Lots of Math and Numbers.... Here comes skinny Lady Fromage!

I was hesitant to say anything because I didn’t want to look like a failure if I didn’t make my goal, but since I did (plus some!) I’ll share now:

I lost 11.5 pounds! I dropped a pant size!

My goal was to drop 10 before hubby came home (This morning!). This was a rather lofty goal, because realistically, one should only loose 1-2 pounds per week. I only had 3 weeks, so I should have been aiming for something like 6 pounds at most. But I made it! Perhaps not the best way, but desperate times call for desperate measures. (I’m the heaviest I’ve ever been, and frankly, I feel terrible about it)

In the last 14 days, I’ve only eaten more than 1,000 calories twice. And even then, I stayed under the 1,200 mark. Most days I finish somewhere between 800-950, and I’m drinking water like a camel! I’m also taking a supplement called Hydroxycut (oooh, I know that’s so bad, but it’s working miracles for me).

My long term plan? 33.5 more pounds to go (To put me at the lowest possible suggested weight for my body type and height) for a total loss of 45 pounds.

Now that hubby’s home again for the month of June I’m only expecting to lose only 1.5 pounds per week. Just being realistic, I’m fully aware that I cannot spend the rest of my life eating like this, but as long as I stay under 1,800 calories I’ll maintain my current weight. It takes 3,500 calories to lose a pound, which means I can still enjoy 1,300 or so every day while he’s home, and with a little exercise, still see a pound and a half drop every week. I also expect to be more…. active.... while he’s around ;-) Reasonable goal: 1.5 pounds per week for the month of June. This means I by the time he leaves again, I’ll be 6.5 pounds lighter than I am now (I hope to knock off that extra .5 while I’m at it), leaving me with merely 27 pounds to go!

I figure I can get aggressive about my diet again in July while hubby’s away at NTC (National Training Center in CA, preparing for the upcoming deployment). My goal for July is 4 pounds per week, which is still more than I should expect, but doable (It's what I'm doing now). If I can pull it off, when he finishes up in August, and we fly to Vegas, I’ll have lost a total of 32 pounds, with only 11 left to go!

I know the last 10 pounds (or 11, in my case) always seems like the hardest to shed, but once I’ve made it that far, I hope I’ll have the determination to finish! My 1-year anniversary will be about 7 weeks away, if I can keep on track with 1-2 pounds per week, I’ll reach my goal by September 19th! (Not to be pessimistic, but, if my anniversary is too ambitious of a date, my back up plan is by the end of the year. THAT I can do for sure).

Wish me luck! I’ll be posting updates with my progress!

Cecil and my Movie Marathon

I really will post about the tea party, I promise.

Last week I was sick. Normally I tough it out, but this stomach bug kicked my fat A$$. I spent most of last week/end on the sofa. On the plus side, I did get to watch a ton of Netflix. I got hubby a blu ray player for his birthday last month and we can now stream movies to our TV instantly. I’m not tech-savvy, but this is pretty neat. Since I didn’t have to concern myself with what anyone else might want to watch, I was able to indulge myself in a few of the quirky indie films I enjoy so much:

-Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

-Manhattan, Kansas

-2 episodes of Mighty Morphin Power Rangers (Did I just admit that? Yikes… It was the fever that made me do it… I’m sure that’s what it was.)

-Cashback

-Brief Interviews With Hideous Men

-The Office: Seasons 1 and 2 of (Not really a feature film, but enjoyed none the less)
-Women In Trouble
-The Lovely Bones
-Bride Wars
-Caveman (Only because I am in love with Ringo Starr...)
-Knocked Up
-Mini-marathon of MTV’s True Life (Not a movie, but I watched it for a few hours…)

-The Princess Bride

So there you have it. All that time and I watched a ton of movies and crappy television instead of blogging about the tea party. Hang in there; check back, you’ll see it before too long! It’s worth the wait!

