Prom Picture Round-Up: Vote For Your Favoritest!
Saturday, February 06, 2010
Prom, prom, prom. Everything about it is uncomfortable and silly and wonderful for so many reasons. The planning, the nine hundred million phone calls, the months of scouring teenage magazines for hair and makeup ideas. It's my personal belief that were it not for proms, curling irons would have gone the way of the crimp.

For no reason at all (it's not prom season, I don't know any teenagers, no one is even discussing prom), I asked you to send me your prom pictures. For the sole purpose of posting them here for us to laugh at.

Huh? What's that? Laugh with? With. Oh yes, laugh with.

Every single entry is special in its own way. I've categorized them just for fun, not for any official reason. I invite you to peruse, enjoy, and comment on your favoritest photo. (Of course, it can be your favorite for any reason: ridiculousness, attractiveness, amount of hair spray...it's up to you.)

Also, while I am adding "color" commentary, please do not take my comments personally. They are intended kindly and in good humor. Because seriously.

I'll leave the voting open through Valentine's Day. The winner of the most votes for favoritest will receive a $50 gift card. One random entrant will receive a $25 gift card.

Thanks to all who entered.

And now I invite you to sit back, relax, get a cup of coffee, and enjoy!


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In the category of: FAMILY FIRST

I have also decided to kick this off with some photos of my sisters. Without their consent. Because if I'm going to dredge up photos and reminisce about our teen years, doing stuff to annoy my sisters seems perfectly fitting.


1. Wow! Look at Those SMILES!

This is my younger sister, Healy -- a freshman -- preparing to head to MY SENIOR PROM with one of my classmates who she may or may not have been dating. She was very secretive about the whole dating-Kevin/not-dating-Kevin thing. Can't imagine why -- look how happy and comfortable they both look!

No, no, no need to hold my hand or put your arm around me. Upper-arm bumping is plenty intimate, thanks.


2. Another Happy Couple!

A few years later, Healy went to a different prom at a different school with a different guy she also wouldn't admit to dating. I won't comment on that -- although I'd feel remiss if I didn't direct you to his website -- but my point is that these factors combine to make her wearing the same dress to a second prom okay.


3. Why They Don't Have Sofas in the Dressing Room

This is mostly a sweet picture, and I think my sister, Sam, looks gorgeous AND slim. But no one should ever take a picture of a woman in her prom dress while she's sitting.

Remember how much fun that was? Discovering that you could either breathe or ride in the limo, but not both? Nothing says elegant like turning blue in a rented-by-the-hour moving vehicle. Careful, the turns are tricky!


In the category of: GOING TO THE CHAPEL?

4. Always a Bridesmaid

I love this photo for two reasons.
#1 This is really a prom, not my sister's bff's wedding; and
#2 Not one but TWO of the guys here were gay-but-not-out yet.

Ah, high school. Such a magical time of hairspray and repression.


5. Cake Topper

Mendy writes: ...being that it's from 1988, there's a 4-bone hoop underneath it, and yes, that is a white lace overlay. I just wish I had a picture of the back. It was a spectacular mess of iridescent white ruffles. The 80s...they were not kind.

Oh, Mendy. It's okay...though it does look like someone took a giant-sized pastry bag and frosted the shit out of you and your wedding dress. And when they were putting the finishing touches on the cream-puff sleeves, they dripped some into your hair.

I mean this in the kindest way possible. I sincerely love that you have a Prom Scrunchie. That should count for something. And blaming the 80s is entirely appropriate. Blaming Princess Di would be even better.


RELATED: At this point I'm tempted to start a contest for Tackiest Prom Backdrop, except I don't know how we could ever pick a winner. They are all so bad. (Mine, which I'll post separately, are exceptional.)


6. Heeeeeere's...the Mother of the Bride?

Cathy writes: ...[this] is me at Junior Prom in Memphis in the 80's. Dig the entire bush of baby's breath in my hair that I totally kept in my hair for school the next day.

I think this is a beautiful dress (on a beautiful woman, clearly), but even for the 80s it's a bit...white? Sophisticated? Long?

My favorite part about this photo, though, is that both of these prom-goers are looking left and raising their arms in what looks to be a sweeping motion(?). Like game show hostesses about to display a lifetime supply of soup.

And the soup? Is making them miserable.


7. The Incredible Shrinking Prom-Bride

Kate writes: It's not really that hideous or tacky, though I really could have used a bra. And my god, the permed hair. I blame my mother.

While this prom picture is awesome in many, many ways, my favorite aspect of it is, well, the aspect of it. Most fake wood paneling I've seen is maybe 4" to 6" wide. These GIANT panels (set off by the lovely lily-pad green carpeting, I should add) make Kate look like she's the size of a leprechaun. Or a prom-bride-fairy.

A prom-bride-fairy with a perm.


7-and-3/4. Don't Ask, Don't Tell.


I am sorely remiss in posting this AWESOME contribution a little late (added 2/6 at about 9 p.m.) First of all, Willie/Bill is the only male who entered the contest, and he should be lauded for that alone. Secondofly, this photo is the kind that makes my entire insides happy.

The wallpaper alone would make this an outstanding entrant. Especially when you look closely...is that carpet blue?

Then there's the standard stuff...the date who looks like she's going to her wedding, her corsage which is notably larger than her breasts, Bill's bowtie that is -- quite noticeably -- larger than his face. It's all so good.

But it's the look in his eye paired with his suggestive lean that makes this photo great. And then? Then you read his email and it escalates into other-worldliness.

Bill/Willie writes: I was a virgin but hoping to get lucky (and sending out the wooden signals ...) I got nothing but a goodnight peck, so I went gay! Haven't looked back.



