sodium chicken stock and brought to a boil. Once it was boiling I covered and lower to lowest setting for 50 minutes (package said 35). Once timer goes off, turn stove off, but do not remove lid for at least 15 minutes. 

I packed 3/4 cup and topped with 1/4 cup of red (low sodium) kidney beans (rinsed and drained).

I thought rice was tasty. Easy, and if he eats it all that's about 6 grams of fiber.

He didn't eat it all. 

Here was his menu for and intake for Tuesday 6/25 (I figured out intake by using nutritional facts on package and my WW App)

Breakfast: 1/2 banana, 1/3 peach and 1/4 cup oatmeal (about 3 grams of fiber)

AM snack: 1/2 cup raspberries (4 grams fiber)

Lunch: 1/4 cup rice and a Tbs red beans (2 grams fiber)

PM snack: 1/2 cup broccoli 1/4 grapefruit 3/4 cup oatmeal with 1/2 banana mashed into it (6 grams fiber) 

Dinner: 1/4 cup carrots, 1/4 cup baked french fries (Trader Joe's), 1/2 Morning Star black bean burger (5 grams fiber) 

Total 20 grams 

We did it. This was actually an extraordinary day, he ate a lot. Some days, I can't get him to eat more than a meal. If I plan correctly, I think this is doable. 

If you want to up your child's fiber intake, first try to figure out what your child's average intake per day is. Remember to add fiber slowly. Animal's avg was 14 grams, All I really did was swap the little to no fiber meals with fruits and veggies and switched white rice out for brown rice. 

I'm going to try a new recipe out every week. I'll share the recipe here and whether or not it was successful. Have a recipe you want to share, or want to suggest one for my kid to test? Email me here.

9:26 min per mile

I have been running pretty consistently since January. It feels so good. Last October when I was trying to get back into it, my pace was over 10:30 min per mile. I told myself I would NOT let that defeat me. I had been slower before.Hell, I had not been able to finish even one mile before. So I decided to be proud of that pace, and I was.

That's not to say I wasn't envious of faster runners. I was just satisfied and happy to be out there. It didn't matter the speed. Just that I kept at it. I knew speed along with distance would come as a reward for my consistency. My reward, for sticking with it. I am in this for the long haul. So that was fine with me. I could handle it.

I have mentioned getting lapped by senior citizens before, and I was not joking.

There was this one silver haired man in particular. He has inspired me so. Every time I tried my feet (if you will) at running, he was there, on that track. I would get there and he would be running. I would finish my mile, eventually, painstakingly, my two miles and he would still be running.

I would watch him with awe and envy. One day I would say to myself, I'll be like that man. I'll be the first one here and the last to leave. I'll be slim and strong. The young people will notice me and maybe snicker that I even bother to run at my age, but my steady feet and consistent pace will earn me their respect.

As time went on and the years fell away. I finally dared to call myself a runner. I would run 3-7 miles at that same track at a 8:10 min per mile pace. I was small, strong and steady. Sometimes I wouldn't see the old man for weeks. His absence was felt. I would worry. My dad and I would talk about our admiration for this gentleman, and how we just wanted to be like him.

One day after a long absence, I saw him, at the track. I said hello, and told him how I always saw him and missed him in his absence. Then he said to me, "I see you all the time too. There aren't that many women runner's here. You're very fast. Good for you, keep it up".

I couldn't believe my inspiration had ever noticed me. I was elated. We got into the track, nodded goodbye and got to our runs.

I got pregnant, ran most of my pregnancy, and then after my sons birth ran sporadically at best.

During all of this time he was missing. My dad and I would speculate on his whereabouts. We live in one if the most expensive cities, maybe he retired and moved. We hated to think anything else.

Two weeks ago (after the almost crap accident) we saw him. I was excited. I asked him where he'd been. He said they moved out of state, but he was back working in the area for the summer. I told him I'd been worried, he laughed and asked how I was. I told him about my son. He congratulated me. We parted ways for our respective runs.

Halfway we were side by side in our lanes, he looked over and smiled. "You still got it", he said. My heart swelled with joy. I said something stupid, when what I really wanted to do was gush about how much he inspired me and how he "still had it". I was too fast, now that I'd taken a minute off my pace, soon I was ahead of him again.

I ran four and and quarter miles that morning. When I left he was still running. I couldn't have been happier.

Wanna Be

 Today as we celebrate the 4th of July, we here at Theme Thursday take a break from our regular topics to give you a chance to read something you may have missed we think worthy of your time. We invite you to click the button and find other treasures or to link your own. ENJOY :)

Years ago, Nike came out with Nike+.