On a quick side note, a man named Cecil just made my day. You see, Cecil was one of my dearly-missed Satchel’s middle names. Satchel was a very regal dog, or at least I pretended that he was. He had a very fancy name; his official title was as follows: Satchél, Roy Wilkins, Cecil, Surname. (All this for a dog, who, before I got him was called simply “Puffy”). I like to think Satch was looking down on me and wanted to make me smile after a long, rough week/end. Thanks for the smile, Satchel, I miss you buddy!

No Keys, No More Superhero Status

I’ve got quite the story to share with you tomorrow, so be sure to come back and read about my Tea Party! I promise it’s a doozie….!

In the mean time:

Friday I locked myself out of our house. Twice.

The first time, I climbed the 6 foot privacy fence, got trampled by 2 muddy dogs, found the spare key and entered the back door. Then I locked my house key inside again, this time I also locked the spare, just to make things interesting. So I had to hop the fence again (As if doing it once wasn’t impressive enough…), got muddied up by the dogs again, and since the spare key was locked safely inside, I then had to climb up and over patio furniture and maneuver myself through a tiny window about the kitchen sink. In the process of breaking in (again), I accidently dropped my favorite tiny cow down the sink where he met his final hour in the garbage disposal (RIP, Tiny Sir Lion)

In other news, I found out I am not in fact, a superhero. On Sunday morning a nurse was able to collect a sample of my blood. While I’m saddened to learn that my superhero status is no more, I’m more than a little glad to finally be done with all of this – I was getting pretty sick and tired of all the fasting and vein pricking.

Hubby sent me this sweet text this morning:

“Good morning baby, i hope you got some sleep! I love and miss you so much! And just so you know, even though they got ur blood, you’re still my super hero!”

Aw. Thanks, hubby!

The Honeymoon Is Over

People say that the beginning of a marriage is the best part, but I disagree.

Starting out is rough! I’m glad the “honeymoon phase” is over. It’s hard learning to share your whole life with someone else. The longer we’re together, the better things get. I’d hate to think that the highlight of our lives was deciding who would pay the bills (hubby) and who would pick up dog poop (me).

I thought I’d be glad when our actual honeymoon was over, but that got better, too.

I’m not a good traveler, and unless you count a quick hop across the border into Mexico more than 10 years ago, I’d never left the country. We decided we would go to Sicily. I’d always wanted to visit Italy, and hubby, who had been before, loved Sicily (where his grandmother was born and raised) and wanted to share it with me. I applied for a passport, he rented us an apartment overlooking the water and we hopped on a plane the day after the wedding.

When we finally reached Italy, we found out our luggage didn’t come with us. We ended up buying 2 toothbrushes, 1 bottle of toothpaste, 1 bar of soap for something like 28 Euro-Dollars (“just Euros,” hubby corrected me; “you don’t have to add 'dollars' to the end”).

After landing sans-luggage, we still had a 2 hour bus ride ahead of us. Sitting at the crowded bus stop, tired, hungry, unable to understand the language being spoken around me, wearing stinky clothes and having no idea where my bag was, I started crying, and I (I can’t believe I said this…) asked hubby to please just take me home. He did no such thing, of course, but gave me a hug and told me it would be ok, we’d have a great time (and we did!)

Our apartment was on the top floor, up 78 stairs, and 78 stairs is a lot for anyone with a bad knee. Once inside it was beautiful with a wonderful view of the water. Speaking of water, we only had running water for 60% of our trip. Thankfully there was torrential rain every night (except the second to last evening), so we got drenched … er, I mean, to rinse off.

FYI, it’s not terribly romantic to spend your honeymoon un-bathed. It wasn’t a huge deal though, since the bed was so uncomfortable that hubby and I ended up sleeping separately on the sofa and loveseat at night.

Despite it all, we really did have a great time. We got our luggage back on day two, and the water typically came on every other day. The food was fantastic and the experience of walking the streets in Sicily and visiting the old churches and the Mediterranean were unsurpassed. I loved the comfortable pattern we fell into, waking up to the sound of the ocean, getting a pastry before heading to the market for fresh fruit, bread and cheese. We’d snack on our purchases during the afternoon with a glass of wine, go for a walk or read and have a delicious supper every night followed by gelato on the beach. Neither of us was ready to leave when the time came.