In the category of: BRUISED? NO, I'M JUST BLACK AND BLUE


8. Before There Was a Prius, There Was the 90s

Swistle writes: ...picture from 1990. We are, yes, UNDER A GIANT UMBRELLA. Also, my dress had sequins, PURPLE sequins, and a huge purple rose-like thing which emphasized my lack of problem going braless.

Swistle, I'm not arguing that the dress is purple, it just didn't photograph that way. Also, I am not clear as to whether the umbrella was because of rain or because the 80s were looming over you and your date like some great fashion challenge.

The hair bow is pretty spectacular. I especially like how you weren't committing to wearing your bangs down OR sprayed up, but sported the early 90s bangs-hybrid.


9. Violet! You're Turning Violet, Violet!

Paloma writes: In my quest to find the "perfect" dress for my Senior Prom I came up empty-handed. So I chose to have my Mom make my dress. I picked out the pattern, the material, and told her what parts to alter to my taste. Fourteen years later I can see that I looked like a giant blueberry.

Only a little.

Loooooooove the backdrop here. First you have the shimmery, mirrored floor (um, good thing you weren't wearing a short dress?). Then there's the inexplicable bunched-up gauze with fake flowers strewn about to resemble...I honestly have no idea what. A wedding cake? A snow bank? WHO'S TO SAY? But once you have mirrors and non-snow, I think it's only fitting that you add a pillar(?) and a giant starchy piece of fabric with glued-on stars, and then have it glow. Red.


10. It Was So Nice Of The Cullens To Let You Use Their Home for Photos, Part I

Megan writes: This is from 1986 and, from the dress to the date, it is 80s all the way.

I...the color...and the pinwheel...and the haircut...I mean, on both of you...it's...words... You kind of grabbed 1986 by the balls and said, "YES. I'M WITH YOU."

11. It Was So Nice Of The Cullens To Let You Use Their Home for Photos, Part II

This is Megan again, two years later (at Homecoming). She writes: This is 1988 and I am wearing the largest, widest shoulder pads ever created out of black velvet.

But the football team would have looked smashing in them.


12. Drama Queen

Liz writes: It was 1989, and if I remember correctly, I borrowed the hat from my drama teacher. What you can't see are the black masks on one ankle of my stockings. Don't worry, I saved that in my scrapbook, too.

Because with the hat.

Exhibit 12a:

Would it come as a surprise to you if I said that Liz is a director in her post-prom life? No?


In the category of: EVEN THE NORMAL PICTURES BRING A LITTLE BIT OF AWESOMENESS TO THE TABLE


13. Now That You're Graduating, Show Us Yer Tits!

Sahara writes: This photo is from Prom in spring of 1995, I was 16 (date was 17). Prom theme was "Mardi Gras" (show yer boobs and get smashed, what?). I was apparently going for the "luxe sofa" look, what with the black and white brocade. And fake pearls that didn't lie straight, but were all crooked and kinked. Rad.

There is really nothing wrong with Sahara's look here. I do enjoy that her date has been posed to suggest that he is very, very, very, very comfortable wearing a tux. What? I was just standing here in front of these giant multicolored masks like always.

But the Mardi Gras theme is what makes this picture precious. Absolutely nothing I know about Mardi Gras makes it an appropriate theme for a prom. I mean, is the rest of your life supposed to be like Lent? Or are you just supposed to flash your boobs, win some tacky beads, drink hurricanes the size of your geometry text book and then puke in the street? Because either way, Sahara and her date are not dressed for it.


14. Aw, You Know You Wish You'd Been Around for the 80s

AmyB and her date look adorable and while the backdrop leaves a lot to be desired (where are the stars? The strewn flowers?? The pillars???), I wouldn't have much to make fun of here.

Lucky for me, I don't have to.

AmyB writes: ...after dragging my poor, single mother around to a hundred stores, I finally convinced her to let me have my senior prom dress made. I totally designed the whole thing - a red, brocade halter style dress - which was a clear indicator that I did NOT have a future in design. Please allow me to point out my favorite parts of this (PROFESSIONAL!) photo: My dyeable shoes in complementary color; my nose, which I eventually grew into; my 'First Lady' circa 1965 hair-do; and my caterpillar friends, Hairy and Belafonte, both of whom can be seen hanging out above my googly eyes. Hey, at least my date was cute!


15. Is It Me, Or Are Teenagers Getting Younger Every Year?

Remember our lovely friend, Mother of the Bride above? Well, she's actually the mother of this prom-goer. Cathy writes: [picture is of] my daughter, Sarah's prom in Knoxville last year. Hard-headed teen REFUSED to wear a long dress.

Again, I'd be hard-pressed to point out any ridiculousness here -- although the date's hair is maybe just a few degrees TOO windswept -- but again, I'm rescued. Cathy adds: Her hair cost more than twice as much as the dress and shoes together.

It's tough being a girl.


16. White Shoes Don't, Actually, Go With Everything

This is quite a lovely photo of the contest entrant, SassyMonkey. She's the one in the center, looking stunning. If, you know, ever so slightly cold.

But I want to draw your attention to the lady in red. With the white shoes.

See, along with white dresses being verboten, my mother never allowed me to pair white shoes with colored dresses. She claimed that to do so would make me look like a Doublemint Twin. (I didn't know what this meant then, and I still don't. But it doesn't sound good.)

So a few years after my prom, when I was in college and not beholden to my mother's rules, I found myself invited to a Valentine's Day Ball at the US Naval Academy. I took myself shopping, and without my mother's input, bought myself a dress I thought looked smashing. (She hated it.) Of course, I can see now how incredibly ill-fitting a dress it was (was I wearing a bra, even?), but that's not even the point. The point is, I couldn't shake my mom's voice, telling me not to succumb to the allure of buying white shoes.

So I did NOT buy white shoes.


I bought white gloves.

