Tag Archives: Weight

Holiday ‘Fiestas’ and Other Nerve-racking Fashion Moments

Here we are, one month and some change shy of 2011 and as of yet, I haven’t managed to eat my way to super skinny and fabulous.  You would think that by this point I would have just given in to all of my size 8, Latina curves and va-va-voom-ness but quite frankly, I’d prefer a bit more flatlands on this body than all of these mountains (i.e. the bubbies and my derrière).  Sure, I could have exercised myself into a nonexistent dress size but my list of excuses weighed down my ample butt.  Now the holiday invites are quickly multiplying in our mailbox and the angst of choosing the perfect dress for all of these extravaganzas has me completely flummoxed.  The husband, thankfully, doesn’t have these issues because he can wear anything he wants and still look like my Mr. McDreamy but this isn’t about him.  Let’s get back to my dilemma.  =)

So, do I go short and leggy?  This dress would require my thighs to undergo a rigorous treatment of love whacks and pat-downs of a rolling pin.  Perhaps I exaggerate but a few thigh treatments at the spa may be in order if I go this route.  These legs MUST be up to snuff before I sashay my sassy self in this little confection of loveliness.

Do I go long and svelte?  This sleek number would require the – ahem – TWINS to climb up onto a stepladder and harness themselves up and out in order to keep them in saluting formation. Hmmm…maybe I can squeeze in a ‘bubbie’ appointment for a slight tuck and lift before the fiesta countdown. Heh!

Or do I go camouflage ‘caliente’ in this simple but spicy little treat? This may be just the ticket to hide any unsavory pooch puffs.

Sigh.  No matter how I go about this process, just getting to the “WOW” will be no picnic.


How I Lost My Battle to Those Dreaded, Wicked Chicken Fries

Let’s just call it what it is – a lack of self-control. It was all I can do to maintain my fabulous size 6 va-va-voom-ness and then I go and throw it all away by going to the greasy, dark side of fast food. Hello size 8.

I am an emotional eater and when things get pitifully ugly, all my reasoning heads south and I indulge in foods that are probably not helping the body beautiful.

Most of my days are filled with your normal activities & angst; Wake up, meditate, exercise, de-ugly, dress me up, obsess in front of the mirror, feed the dog, kiss The Husband, make a mad dash for the car and put the pedal to the metal so that I can make it to work on time but still make the necessary pit stops in between. Make a quick stop at Star-bees (Starbucks), call the assistant, review the day’s schedule, speed-dial the fam & friends for a quick hello/have a great day, pull up to the office, slather on my war paint and smack on a smile before I face the office troops. Whew! And this is all before 8 a.m.

So needless to say, by lunch time, if my VERY last nerve has been jumped on by some woeful, unsuspecting soul, look out. There I am, skulking to my car before anyone sees me (ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies), huge oversized sunglasses on my face, sitting low in my car seat so as not to be seen going through BK’s drive-thru. Next thing you know, I’m sitting in BK’s parking lot, munching on these wicked little fries. Yes, my dirty little secret are those greasy, breaded, fried (read: yummy) chicken fries. I curse the day they created those things. Now I have to hit the tread (mill) twice as hard because of this newly found weakness of mine.

Sigh. Well, I guess there is nothing else I can do for now except to embrace my ample, GROWING, butt. Heh!