I’m really glad hubby didn’t just take me home.

There’s a Chicken Truck!

Recently hubby and I were in the car, he had just finished driving us through a scary stretch in the torrential rain when I turned to him and complimented his motor-vehicle operational skills. He looked out the window at the surrounding traffic and asked, “What?”

I repeated myself, “You’re a good driver”

He looked more confused than before.

Alright, you egotistical maniac, how many times do you need to hear me praise you?

For the third time, “You’re a good driver”, this time v – e – r – y c – l – e – a – r – l – y.

Hubby laughed and thanked me. Then he told me what he’d heard.

“There’s a chicken truck,” followed the second time by “Can we drive it?”

If anyone ever asked YOU if they could take a chicken truck for a spin, you’d probably assume you heard them wrong, but hubby knows better than that. Of COURSE I would want to drive a Chicken Truck; he just wondered where I saw one… (And by the way, I totally DID see one this weekend! I about died!)

I love, love, LOVE livestock. One day, when we’re not renting a home in a cul-de-sac, I’m going to have chickens and a Holstein cow. Mostly I’m excited about the cow. His name will be Sir Loin and he will wear a purple sash.

I once dreamt of having 59 cows, all wearing green and orange silk sashes. Hubby and I would walk them, 4 at a time, around the pasture each evening, and the 59th cows, the most important cow, Sir Loin, wore a purple sash and was walked privately in the sunset, after all of the other cows were put away for the night.

I was successful in convincing him to one day make room in our hearts (and our yard) for “The Loin”, but hubby swears he will never walk any cow, Sir or otherwise, on a sashes of any color no matter what the time of the day.

And um, yeah, I do totally dream of cows.

Weekend by Numbers

1- Weekend

20 - Hours spent in the car

2 – Very patient dogs who were real troopers for the long trip

2 - Sugar-free Red Bulls purchased at gas stations

4 – Herds of cattle seen containing black and white cows

1,000,000 – Times I had to switch the station because Taylor Swift was on

2 – Times I heard Dierks Bentley’s new song “Up on the Ridge” (I’m in love with his new acoustic/bluegrass sound. Why couldn’t I hear this 1,000,00 times?)

1-Bridal shower attended for younger sister

10 - Acres at my parents house, where the shower was held

7- Dogs playing outside during the shower

1- Ethiopian meal enjoyed with my in-laws (dee-lish!)

2 - Additions to my black and white cow collection

3 - Feet long, the size of the larger stuffed cow

281 - Dollars we forgot we had in a bank account in Colorado (sweeeet!)

99 – A mile marker on I-70, in the middle of nowhere between Kansas and Colorado

1 – Blown tire at said mile marker

1 – Hours spent waiting for roadside assistance

55 – Miles per hour it’s safe to drive on a spare tire

99 – Percent of auto shops who are closed on Sundays

1 – Hour spent waiting at Wal-Mart for a new tire to be put on

87 – Dollars spent on a new tire

3 – Dollars spent on an uber-cute tank top found while waiting at Wal-mart (clearance, baby!)

0 – Times I got pulled over for speeding

1 – New total number of times I’ve driven from Kansas to Colorado and not been pulled over for speeding

17- Days left until hubby comes home

Letter to Josh Thompson

Dear Josh Thompson,

While you’ve probably never seen my blog, you’ve sent me lots of traffic! Sadly, most of them are only looking for lyrics to your new song, they end up on this post and stay for “0:00” but thanks for trying to help anyway. It’s much appreciated.

Since this is a semi-anonymous blog, I’m not soliciting followers and comments from friends and family. Any hits, even accidental, are pretty exciting.

Thank you for your assistance in attracting readers.

Oh yeah, and I totally think you’re the bomb. Hubby and I’s official song is “Beer on the Table” Or it would have been but it wasn’t actually released yet when we got married so we danced to Tim’s “My Best Friend” instead. Otherwise we’d have totally picked Beer…. Well, maybe not. But we love it anyway.