(Do you hear that? It's me cringing, audibly.) (Also, I look about as happy as my sister in that first picture. Turns out? AWKWARD DOESN'T END WITH HIGH SCHOOL.)


17.
Alyssa writes: This was pretty much exactly five years ago. I love my dress but hate my hair! Seventeen magazine did it to me, not my fault.

Perhaps Seventeen magazine thought that if they encouraged teenagers to look like they'd taken a tumble between the sheets before prom, they'd be less likely to actually have sex afterward.

I'm just guessing here.


In the category of: SHINE, SHINE ON

18. U-wohn Day Yooer Een, Da Next Day Yooer Aut

Melissa here is just cute as a button. She and her date have the same amount of hair floof going on -- too much floof for these days, but rather controlled given that it was 1987 and bangs were known to escalate into the second layer of the atmosphere in such trying times.

But that dress? That is some shine. That is the kind of shine that gets your ass kicked off of Project Runway for even thinking about using. That is the kind of shine that if you're not careful, will be mistaken for one of the iridescent balloons adoring this prom backdrop.

Even better, though? I measured. And the Bow of Shine is bigger than Melissa's head INCLUDING her floofy hair. That gets extra points.

Ha, and speaking of extra points...
...I snagged this second photo of Melissa from her Facebook photos: Rotary phone with the twirly cord PRE-PROM, FTW!!!

"Why, yes, Mr. Floofy Hair, I AM ready, and I will outshine those balloons with the power of a thousand bows!...Uh-huh...uh-huh...wait, what do you mean 'What color is my dress'? I TOLD you it's pink-purple-blue-silver. Why would-- no, I don't understand. How exactly is a red cummerbund 'the same thing'? Uh-huh...no, absolutely not! I don't--[sigh]. Just be here in 20 minutes."


19. And He Melted

Melissa writes: This is my prom picture from 1988. I picked out a really cool black satin dress with spider web lace on the bottom, but my mother said black was not a prom-like colour. I got this -- yellow is close to black, right? Notice that the ruffle on one arm looks like it was added later? It was the result of a clothing malfunction from another formal dance at our school, when a young lady wore a strapless dress and "put her hands in the air and shook it like she don't care" and the cafeteria had a view of boobs. No strapless dresses at prom!

I don't want to seem biased in any way -- and I assure you I'm not -- but I love this prom picture a lot. A LOT A LOT. The shiny AND lace is everything a prom should be, and yet it's only the tip of the iceberg. Even with the matching? non-matching? shoes.

Because if anything cracks me up about formal affairs it's how the affair-goers are inevitably surrounded by those who are not attending. So you have all these super fancy-dressed people milling around -- always -- by people in street clothes. And (personally) I always think this makes the ridiculousness of it all the more pronounced.

The people behind Melissa are going to a backyard barbecue? The grocery store? IS THAT MAN (the one to the right of Melissa in the photo, wearing white socks and black sneakers and pegged(?) pants) SHIRTLESS???

But even aside from the color-- excuse me, this is Nova Scotia -- colourful people behind you guys, well.

Melissa, your hair. It is high. It is reaching toward the Sun. It is Icarus-like. What's better is that your date SHARES in your hair's aspirations. In fact, you could almost Photoshop your hair onto his head OR VICE VERSA and it would work! That's FANTASTIC. I mean, some couples share limo rides, share dances, share special moments at prom, but only the very special could share Photoshopped hair.

Um, and I am no whiz at Photoshop (it scares me), but I can clunk around Microsoft Word (yes, I said Word) like a word processing fool, and so here is what I was able to produce. Behold!:

I would not call this photo editing job well done, but you get the idea.

Anyway, as with the shiny Melissa above you, I love very much that your date somehow decided to "match" you by wearing a color entirely different from yours. "Gold" is not "silver." Not even in high school. Not even to Icarus.


20. a2 + b2 = c2

Sara has a lot to say about this very special prom look, and I think the least we can do is let her explain any of this: ...[this photo] was taken in my mom's kitchen, but I can't find my pic with the lucky dude. Also, we had proms in junior high so this is from 7th grade (around 1991 I think) as you can tell by my lack of boobs (ha! I thought I was fat then). We had these faux sororities/debutant clubs...I think it shows some pretty '90s awesome - baby pink, silver lace, sheer gloves, big puffy sleeves, matching Claire's accessories. Plus the big purple glasses. I wish you could see my dyed-to-match shoes.

There are many things that make this photo special. The shine, the bows, the lace, the gloves (good lord, the gloves). But I think for me it's the action above the neck that I love the most. The pouffy hair fashioned into a 'do that makes the whole head look like a giant triangle, made all the more pronounced by giant (purple, you say?) glasses...that's just perfect. In fact, it kind of makes the triangularity of the whole look more pronounced. Like um...
Like so.


In the category of: NOTHING ABOUT THIS MAKES SENSE

21. Anything Except Print In Color

Okay, so here is what Gina told me: the girl in the picture [bottom right] isn't me, it's my next door neighbor. The year I graduated (1997) I was first on the waiting list (!!!) to borrow this dress, and wear it I did - belee'dat. Unfortunately, every single picture of me wearing the dress was ruined when my mom's house flooded years ago. I scanned this from my friend's yearbook since I felt it was too splendid a frock to be left out of this contest, seeing as THE WHOLE DAMN TOP OF IT LOOKS LIKE A COFFEE TABLE DOILY. In case you're wondering, the rest of it was eggplant-colored and made of crushed velvet.

And so while I do believe that Gina's wait-listed grandmother's tablecloth dress embodies everything this contest about, that barely warrants a mention among this AMAZING YEARBOOK SPREAD. Perhaps it's because it's from Canada(?), but I don't understand a single thing about it.

