Operation: Unveil the Skinny (OUTS) has officially gone underway. What is it you ask? Well, I'll tell you. It's a side note of Operation: Kick My Own Ass (OKMOA). I started this blog with the hopes and determination to find myself through writing about my past endeavors as well as those yet to come. I have completely lost myself to relationships and always being a "Yes Girl" --refer to "Don't Be That Girl" by Travis Stork; it's a good book for those of us who are emotionally not self disciplined enough to keep ahold of ourselves throughout the process of dating. But back to being a Yes Girl,... I have completely lost myself. And my goals are to try new things, rustle up old interests, and make them MY interests again.
But back to OUTS, I am tired of being fat. Like, really F-ing tired of it. I'm tired of not feeling good about myself, and the constant lack of energy, the extra weight I still have from my pregnancy,...in general I'm ready to not be this heavy anymore. Thanks to this season's crew of The Biggest Loser, I was initially inspired. Seriously. And today I got myself a membership to a gym that is a grand total of 9.1 miles round trip from my house. This gym is also open 24/7 and THAT my friends, is fan-freaking-tastic for me. (I work a grosSly jacked up schedule) So, I took myself in tonight(even though I am dead on my feet and I really wanted to go to bed instead) and did about 30 mins cardio and some leg excersizes. Nothing crazy as I yawned THE ENTIRE time I was in there. But it felt good and I'm going to do it again.
I want to feel better in my clothes, and look better to myself in the mirror. This is not about "some guy". This is about me. This is all about me. I have an inner-skinny girl just DYING to get out. I'd like to see what she looks like. It's time to begin the process and start peeling back those layers. Start to unveil.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
The first installment...
Ok, well, here goes nothing. I was informed at one point during my rantings in my "Myspace" blogs that they were entertaining as hell to read and had a few that looked forward to the "latest" word. My life has drastically changed from those days. I'm no longer married, though would be pleased as pie if someone could tell me where the REAL men in this world are located. I am no longer single as I curently have one heck of an attachment. And I am a "new kid on the block" mommy. Hence the attachment.
My attachment's name is Ivan. He's about 7 1/2 months old now and is THE love of my life. In future postings should I blog of feelings towards a man, and those be expressed as "the love of my life"...I'm lying to you and will be in need of a swift reminder that my head is no longer running the show. (the reminder I will leave to your disgretion) Ivan came in to my life on St.Patrick's Day of 2009 (March 17th for those of you still sleeping) and has been an ever present lesson on patience and unconditional love.
Before Ivan, I was THE most impatient person... usually resorting to stomping my foot on the petal to the right, and passing on the shoulder, the idiot in front of me...doing the speed limit. These days I'm usually in the company of some pretty precious cargo that I would promply release postal urges and open 50 gallon drums of good old fashioned "whoop ass" should some retard harm even the slightest hair on his head. That being said, I tend to excersize a little more patience these days. I will not lie to you and say ALL of my hot-headed days are over, but I believe that your children learn by watching YOU and do not want to be dealing with a pint sized hot-head in future days. No, thank you. So I attempt to keep my keel a little more even.
The unconditional love part is really self explanitory. Nothing quite says unconditional like baby puke that hits your throat and slithers between your boobs to slide down your stomach and completely RUIN the shirt you just had on, the great mood you were just in, and the perfume you just sprayed. This was delivered with a smile mind you. A big, "I've got three teeth in my head, wanna see?" gorgeous smile. How thankful was I that it didn't reek... I love that child to pieces. Seriously.
And in the 7 1/2 months of his external existence, it still has not hit me. I'm a mom. I am responsible for making sure this little guy gets the nourishment he needs every day, is protected from the elements, has diapers to be changed into, is comfortably clothed, and on a larger scale...goes to school every day AND makes good grades... I'm responsible for instilling good moral fibers and values beyond the jacked up views our current society would have you to think were acceptable... This is a big job. Like, HUGE. Unfortunately, I'm doing this on my own. I'm a single mother. But, how many single mothers are out there and doing good jobs of raising their children? Lots, right? So, I am faced with a HUGE challenge that I am SO ready to take on. In my corner are the ones who instilled good moral fiber and values in me when I was just a wee lass. My parents. They differ not from other grand-parents. My mother lost her marbles when Ivan came along and we're still finding them scattered. HAHA She just goes sillybrain when it comes to her grandson. My dad's the same way. My sister,... don't even get me started. She calls him, "Mankey". Enough said.
So, this is my first installment to my refractory truth. It's the baseline to my story.
My attachment's name is Ivan. He's about 7 1/2 months old now and is THE love of my life. In future postings should I blog of feelings towards a man, and those be expressed as "the love of my life"...I'm lying to you and will be in need of a swift reminder that my head is no longer running the show. (the reminder I will leave to your disgretion) Ivan came in to my life on St.Patrick's Day of 2009 (March 17th for those of you still sleeping) and has been an ever present lesson on patience and unconditional love.
Before Ivan, I was THE most impatient person... usually resorting to stomping my foot on the petal to the right, and passing on the shoulder, the idiot in front of me...doing the speed limit. These days I'm usually in the company of some pretty precious cargo that I would promply release postal urges and open 50 gallon drums of good old fashioned "whoop ass" should some retard harm even the slightest hair on his head. That being said, I tend to excersize a little more patience these days. I will not lie to you and say ALL of my hot-headed days are over, but I believe that your children learn by watching YOU and do not want to be dealing with a pint sized hot-head in future days. No, thank you. So I attempt to keep my keel a little more even.
The unconditional love part is really self explanitory. Nothing quite says unconditional like baby puke that hits your throat and slithers between your boobs to slide down your stomach and completely RUIN the shirt you just had on, the great mood you were just in, and the perfume you just sprayed. This was delivered with a smile mind you. A big, "I've got three teeth in my head, wanna see?" gorgeous smile. How thankful was I that it didn't reek... I love that child to pieces. Seriously.
And in the 7 1/2 months of his external existence, it still has not hit me. I'm a mom. I am responsible for making sure this little guy gets the nourishment he needs every day, is protected from the elements, has diapers to be changed into, is comfortably clothed, and on a larger scale...goes to school every day AND makes good grades... I'm responsible for instilling good moral fibers and values beyond the jacked up views our current society would have you to think were acceptable... This is a big job. Like, HUGE. Unfortunately, I'm doing this on my own. I'm a single mother. But, how many single mothers are out there and doing good jobs of raising their children? Lots, right? So, I am faced with a HUGE challenge that I am SO ready to take on. In my corner are the ones who instilled good moral fiber and values in me when I was just a wee lass. My parents. They differ not from other grand-parents. My mother lost her marbles when Ivan came along and we're still finding them scattered. HAHA She just goes sillybrain when it comes to her grandson. My dad's the same way. My sister,... don't even get me started. She calls him, "Mankey". Enough said.
So, this is my first installment to my refractory truth. It's the baseline to my story.
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