Sincerely,

Lady Fromage

(By the way, if you’re only here looking for the lyrics to a song, here you go. Just come back when you’re done reading, okay?)

I’ll say it again. I think I’m a superhero.

I’ll say it again. I think I’m a superhero.

I had to fast yesterday for another blood test, since as you’ll recall, they were unable to collect any of my precious blood last time they tried.

I don’t know why they scheduled this test for SIX-FREAKING-THIRTY IN THE EVENING. I was starving all day. Anyone who knows me knows I’m not a good person when I’m hungry. So really, any day is a bad day to fast, but yesterday was especially sucky because there free ice cream at work. 3 gallons of chocolate deliciousness and I couldn’t partake. I almost caved in. Almost.

They said the problem with my inability to bleed last time was because I was dehydrated, but truth be told: it’s probably because I am a superhero.

I drank 50oz water the night before my test, and over the course of the day yesterday, drank a little more than 64 oz. Since my last test 3 weeks ago, I’ve been drinking at least 32oz of water every day and have cut back to (gasp) 1 or 2 sodas per day. I’m clearly hydrated.

There’s only one explanation: Lady Fromage is a superhero. She doesn’t bleed. (Except when I get nervous, I get nosebleeds when I’m nervous. Like the 2 I had on my wedding day. And a few other inconvenient times, but I’m not going to go there. You can use your imagination. )

Oh yeah, I should mention that the other possible thing, I might just have “special, tiny veins” like the healthcare worker said.

No. No, I still think I’m a superhero.

Lady Fromage is a Bee-Ach

A little ashamed to admit this:

Know what I did yesterday morning? I emailed a girl who posted an online classified ad attempting to give away her “great” full grown cat because she wanted a puppy instead. I wrote her a friendly email and suggested she keep the cat since she’d made a commitment, reminded her that pets aren’t disposable, and you can’t just get a newer cuter one when they grow up, yada yada and all that crap. (The sarcasm is flowing, folks, it wasn’t a friendly email.) Sorry for my email, lady. It’s ok, you should totally dump your cat, it’s no big deal. Sure he’ll end up dead in a shelter, but you can finally get that stupid toy-breed puppy. I should have minded my own business.

Yup, I’m totally being a bee-ach. This is inexcusable but could be attributed to a few things, some of which are:

I’m still a little cranky after the facebook stalking incident (See yesterday's post).

Since hubby’s gone (again), in addition to my normal battle to keep the house from looking like an episode of “Life after People”, I also get to do all of his chores, like mowing the lawn and taking out the trash.

Our backyard is full of craters because Erika is still digging. Only 2 of 6 rose bushes are surviving as of this morning. As if that wasn’t bad enough, our new cat, Toby, has taken to digging in my houseplants. Anyone want a slightly used German shepherd or tabby cat? I’ll give you a great 2-for-1 deal.

As of now, we still have not won the lotto. This means we are usually on the verge of being broke. This also means I can’t hire a fancy French maid to help me dust and clean up dirt from the houseplants.

I have finally come to accept that somewhere along the way I put on an extra 25 pounds. This sucks. I’m totally going on Weight Watchers or Jenny Craig… Any suggestions or success stories? C’mon, peeps, help me out here. I really want to be super-hot-wifey so hubby will loooovvveeee me!

Yes, I’m totally B*ITCHING.

But today, this made me laugh. I found this blog, and I’ll direct you to this post in particular.

Check it out, then get back over here and offer me friendly/helpful/supportive advice to drop a few pounds!

(No, I don’t normally email people and fuss at them for giving away pets. And I was totally kidding about the 2-for-1 deal on mine, no hate mail please)

Warning: Should not be left unsupervised

When I was single, I was a capable, functional adult, I did pretty okay. But now I’m married and I’m used to having a partner around to do things with. You know how they say “If you don’t use it, you lose it,” well I seem to have “lost it” because now, when hubby’s gone (lately, more often than not) I erm, this is embarrassing, I sometimes forget what to do.