Why four pictures? Why THESE four? Why "We Can Do Anything"? What does that even mean, and what does that have to do with sitting in front of a fake moon? Why are three of the women wearing dresses inspired by table settings? Why does the couple in the lower left look like they're from a different decade entirely? Why does the man in the top right look old enough to be everyone's father? (Everyone's very ANGRY father, I might add.)

I am guessing this is meant to be inspirational, but let's be honest. This is an inspire FAIL.

Unless WE CAN DO ANYTHING is referring to the people who put the yearbook together.


In the Category of: WE GOT BETTER WITH AGE

22. Lady

Laurie is one of my favorite people in the blogosphere. She's one of those people who is a writer first, which is all too rare around these parts. She's also just sweet and funny and super smart AND super cute.

When she sent me this photo, the subject line said "Prom p0Rn" and her entire message read: He wore Stryper t-shirts and big old high tops most of the time. Fabulous.

And yes, it truly is fabulous. Nothing says Stryper fan like a girlfriend in a black lace overlay prom dress. With glasses. And curlicue bangs. To Hell With The Devil indeed.


For those of us still playing along in the subcategory of Tackiest Prom Backdrop, I submit this photo for consideration. This isn't just tacky -- although did the photographer want everyone to think you went to prom in the sky? -- it's kind of ghetto. Where are the stars? The flowers? The wedding themed accouterments? The Mardi Gras masks? There's no glowing red starched paper. There isn't even a goddamned balloon. Just you, the purple carpet, and the sky.

Oh, and a plant. Because nothing says "congratulations for graduating high school" like a plant shoved into the corner.


23. Prom on the Dairy Farm

Julie writes: Here is my prom photo, from 1987. I think the best descriptor would be "Poodle Cinderella." Or maybe "Bo Peep with a Perm." ...my date is Brian. Brian and I are still friends even though I made the poor guy wear a pink cummerbund. I posted the photo a while back on my blog here - all about my hair over the years.

Note that the white gloves look slightly less ridiculous when your date is in white.

Um, Julie? This is outstanding. I don't know what words could possibly make this more outstanding. I can't even identify what makes this so great. The hair on both of you? The slight flare in your date's pant legs? The pink? The white? The pink and white? The tans? The hair bow? The garden growing out of your left breast?


24. Like Something Off The Set Of "The Magic Garden"

Darling, long-time IIF Carolyn writes: Here I am in my my plain white polyester gown that I felt so HAWT in. I can't believe I went somewhere without a bra, ever. But back then, gravity hadn't been such a bitch to me yet. ;o) Year is 1978 - Copiah Academy in Gallman, Miss. The fellow is my then-boyfriend, Travis Lindenmuth, and it was his senior prom; I was a junior.

If you can be objective, Carolyn and Travis are a fine-looking couple. But it's really tough to be objective about 1978, what with its gifts of the curling iron and Aquanet, flowy-sheathy dresses, and bralessness.

Obviously, the swing is the best part of this photo. I don't know what Travis is angry about -- his unfortunate middle-part, perhaps? -- but he looks to be taking it out via death grip on the swing's rope.

Tackiest Backdrop might just have a winner here.


25. The Punch Was Actually Kool-Aid

Jennifer writes: This is in 1975, OH MY GOD, check out my date's HAIR. And he was in a brown tux with a ruffly shirt! Ahhh, memories. My dress is a homemade number, nothing sequiny, just *puffy.*

I had trouble categorizing this one. Obviously, Jennifer's dress (and presumably Jennifer herself) did get better with age, seeing as we have photographic evidence of that fact. But I would have otherwise put this in the Going to the Chapel category because it is very, very wedding-y. In fact, the more I look at this image, the more it looks like a sweet and innocent young Jennifer is about to be married off to a cult leader.

I hope wherever Mr. Cult Leader is now, he's got a photo of him from this era on display.

For further reference:
Jennifer adds: On the right is the same dress, altered to become a Halloween costume nearly 30 years later. I chopped the sleeves and neckline, added pink lace, a couple pillows at the hip, and some material left over from some old curtains, and voila... Marie Antoinette, complete with a guillotine slash on the neck and a piece of cake on a plate.

Let this be a lesson to you, ladies. It may take 30 years, but you will find a way to repurpose even the most embarrassing dresses in your closet.


In the category of: AND SOME SIMPLY COULDN'T GET ANY BETTER


26. Howling At The Moon

Amanda, God bless her, writes: Well, after receiving two emails this a.m. enjoining me to enter your contest, I'm succumbing to peer pressure (so 1989 of me).

This was my senior year prom, and year two of mullet-dress look (short in front, long in back.) Although as you can see, this number certainly had some party going on in the front too.

In judging my photo(s), I hope folks consider how the silhouette of my hair complemented the fanning silhouette of my dress, the entire context of the photo(s) -- Camaro, white van, Payless shoes, date's knock-off Ray Bans...


...mom's boyfriend's trucker hat (pre-Ashton Kutcher) [ed note: !!!!!!!!!!!], the Lee Press On Nails perfectly matching that pink and that devil-may-care look on my face. ( I knew my date had a fake ID). If you do decide to only use one, and use the one of me seated, please make sure folks know that's not my date.

The moment this email arrived in my inbox, I thanked the heavens for Al Gore. Because if he hadn't been born, he couldn't have invented the internet, without which I -- nay, all of us -- would have missed the opportunity to feast upon this glorious work of beauty.

Amanda. These photos could only be improved if they were set against a canvas of black velvet. And maybe not even then. This is...this is stupendous. It's basically the prom equivalent of the three wolves t-shirt.

And that is saying something.



27. I Hear Jersey Shore Needs A Sixth?

Kris, aka TheWino, aka the woman I introduced myself to at my first BlogHer Conference when I realized that she'd brought the three giant glasses of wine back from the bar all for herself, writes: I'm pretty sure both the dress and the face I'm making defy explanation. It was Jersey in 1991. Enough said.

