Hey, You Got Your Tickets?. . .

"What tickets?" you ask innocently.
"To the GUN SHOW!" I say flexing my biceps maniacally.
Mwaaahaahaaa!
Lame, yes, I know. But I have worked hard on my arms and as I have not yet reached my goal weight, these arms are rockin' proof that I have indeed been doing something and not just wished the weight away. If only.
My sister-in-law and I went shopping last night. Yes, I know it's been a theme with me lately but my kids and husband are gone and I have to get while the getting's good. I went chiefly for some new workout pants and cute black sandals, not I might add to wear together. I succeeded in those regards. I also walked away with some cute summer tops. Both of them sleeveless.
Sleeveless!!!!!
Previously, I would never have even considered baring my arms to the world. It was so bad at one point that I would have worn a sweatshirt over my bathing suit if I could have. No more! I always marveled at those women who, while obviously larger than myself, seemed not at all bothered by the fact that their arms were uncovered and out there. What freedom, I thought. What confidence.
Now I get it. I don't have to have the best body, I just need to have a body that I'm not ashamed of. And I'm not ashamed anymore.
In fact, I'm pretty damn proud at this point. Don't agree? Hey, you've seen my arms right?

The Third Ring of Hell

Let me just start this post by saying that I love love love to shop! Could shop all day. I'm a firm believer in retail therapy to cure what ails you. My favorite vice is things for my home. A nice vase, a lamp, some beautiful drapes - how exciting. But now it's time to dress, not my nest, but myself. I seem to have put it off way too long.
I have skated by on too big jackets and shirts, dryer shrunk jeans, and an impressive repetoir of yoga pants. Now my 10th Anniversary of being married to Hubby is coming up and he is taking me on a short trip to celebrate. (He is really more of a trip giver than a gift giver, which is fine by me. : ) ) The down side to this whole thing is that I will need to pack a suitcase. CRAP! As my sister-in-law will tell you, I will put off packing my suitcase for any trip until it is practically time to pull out of the driveway. And I always forget something. Thank goodness there's a WalMart on every corner now.
The problem now is not so much that I don't want to pack, but that I really have nothing to pack. I seriously have like one pair of white pants that I love! and a couple of much loved and much worn sun dresses. This does not a summer vacation wardrobe make.
Add to that the fact that my mother has decided to come and kidnap take my kids to her house for a fun-filled week at Gran's. It's like the universe is telling me, "Go buy new clothes. You have no excuse."
And you should neeeevvver ignore the universe. So I suppose I will take myself to the mall. CRAP! Oh well, there's always Sephora!

Seriously!?!?

OK, I know I've bitched about this before, but it's kind of a big deal and well, it just doesn't stop making me mad. Skinny jeans! And gladiator sandals!
Are you kidding me? I suppose they are cute - in a hungry sort of way. But if you weigh more than, oh I don't know, 100 pounds you can't possibly hope to pull off the skinny jeans. Gladiator sandals are a slightly different animal in that you don't necessarily have to be a certain size to wear them. Other than the fact that you probably shouldn't have cankles, which of course leaves me out. And as any big girl knows the goal is to make your legs look longer and leaner and cutting them off visually at the ankle is probably not the best way to do that.
So there you go. Skinny jeans and gladiator sandals can suck it. The fashion police really should just declare that sausage casings are going to be the new must have for fall. It would be less cruel.

Skinny Bitches part 2

Oh my god, they are everywhere! No matter where I look or which way I turn there is a skinny bitch standing there to try an make me feel bad about myself. Two years ago their arsenal of skinny jeans and teeny bra straps would have sent me sailing straight for the nearest ice cream stand. But not today. Somewhere along the way I have managed to turn all that intimidation into pure unadulterated hatred.
I don't hate all thin women. I even get testy when someone says the oft' repeated "real women have curves" Well, as it happens I know plenty of strong, healthy, beautiful, REAL women who just happen not to have curves. But we are not talking about them.
We are talking about the chain smoking, view from above their noses, red bull & vodka, SKINNY BITCHES.
"I don't know what it is, I can eat all I want to and never gain any weight!" Really? And you felt the need to tell me this why. . .? Oh, yeah - now I see. I'm supposed to verbally acknowledge your physical superiority. Bite me, slim!
And skinny jeans - seriously. Don't even get me started. I recognize that there are many different body types and that not all bodies can wear all fashion. But, come on. The only women that can wear skinny jeans (and look good)  are super-model tall and twice as skinny. Out of my large group of friends I can think of only one woman who can authentically rock a pair of skinny jeans.
And speaking of fashion. . .
Raise your hand if you've ever gone shopping and been really excited to run into a sale only to realize that the only size left in the item you want is an XS. Wake up fashion industry and department store buyers! Wouldn't it stand to reason that if you consistently have only XS sizes left over and all the XL and L fly off the shelves before they barely get hung up that maybe, just perhaps, you should order more XL and L and let the XS fend for themselves. They'll be OK - they have skinny jeans.

Friday Quickie! 4/30/10

Der-by! Der-by! Der-by! That's right, sports fans. It's that time of year again. Time for the "most exciting two minutes in sports!" The Kentucky Derby! The first Saturday in May. The Great Kentucky Showcase. Call it what you want. I call it a good damn time.
No, I don't go to The Derby. Kentuckians don't actually go to The Derby, We get all dressed up and have big ol' parties. We wear big hats and drink bourbon without much julep. We bet on our favorite horses, not so much on the odds, as how much we like the name. And we never ever bet on a non-KY horse.
So I got my dress, I got my hat, I got my Woodford, and now I just have one question. If I'm wearing a great big hat does my butt size go down proportionately? Just sayin'. . .