An amazing system that connected a chip in your shoe, to your music (iPod), to an online GPS linked community. I have never been a fan of Nike, because I disagreed strongly with their manufacturing practices and so never bought a shoe that they made. Like the consumerist hypocrite I am, I quickly turned a blind eye to what I didn't like because I wanted this so bad.

That Christmas, my hubby bought me a pair of Nike+ shoes, the Nike+ chip and an i Pod Nano (I and the hubby also dislike apple and at the time used our awesome Creative Zen mp3 players). He spent a lot to hook me up with some outstanding running gear that I was dying to own.

Then, he said this (I'm totally paraphrasing because as mentioned, I have a terrible memory), "I want  to see your wanna-be-runner-ass on the track every morning, cuz I buy you new running shoes every year, because this is the year you're really gonna start running. And it never happens".

The hubby and I have known each other since our junior year in high school, so he has been privy to my desire to be a runner for a long time. This was always my new years resolution.

It was true. I always wanted to be a runner, but I always gave up. It was always something. The killer shin splints, my inability to breath, the fact that seniors were lapping me. I would about die every time I attempted to realize this goal. I literally thought my heart was going to explode in my chest. But him calling me a fucking wanna be, my ego could not take it.

I'm pretty competitive and I just cannot handle this sort of criticism, but what could I say? He was right. I was a wanna be. I always wanted to be, but I never put in the work. I always gave up.

Well not this time. This time I was going to be a runner or die trying.

Every other morning I got up. My brother would join me. We would run a mile. I turned up my Nano so loud that it drowned out my gasps for air. I told myself if I couldn't hear it, it wasn't happening. I would want to stop, but every time I wanted to stop short of that mile, I would say to myself, "Am I going to be a runner or a wanna be?".

Eventually, I was able to run that mile without being certain of my impending death. The Nike+ was an amazing motivator too. It added up my mileage, cheered me on and even congratulated me when I met a new goal.

One day I realized that we were running that mile in 12 minutes instead of 15+. I wasn't out of breath anymore. I came up with a plan we would run 15 minutes every time, my brother agreed. Then when I realized 15 was doable, I told my brother, "let's add 1 minute each week". He said OK.

Before I knew it, we were running two miles. Two miles in 22 minutes. TWO MILES. I would run and think, "who's a wanna be now?"

I'm grateful to my hubby, for always knowing just what to say, to chide me into giving it my all. And for always believing I can do it.

This post is brought to you
by the letter 'W'

No More Margaritas For Me

19 Damn points for this?

No more margaritas for me, it hurts just to think it. 

This is just another example of how Weight Watchers has changed my life. 

I had been pining over my favorite cocktail (to drink when out) since the day I first learned that I was pregnant. All of my pregnancy I talked about having a few with my sister, my friends and with the hubby when we went out to eat.

Then when Animal was born and I saw that I could just barely keep up with his ginormous appetite with precious little to freeze, I realized I would not be drinking until I introduced solids (maybe) or until his first birthday (what actually happened). 

On a date night a few weeks ago, I finally had my much drooled over drink. 

It was okay. Way sweeter than I remember. 

At home I use equal parts tequila, triple sec and cointreau then add the juice of two limes or a lemon. Anyway let's just say it was not what I remembered. Then later that night I added it in to my points tracker and God damn I couldn't fucking believe it! That cursing and taking the Lord's name in vane was completely necessary, and not at all  overly dramatic. 19 points! The same number of points that I had used to have grilled salmon over rice pilaf, steamed veggies AND a glass of wine at dinner! THE SAME AMOUNT FOR ONE MEDIOCRE DRINK! Well Fuck me, never again! No margaritas unless I'm home making the drink and can control the points so that I'm not wasting any on some syrupy crap, when I drink a margarita I expect copious amounts of alcohol involved to make a delicious and perfect concoction, that nets about 10 points.

Anyway, what I really wanted to share with you all is that I have surpassed the halfway mark. I have officially lost 24lbs. I am just a chunky monkey again. I can't tell you how amazing I feel to just be "normal". I'm weighing in at 145, 10lbs more than what is healthy for my height. A totally manageable amount of weight to lose before me. I feel so much better.

I can run with so much more ease. Climbing stairs is no biggie. Lugging my 27lb toddler is awesome (I know he wont always want to be held, hell he doesn't want to be held now!). I am no longer wearing ANY of my maternity gear. All the clothes I'm wearing now is my own pre-baby fat clothes I loved too much to get rid of. 