When I received this email and LOLed all over the place, I immediately turned to Ish and said, "You need to see the prom picture of Kris, it's awesome!" So he did, but his reaction wasn't what I was expecting.

"It's not a very good picture," he said.

"What are you talking about? IT'S INCREDIBLE!"

"Well, it's funny, but there's all that white stuff in the way. Is that a table?"

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

And that, my dearest invisible internet friends, is the prom-dress round-up. These photos absolutely tickle me; I hope you've delighted in their glory as well.

But which is your favorite?

Labels: , , ,

  59 comments   permalink here
  send to a friend add to kirtsy
  email Kristy   add to del.icio.us
The Neglect-O-Bounce (Plus A Weight-Loss Update)
Thursday, February 04, 2010
I'm sick.

I'm not a lot sick, but I have a cold and so does Eve, and I'm not sure who gave it to whom, and all this is to say OH GOODIE! Because now I can cross "using a bulb syringe to suck snot out of my baby's head" off my list of Awesome Things I Get To Do As A New Mom. (Other highlights of the list include wiping puke out of my cleavage and using a rectal thermometer to stimulate a poo.) I declared on Twitter that I believe this makes me my daughter's official Booger Concierge.

In case you're wondering? "Booger Concierge" is not in the index of What to Expect The First Year. This is why all parenting books are bullshit and I am going to have to write my own. (Sure, it will be brief, because I don't actually know anything, but I'm pretty sure a chapter called "Booger Concierge" practically writes itself.)

This morning I had to wake myself up out of a Nyquil-induced semi-coma, and it was no easy feat. I thought I was doing fine -- Ish had gone to work and Eve was bouncing madly in her jumperoo while Baby Einstein was tinkling on the TV. I was "supervising" and reading email and drinking coffee, trying to jump-start my brain. But, well. I guess I should blame it on my cold as opposed to my HORRIBLE PARENTING SKILLS, but one second Eve was happily bobbing along, and the next second I look up and find this:


Oops.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

LOSING WEIGHT IS A BITCH.

There. That's how I want to start this entry. Because you know what? Things are going fine. I don't feel starved, I haven't modified my diet so much that I hate everyone and everything and feel hungry all the time and can't wait for the "diet" part to be over (since, if I do this right, it will never actually be "over" just modified here and there to be an ongoing situation). But so the good news is that I'm sticking to this weird hybrid diet thing I have going on...

...but God. It's slow. SLOW. I know this is how it is. Especially when I'm NOT starving myself and NOT working out every day and all that. But man.

So here's how things are:

Background
I started January 3. I kicked off this dietwhateverthing by basically cutting out carbs for two weeks. I guess you could consider it Atkins, but it's also Phase I of the South Beach Diet. (Though South Beach worries itself with how lean your proteins are and what percentage of skim your dairy is, and Atkins doesn't. Turns out, neither do I!) Also cutting out alcohol for the most part.

After two weeks, I was not feeling like I'd done enough (especially with a couple off-wagon meals), so I decided to continue for two more weeks.

And here we are.

After four weeks, I have lost 8 pounds.


Good News - Bad News
8 pounds is nothing to sneeze at and I'm not disappointed. 2 pounds a week is perfectly acceptable. HOWEVER, I'm a bit scared that it won't maintain this pace. Usually my first few weeks see more dramatic results, then they slow down. So I really hope that doesn't happen now. I had also kind of hoped that I'd drop 10 pounds in the first month, because that would be a nice, round number. Eh.


What I'm Eating Now
So here is my plan. If we have to call it something, I'm basically doing a modified South Beach Diet (Phase II). Mostly I'm just cutting out sugar, and the easiest way for me to monitor that is to watch my carb intake. I am also trying to eat entirely whole foods, too, but -- and this may come as a surprise to you -- I mostly already was. I am not a processed foods glutton by any means.

But I'm not counting anything. I'm not counting calories and I'm not really counting carbs -- I'm just trying to keep 'em low.

So again, here's my "plan" such as it is:
  • I am not eating carbs unless they are whole grains or have a low glycemic index thing, and only in small portions and only once a day (if at all).

  • I'm not overly concerned with eating only lean proteins. I will eat whatever proteins I want. If I want bacon, I will have bacon. Just not, you know, every day. If I want a handful of nuts, I'm not going to count them individually and only allow myself, say, 15. That sort of thing makes me crazy.

  • I'm likewise not worrying about only consuming skim dairy. I have found that whole dairy fills me up very quickly and leaves me satisfied for a long time. A lot of the (non-SBD) low-carb recipes use a ton of cream and milk and cheese and butter, so with those, I either don't make them or I eat them in very small portions.

  • I'm experimenting a lot with almond flour. It's almost carb-less, since it's just ground almonds, and is a great base for some interesting things. I've tried fried chicken, "pizza" crust, and crackers, and the results have been pretty good. Best thing EVER? Almond flour pancakes.

  • I'm also experimenting with different sweeteners. I use Splenda, but it kind of scares me and I don't want to consume too much of it. I have two different Stevia products I haven't tried yet. And then there's agave nectar. The jury seems to be out on whether agave is any better for us than sugar, so I'm not sure it's the way to go, but if I want a little natural sweetness and don't want to overload the GI, then I think a dash of agave is a good way to go.

  • I still take days/meals off here and there. This is key, I think, to saving my sanity -- having a particular date or meal in mind where I know I can eat what I want. Ideally these off-meals would take place once a month, or even once every two weeks. For now, they're event-specific. (For this reason, I am really looking forward to the Superbowl and Valentine's Day.)