For instance, the other night after mowing the lawn (Which should have been done at least 2 days earlier), I immediately changed into gym shorts and a baggy t-shirt with a cherry popcicle stain, made my way downstairs and plopped onto the sofa. How long I lounged there I couldn’t say. At some point I turned the lap top on and tuned the television to MTV to watch at least 2 hours worth of Teen Mom. When hubby called just before 9, he asked what I had eaten.

This is an important question because when I don’t eat, I get grumpy; hubby keeps tabs to avoid hostile situations.

I told him I hadn’t eaten anything for breakfast, but made a peanut butter and jelly at lunch. Oh yeah, and a popcicle. The stain reminded me. I did have one of those earlier.No, I’d really had nothing for supper.

After crying on the phone about how sucky it is that he’s gone all the time (This is why hubby likes me better when I eat…), I pulled it together and made myself a delicious meal consisting of a bowl of strawberries with Splenda and a few cheese curds (From our trip to The Cheese Store). I also had about a half bottle of Wal-Mart wine, which has something like 80% alcohol content. I was feeling pretty good until I decided to partake in a favorite hobby – facebook stalking.

Note: Even though it may seem like a good idea to facebook stalk your hubby’s MODEL ex-girlfriend, you will only feel terrible later. Especially if 2 weeks ago a group of boys indicated that you look like a cow… Just saying, it’s something to think about for next time…

Before I mustered the enthusiasm to brush my teeth and wash the mascara tears from my face, I fell asleep on the couch watching an episode of The Office. About 4am I woke up and dragged myself to the bathroom to clean up before crawling in bed for another 2 hours. Bleh.

Thankfully, this stage only lasts a few days, a week at most. Soon I’ll be functioning like a normal adult, practicing good hygiene and sleeping in my “big girl bed” again. Until then, I’m thankful for a job that forces me to shower and dress every day, because otherwise, it’s not outside the realm of possibility that I could be in the same pajamas for 3 straight days, eating nothing but popsicles until this phase passes.

Readers: I will not wear pajamas for 3 days straight, I will shower at least once every 24 hours and finally, I promise to refrain from looking at the ex’s modeling shots, especially when I’m drunk on Wal-Mart wine.

My Aversion to Water

Twice recently I have had to have my blood tested. I first went to my doctor for a routine checkup which included a full panel of blood work, and not being in the doc’s office too much, when they instructed me to fast, I took it very literally. No food and no water for 12 hours before my appointment. Hubby told me later that water would have been ok. I wouldn’t have drunk it anyway, I hate water.

The Army does their lab work sort of like the DMV handles their customers. No appointments, you just show up and take a number. I was number 626, by the time they finally found a vein and took my blood, which was like molasses, number 632 was finishing up in the seat next to me.
The very next week I had to have another sample taken for a life insurance application. Sadly, they couldn’t just use the results from my test the week before. Go figure. This time, I drank one glass of water the night before. I also had a glass of water when the health worker set up in our living room. Good for me staying hydrated.

First she couldn’t find my vein; she maneuvered the little needle around inside my arm for a while, and then gave up, in hopes of a better vein elsewhere. When she removed the needle, I didn’t even bleed. (For the record, I think I am a superhero. I don’t bleed! C’mon! How much cooler of a super power can you get, folks?) After commenting on how dehydrated I was, she tried again. She found a vein, but could get no blood (Again I say: SUPERHERO…?). She’s only allowed to poke twice, so that was the end of that. I was instructed to start drinking some freakin’ water and call her back to try again.

I bought a 32 oz metal water bottle at Wal-Mart last weekend. It’s super cute (teal) but I still hate water. Diet soda has water in it, why can’t I just drink THAT? I LOVE diet soda. Sheesh. But because it makes hubby happy, I’ve been drinking some (gross) water. I need to make hubby happy because I accidently broke his super cool, totally awesome, brand new as a gift beer stein. Sorry hubby. (Beer has water in it too, maybe I could just drink that?)