I am starting to see definition in my arms again and even the promise of a waistline! Now don't get me wrong, I have noticed something I was dreading but knew was probably unavoidable. What I look like (specifically what my gut looks like) at 145 is much different (and by different what I mean is flabbier) than what my abs looked like before. Now they're just a sad, embarrassing mess. I'm gonna try hard to tone as much as I can, but also except that it's just different now. I'm older and a human being did take residency in this belly so, as much as I don't love it, I do love that baby and myself so, that's that.

Ok, so here's the new update of my next milestones:

1 lb to lose and hit 25 (where I'll get a Nifty charm from WW)

7lbs to hit the weight I was at the doctors appointment when I learned I was with child.

10lbs to hit my the healthy weight range! 

18lbs to hit goal. 

So the next update will come once I hit goal and start the maintenance part of my life. 

When I rejoined WW with my good friend, nursing student, we decided that this time the goal isn't the weight. It is to learn from our mistakes, and change. This time, we need to figure out why we do, what we do, and just stop doing THAT. 

So easy to say. SO hard to do. But I am really, really trying. 

To be truly honest with myself and just be different. I'm tiered of giving in to my weaknesses. It's time to be the best me, because I love myself, because I want to be healthy and because I want Animal to have a great example.

I'm excited to change. 

TT Fat Kids

I wasn't a fat kid, but once I hit puberty I started packing on the pounds. It was tough to be a fat girl. There was no such thing as torrid, and few places carried anything over a size 11, so I started buying men's jeans. I was lucky though. I was (am) pretty awesome. I was (am) outgoing, talkative, amusing, friendly, opinionated and nice. People liked me. I had friends, and boyfriends, and people didn't make fun of me (to my face or to my knowledge anyway). Even with all that, it was hard. I can't imagine what it would have been like if people had teased me. If I had been bullied. I would have been destroyed.

After high school, I started making changes. I cut out soda. I drank fat free milk. I ate less garbage. I started working out. Slowly, over the years, I got healthier. I educated myself and immersed myself in fitness books, magazines, and websites. I started running. Lots and lots of times I started running. Until one day miles and miles behind me, I was a runner.

It wasn't easy to make those changes, small and slow as I made them. My parents made fun of me when I switched to fat free milk. "Would you like a glass of milk, or are you going to have a cup of dirty water?" my mom would ask. 

When I switched to cascade fresh non fat yogurt, with no artificial flavors or added sugar (except fruit) I gagged the first few times. My dad would say, "Why eat that if you don't like it? Food is one of the pleasures of life. You should enjoy it". I explained I would like it eventually; I just wasn't used to it yet. It was hard for them to understand. They weren't obese like me. Maybe they even took it as an insult that I would question the food they worked hard to provide and prepare. Food was one of the first things I bought for myself when I started working.

I don't want that for my kid. I don't want for him to struggle with weight like I did. So, for years before I even considered parenthood, I decided that I would do whatever it took to help any offspring I might have avoid that fate.

One of my reasons for breastfeeding was statistically breastfed children are less likely to be obese.  I waited to introduce solids until six months, for the same reason. In fact, nearly all of the food choices I have made up to this point in my son's life are to help him be more likely to be healthy. 

I joined weight watchers, because I know I have to be healthy in order to be a good role model, and because he is more likely to continue these habits if they are family habits. So even though I don't like to cook, I do. Even though I love to eat fast food, I don't. Even though I'm tiered and don't want to spend every weekend at a park when I could be watching TV, I will be. For the next oh, ten years or so, I'll be at the park playing with my son.

People are willing to admit that we have a problem in this country when it comes to our ever widening waistlines, but not so much that it's a serious problem within our families. That it's putting our children at risk. That it's putting our country at risk. It doesn't seem that many of us are willing to take responsibility over this problem and resolve to change it. If not in our country, in our home, at our own kitchen tables. 

When I child is fat, It's not their fault. They can't do it alone; We have to help them. We have to be their (and our own) advocates. It wont be easy, but we can do it. Our children deserve to be healthy. It's our job to make that happen.

This post is part of a multi blog collaboration, to read about some other hot topics, or to add your own rant thoughts, just click the TT button.

For Women Only Edition

This post was updated today. So that I could use in the ABC's of Swearing, because when I Googled curse words that begin with the letter V, all I found over and over, was Vagina and Va JayJay.