  • I've cut out alcohol a lot. Red wine (in moderation) is okay on SBD, but that's because of its healthful properties, and not because it has fewer calories or less of an effect on blood sugar. So basically, I think the idea is: try not to drink at all. If you're going to drink, don't have anything that adds lots of calories (like non-diet soda or juice). After looking into it some, I actually think the best route is low-calorie beer.

  • Portion control is another big deal. I'm trying to eat more throughout the day, and avoid my usual trap of going too long between meals, then eating TONS for lunch and dinner.

And that's the exciting report. One month in, eight pounds down, one goal reached (i.e., holiday weight is gone).

This month's goal is to lose at least another eight pounds and to get into going to the gym again. My back is much better, so as soon as I beat this cold, I'm there.

Assuming that Eve won't spend the whole time demonstrating how well she's learned her new trick of Separation Anxiety. Oh, it's super-cute.

How are you guys doing?




Labels: , , ,

  26 comments   permalink here
  send to a friend add to kirtsy
  email Kristy   add to del.icio.us
Interview With Crazy Aunt Purl!
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
Reminder: You Can win a copy of Crazy Aunt Purl's book here!
Prom contest pictures coming Friday!


So as I mentioned earlier, I got to interview Laurie as part of this whole Virtual Book Tour thingy. Which is cool, but hard. Because when you've been reading someone's blog for as long as I've been reading hers, there's all these weird issues that crop up.

Like, probably I should ask questions that pertain at least somewhat to the book, right?

And also, I should not come across as a scary stalker person and ask intricate details about a random blog post Laurie wrote like, four years ago. Even if I am curious. Instead, I need to ask broader questions that will appeal to a broader (read: less stalky) audience. I think.


* * * * * * * * * *
Well, so here is what I asked her and here is what she said (and that may have just been the absolute most boringest and useless thing to ever preface an interview in the history of the world, but oh well) -- in the form of 9 (why? no idea) randomish-but-not-too-stalkery questions:


1) My first question is both a selfish and a broad one (though I suspect I'm not the only one in this boat, so maybe it won't seem quite as selfish!): HOW did you go from having all this blog material to making it into a book? I don't mean about the actual getting published part, but about how you go from, "Okay, I have eleventeen million blog entries that span all sorts of material and ages and points of view," to whittling it down into a coherent "book." I'm both curious about your process and about what kind of advice you'd give someone like me. And was the second time around easier?

I don't really have a process, especially not since I quit smoking. I didn't realize that smoking was such an integral part of writing until I sat down to write book #2 with a stick of gum. Mostly I just procrastinate until I am three days from my deadline and then I write like I am on fire, it seems to work but it's pretty stressful. I probably need a new plan.


2) What are some of the most unexpected reactions you've gotten to your book(s) from readers?

You never know if you've written anything useful until someone reads it and says, "Yes! I get that! That happened to me, too!" I think the most unexpected reactions were from men, because who would have thought guys read ladybooks? Surprise!


3) What was the best part about writing this "sequel"?

The money.

(Ed note: That's sarcasm, folks. Aunt Purl is many things, but losing sleep over what she'll be naming her yacht is not one of them. Yet.)


4) How do you get over/around/under/through that stupid inner-critic? Honestly, I go back and read some of my old posts and cringe at the very sight of them. How do you get past your fears enough to complete a full manuscript?

Being a fairly bad reporter cured me of that. Back when people used to still read newspapers, reporters had to move up the food chain job by job. You started at a podunk daily and worked your way up to a bigger market, or from lifestyle to metro. None of my newspaper clips are that good, but no one cared -- the point was to show you were able to write about tomato blight or spring plumbing trends or whatever, and get better with each assignment. There was no time to go back in the past and re-read stuff. The only thing that mattered now was tomorrow's story.

If I sat around worrying about everything I've written I'd never write anything again. So I don't go back and re-read things I wrote even a week ago. I'm not hung up on being the best or the greatest. I just like to write. What's the worst that can happen? People hate it? People hate
Shakespeare, you know?

I think what I am trying to say is that we're all so afraid to do anything because someone might not like it, we might not be great at it, we might be panned at our attempts to achieve success. But even the greatest writers in human history had critics. As long as people are alive to breathe and do, there will be people critiquing what you breathe and do. It's not a reason to hold back.



5) What's the worst thing you've ever written?
The expose on tomato blight in Polk County. Scintillating.


6) What is one skill you don't have that you wish you did. (Like, hands-on skill. I wish I knew graphic/web design, for example.) And whatever it is, do you plan to tackle this thing in the future, or is it the kind of thing you'll just accept you don't do?

I wish I could sing. Everyone says, "Oh you can sing!" and then they hear me and say, "Oh, now I see what you mean." I have no intention of becoming a better singer. I think it's a good litmus test for friendships, especially when I sing in the car.


7) Speaking of skills, you seem to be a sometimes-very-talented cook. :) If you could learn to be amazing at cooking one thing, anything in the world, what would it be?

I think it would nice to know more about spices and seasonings. I tend to cook everything with some combination of garlic, salt and pepper and lemon juice. After a while, everything I make tastes the same.


8) I don't know why I care, but I do, and rather deeply: what is your favorite ice cream flavor, and what is your favorite kind of cake?

Chocolate ice cream. Rocky road. Or chocolate with chocolate-covered stuff mixed in. As for cake, my favorite is lemon.


9) If someone you didn't know came up to you at a cocktail party and said, "Oh! I hear you've just come out with a book. What is it about?" how would you (or DO you) answer?

I describe my books as "Biographical nonfiction." It shuts down the conversation pretty quickly! I'd rather talk about something else at a party. This is L.A., everyone has a book or a screenplay, listening to people talk about their writing is conversational Valium. It's more fun to talk about TV or traffic, which everyone feels passionate about.