Besides my disgust for the taste of water, I also don’t like swimming in it. I am almost a quarter of a century old and I can’t swim. I’m ok until the water is deeper than I am tall, then I cry like a baby and forget how to do anything more than flail my arms in an attempt to doggy paddle. Hubby thinks this is cute/funny and often picks me up (But I love when he carries me around in the water because I feel dainty and light!) and carries me to the deep end where he threatens to let go. FYI, not so charming, hubby.

I also don’t like fish, which live in the water. Except for our blue beta, Lt. Shiny Sides, who lives in a tank with not one, but TWO lids.

Real Army Wives

Try as they might, the Army hasn’t yet been successful in forcing me to become too chummy with many of the other wives in my husband’s unit. While I faithfully attend the FRG meetings (Family Readiness Group), Hail and Farewells (Dinner parties for coming and going soldiers) and other “mandatory shoulder rubbings”, I don’t go to make friends; I go because it’s expected of me. I’m polite and social, but, shh, it’s all fake. I don’t want to be friends with most of those women.

My lack of deep, lasting friendships with my fellow Army wives is primarily because of these three things. This post will focus on point C:

A) I am an introvert. If you’re an extrovert, you probably don’t understand. If you’re an introvert yourself, you totally get what I’m saying.

B) The Army segregates soldiers, and many Army Wives find themselves stuck “wearing their husband’s rank” (I say stuck, but some wives actually love it). Since hubby was, until recently, the only married officer in the troop, I had no “peers”.

C) 97% of Army Wives suck anyway.

Only 3% of Army Wives are non-sucky Army Wives (NSAW). They don’t generally go out of their way to make friends with other Army Wives. The only reason I’ve come to know any NSAWs is if hubby knows a non-sucky Army Guy of similar rank, who has a NSAW (and if I’m lucky, she’ll have friends to introduce me to, too!). I am lucky to have some good NSAW for friends.

How to spot a SAW (Sucky Army Wife)

If you are approached and eagerly befriended by an Army Wife, she is probably a SAW. If she’s that desperate for friends, it’s probably because no one likes her. As before mentioned, NSAW usually keep to themselves.

SAW are generally stay-at-home-moms who’s kids are often “oh-so charmingly” named after Army posts (Riley, Carson, etc). They usually their facebook status hourly, at a minimum, with exciting things like “Baby had a poopy diaper, oh, I being a mommy!” or “I need 2 clean the house, but I’d rather b on facebook, lol”.

The NSAW usually works, which is important, it means she has a life outside of being an Army Wife.

(Important to note: I’m not bashing on stay-at-home moms, Army or otherwise. I plan to be a stay-at-home-mom one day, but I won’t be posting my every movement on my facebook status, ok? Ok.)

The other thing about SAW is that some of them are not just sucky, but actually crazy. Like the one who, upon first introduction, said this “Is your husband coming (to the dog park)? Because if he is, my husband doesn’t want to be saluting him and SH*T the whole time we’re here”. (This is a good example of “wearing your husband’s rank”). She followed that polite comment up with this question, “How much does your husband make? It’s sure as H#LL more than mine does! We never have any money, it’s not fair! How much do you make? It’s soooo not fair that they pay him so much more!” Ok, first of all, that’s just a rude question; you just don’t ask things like that, especially when we’ve just met. Second, you can look that up. You know my husband’s rank, and yeah, they do pay him more. My husband spent 4 years in school, and then went through another year of training to earn his rank, your husband could have done that too, but he didn’t. Maybe you could work, and then you wouldn’t be broke. That’s working for us.

Then there are the affairs.

I am in disbelief at how many Military wives don’t seem to understand the term INFIDELITY. As I said, I don’t even know that many Army Wives, but I can tell you 3 of them that have had affairs in the last 12 months while their husbands were deployed, 2 of them had kids.

Ladies, this shouldn’t be so hard. If you’re lonely, call your mom. If you have, ehem, other needs, buy a vibrator. Don’t cheat on your man.

If you think you yourself may be a Sucky Army Wife, don’t despair, there are multitudes of SAW out there, you’ll be sure to find some friends who will like your wall post announcing that it’s great that your kiddo, named after the place they were conceived, is finally down for a nap so you can watch Oprah. Just don’t bother ME with it.