Vagina? Really? Can I just say that offends me as a woman that Vagina would be considered even on one list a bad word. Va JayJay? maybe, if only because it isn't proper.

Without further ado,

Is my vagina broken?

The first thing I do after I start menstruating each month is find my hubby (if it's the weekend) or wait for his call so that I can say, "Guess who's not pregnant? Me!". Then shortly after using my first tampon, I ask this question: Is my vagina broken?

 I'm not trying to be funny. I really, honestly ask myself this question every month.

Before baby, I had a really light period. 3 days and done. Now after baby, it's still basically 3 days, and only the first day is heavy (just like before) but now, I leak. I don't mean I pee when I sneeze or laugh, like at 9 months pregnant. I mean that I have to wear a panty liner for the entirety of my cycle, and the reason I do is because no matter how light or how recently I changed my tampon it leaks.

WTF? Is this normal? Am I going to go through the rest of my life going through a ton of panty liners and tampons? I'm considering just using pads. Am I crazy? At first I thought maybe I'd forgotten how to use a tampon. I even re read the instructions. I'm doing it right.

So what's the problem? I haven't googled for fear of what kind of sights it might refer me to, but I have a consultation for tubal ligation with my Ob/Gyn coming up and I plan to talk to her about it then.

In the meantime. Every time I get my period and leak I want to tweet, Is my vagina broken? I restrain myself, but as this post was written specifically for the Honest Mom hop, I decided to share.

Anybody have any ideas? The hubby says I'm just old now. Is that it?

UPDATE: My Va JayJay is just fine. The consultation was rescheduled (by the doctor, not me), but I started trying different brands, and I found one! I found one that works. I'm so happy. Thank you to all the women who left comments when I first posted this.

This post was brought to you
by the letter 'V'

Weight Watchers

Guys as you know I joined weight watchers in January.

On the 19th to be exact.

I had been mulling it over for sometime. As I just couldn't do it on my own. I took my sweet time because I just honestly couldn't afford it. I have lots of important things in my budget and the truth is that I know what to do to lose the weight. I don't NEED WW.

Except that I totally do.

There's something about having to step on the scale every week in front of an often older woman, who has lost 40, 60, 100 lbs and kept it of for 5, 10, 20 years.

If you have a shitty week and couldn't stick to the program, you're up .5 lbs or more, their genuine and understanding questions like, "what happened this week?", really help. No matter what you answer, "I couldn't resist the cake", "I binged all weekend", "We went on vacation this week", they just nod in a knowing way, smile and encourage you, "what will you do differently this week...". I just need that.

I'm super competitive, it's hard for me to sit there every week and not try to do better. A lot of people there have a lot more weight to lose than I do. They keep at it. I can too.

The meetings are great. I have a lot of food issues. I'm addicted. (kind of like with alcohol, except that I need food), WW gives me the tools I need to eat in moderation. I'm about to share a big secret with you.

I have been an unofficial member of OA (over eaters anonymous) before. I have sat in my car and participated in phone meetings before. When I was skinny. Just because you "look" normal (maybe better than "normal") doesn't even kind of mean you are. I've tried talking about it with my friends and family, but they were very dismissive about it. It's not their fault. If your not an obese cow and you look great, workout and everything, they think you're exaggerating. Or maybe that your being hard on yourself. WW gives me the tools I need to see what it is I need (including treats and indulgences with a clear line in the sand).

Don't be worried about me. Since I became pregnant something in my brain switched. I haven't binged once. Not even when faced with an emotional trigger. I have pigged out, but that's not the same thing. When you binge your not eating till it hurts, you're eating till something inside of you is full.

Don't get me wrong it hurts, but it also fills something inside of you. It quiets a voice, subdues an emotional hurt that can't be subdued in any other way. Comforts you when there's no consolation. Being a mom, somehow filled me.

Anyway back to WW. I'm four weeks in. I've lost my first 10.6 lbs. As promised here is the post to let you all know where I am. I weigh the same thing I weighed a week after Animal was born. A pound away from weighting the least I've weighed since his birth.

10 pounds away from what I think a normal person weights.

19 lbs more than I weighed when I found out I was pregnant.

32 away from my goal.

I'm not sure when to update you next. So I'm going to leave it up to the comments. I could do again in about a month, just after my 35th birthday. Or as promised when I shared this goal with you at the halfway mark, in 10 more pounds or so, I'm a super shitty math student, I'll figure it out what that number is later. I don't want to bore anyone with my weight issues. Or pat myself on the back too hard. It's a struggle and a journey I don't mind sharing or keeping to myself.