* * * * * * * * * * *

And there you have it! I hope the questions satisfied some of your curiosities -- they certainly did mine. And best of all, I just love how Laurie is Laurie, in any context.

Labels: , , ,

  6 comments   permalink here
  send to a friend add to kirtsy
  email Kristy   add to del.icio.us
And There It Is. I Am Old And Pa Is Hot.
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
Reminder: Win a Crazy Aunt Purl book here.
My interview with her will be posted tomorrow.
Prom contest pictures coming Friday!


I know 34 isn't actually old. I just also know it isn't exactly young, either; at least, it certainly isn't young the way this is young:



But at some point in my being at home(!) with my baby(!) while watching The Hallmark Channel(!) and not changing the channel from when the Golden Girls* episode ended to when The Little House on the Prairie(!) episode began, and I looked up to see Pa Ingalls digging or hammering or lifting or something involving him being sweaty and dirty and muscular and thought, "Whoa. He was HOT."

Now. Every time I watched episodes of Little House when I was younger, Laura was her cutesy half-pint self and I was her age. And I related to her (because all of us wanted to relate to her), even though technically I should have related to Mary because she was the oldest of three girls and so was I. But no one wanted to be like Mary, pretty though she was, not because she went blind -- although that was one of the more traumatic turning points of my childhood, to be sure -- but because Mary was boring and perfect and frankly, a stick-in-the-mud.

The point is, Pa was Pa. He was an old man. My love interests were limited to the likes of Willie (who was an asshole) and like, Almanzo who was too old for Laura and I both. But Pa? Absolutely not. Especially after he went on to be an angel on Highway to Heaven and then, well, died.

That's not the sort of thing that my age bracket of hot guys did.

Whoa!

Not only was I in love with Michael J. Fox, I was in love with Alex P. Keaton.
I'd like to say that was the last time I was infatuated with a Republican, but there was the whole issue of my high-school boyfriend (pre-Jim) and that is just another blog post and prom picture entirely.


ANYWAY. Pa. Dude.


Okay, so you don't see the sweaty, dirty, exposed pecs here, but that is because there are about 4 stock photos of Michael Landon from his Little House days and they're all proper and family-friendly and that's not at all what I'm talking about. (Even though he is giving a little sexy smirk here that only a man very secure in his sexiness could give through all that goddamned feathered hair.)

And you know? I thought about pausing my DVR on a scene where Pa is looking particularly beefyhot, but then I'd be the crazy blogger lady who is taking pictures OF HER TELEVISION for the express purpose of defending her claim that an old, dead tv actor was hot once.

(Ooo-weee! No wonder my blog brings all the boys to the yard. By which I mean two. And one of them is my cousin and the other is my husband.)

Whatever. This entry isn't a total loss, though, because I did find this in my Google image search:
One damn fine Michael Landon.

So, see?

I mean, well, what was my point? Who's old? What?






*I'm not giving you a ! there, because Golden Girls is underrated and hilarious, and that doesn't make me old, that just indicates that I have very particular taste in television.

Labels: , ,

  25 comments   permalink here
  send to a friend add to kirtsy
  email Kristy   add to del.icio.us
Home Is Where The Wine Is: A Review, Actually! And Even A Giveaway!
Monday, February 01, 2010
Leave a comment to enter to win a copy!

I realize that with a title like, "Home Is Where The Wine Is," you would be all, "Yes, Kristy, we know. With the wine." But no! Well, I mean, yes, but no!

Crazy Aunt Purl went and wrote another book and that's what it's called and that's why this is a review and giveaway and not me talking about a day of the week that ends in -day.

ALSO! Ms. Purl/Laurie/Raurie will be doing a guest-post/interview thingy here on this blog, too, I'm just not 100% sure when because probably it would help if I would send her questions instead of just saying things like, "YOU TYPE GOOD ON MY BLOG!"

(Not that I actually said that to her, but that's basically the message I've sent by my being all stammery and self-conscious about how to go about having one of my favoritest bloggers ever come for a visit.)

So, then. Let's get down to business.


Who Is Crazy Aunt Purl?
I would be very surprised if anyone who reads this blog hasn't also read Laurie's blog, seeing as she's a 30-something living in California, who's found her quirky way post-divorce. She lives with yarn and cats, and she blogs and writes and wines and is very, very funny. (She is also blond and a Cancer and not a size 4 and I'm just saying we may share some common ground.)

It should be noted, though, that unlike yours truly, Laurie is a both a good knitter and still, you know, knits. She uses the f-word far less than I do and has not, to my knowledge, ever posted a picture of her bare behind on her blog. She has described herself as a little self-helpy, but she's the ONLY PERSON whose self-helpery I read regularly and love and appreciate.

Laurie is real, and she is nice, and she is kind, and she is honest. She offers no platitudes or buzzwords or obnoxious quotes, but I have never laughed so hard while reading a blog post -- let alone being taught a lesson in humanity -- as I did when I read this post of hers about her bus catching on fire in the middle of rush-hour traffic IN LOS ANGELES.

Mostly, I just really like her, and have since I wrote about discovering her waaaaaaay back in March of '05. Because until I read her blog, it had never occurred to me that I could just write the way I talk, write the way I write emails to friends, sound conversational and not worry about posts Making A Point. (This was before everyone had a conversational blog, and the only "popular" blogs I knew about were political.)

So, Purl will always have a special place in my heart for being the first person to not only make me feel like it's totally okay to blog the real me, but to show me how it was possible.


What Is This Book She Wrote And Why Should I Read It?
Going from blog to book is a giant feat and one that impresses the bejeezus out of me for what I will say are OBVIOUS REASONS. I can't get out of my own way long enough to even know where to begin with this whole book business (and believe me, I have tried AND will be asking Ms. Crazy Aunt Purl about this very thing).

Yet not only has she done it once (see: Drunk, Divorced and Covered in Cat Hair), but she has done it twice. And well. And with purpose.

Yep, impressive.

But now I am supposed to do an actual "review" of the book, which is funny because how do you review a non-fiction helpy book? The character development was great, but the plot was a little unrealistic. How am I supposed to believe a heroine who lives in LA and doesn't know you always schedule a bikini wax before a sunless tanning appointment?

So instead, I will take a page out of Laurie's book (but not like, her BOOK book, I mean her operation manual of sorts) and give you...

Reasons Why You Should Read "Home Is Where The Wine Is" in bullet form but in no real order!

  • If you love her blog already, this is like feeding an addiction: it's more of the stuff you crave. More details, more stories, and more connective tissue. I'll admit to being super-curious about Laurie's dating life, for example, and this fills in some big holes. Big, awful, relatable holes. I also really like the structure it gives all these somewhat-random and somewhat context-free blog entries she's posted over the years. She's put it into context for us, and it's satisfying to read it in a linear, start-to-finish kind of way.


  • If you have never read her blog, good lord is this woman ever funny. I almost wish I had never read her before, so that I could enjoy her turns of phrase for the first time. (Although when you read things like, "Wall Of Bangs" -- not to mention references of boyfriends past -- you will rush to her blog to dig up pictures. Or at least, you should.) Her self-helpy message is really secondary to her bouncing from one hilarious and self-deprecating anecdote to the next.

    Also: square watermelons.


  • The "message" doesn't suck and isn't condescending -- hell, it isn't even trite! I won't tell you the number of ridiculous PR pitches I get to read and review relationship books that promise to explain how I can land a guy. Even if I weren't married, I'd still find this infuriating. Purl's is the only story, book, blog out there that I know of that doesn't just illustrate life-beyond-slash-instead-of-married-with-children, but portrays a (real) single woman in her over-35s who...

    ...isn't married and doesn't necessarily care to be

    ...doesn't define her "completeness" by her partner status

    ...is ambivalent-at-best about having kids and doesn't take some Grand Stance on the issue

    ...can redefine and reclaim "selfish" in such a way that it makes you want everyone in the world to be just like her

    ...has an actual sense of humor

    ...may or may not sleep with her 24-year-old grocer

    Among other things.


  • Knitting recipes that are cute and not only easy to follow but FUN to follow, INCLUDING a personal massager cozy. And while I realize this isn't super relevant to anything, I just want you all to know that when I first met Ish and we were brainstorming stand-up material all the time, I once came up with a bit about knitting a battery-operated cover of sorts, and he looked at me wide-eyed. NOT because he was dating a wackadoo (although sure, he was), but because he then opened his notebook from a year prior and showed me where he'd written, "crocheted vibrator cozy." And, well, here we are.
Mostly, it's a warm, enjoyable read written by a warm, enjoyable woman about living a warm, enjoyable life. As defined by her (good-) crazy self, set against wacky neighbors and bad dates and the insanity that is LA and a dysfunctional relationship with her gardener and codependentish relationship with her cats and punctuated by yarn, wine, work, and solo travel.

Personally (and I hardly EVER get sentimental, so bear with me), as with the first Purl book, having Home Is Where The Wine Is on my bookshelf is like having a friend around; I'm comforted knowing it's there, because I'm comforted knowing that Laurie's there, out there, out in the world.


How Can I Get (Or Win) A Copy Of The Book?
Of course, you can order your copy from Amazon here, for a very reasonable price of $10.17 (at the time of writing this post).

Or, simply leave a comment and be eligible to win one of the FIVE kick-ass copies Laurie's publisher is giving me to give to you (if you're in the US OR Canada! That almost never happens!). So, that's kind of awesome, too.

Contest ends/comments close on Friday, February 5.


Coming soon: My Interview with Crazy Aunt Purl.

In the meantime, you can peruse the rest of Laurie's online book tour here.




Labels: , ,

  89 comments   permalink here
  send to a friend add to kirtsy
  email Kristy   add to del.icio.us
And Flights Of Angels Sing Thee To Thy HOLY JESUS WHAT IS THAT SMELL?
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
What other blogger quotes Hamlet when discussing poo and creepy bathroom candles? What? You didn't know that's what I was talking about? Well, now you do.

Also: welcome to my blogging at 10:30 at night.

(When I was in college, I couldn't study late at night. Oh, I could cram with the best of them, just not the night before. My system shuts down and I become MI-TEE punchy. And brain-dumb. Instead, I'd set the alarm for 4 or 5 a.m. and hop out of bed and everything would make a lot more sense. My point is, I shouldn't be blogging now. You're welcome.)

So today I was just innocently and slooooowly wandering down the grocery store aisles, reveling in my child sleeping soundly in her carrier in the grocery cart, hoping that I could waste enough time at Safeway to ensure she slept for at least 30 solid minutes, since instead of napping at the gym daycare she screamed bloody murder the entire time and they had to come get me after 25 minutes of elliptical-ing because guess who's entered the age of separation anxiety?

I found myself in the household cleaner aisle, whereupon I remembered that I needed to replace our it-might-be-toxifying-the-air-but-at-least-it-smells-better-than-the-alternative candle in the downstairs bathroom.

Right? I mean, I buy fancy powerful air-freshening candles for the most frequently used bathroom in the house for the same reason that EVERYONE has an air-freshening candle (or spray or whatever) in their most frequently used bathroom in the house.

I couldn't remember what brand or flavor the last candle was, but it had lasted forever and smelled so good that one of the cleaning people -- the PREGNANT cleaning person*, in fact -- was all, "OHMYGOD what IS THAT? It smells AMAZING." And if there is one person in the world who would know a great chemically scented product when she smells it, it's a person who deals with cleaners all day long WHILE having the pregnant-lady nose of a bloodhound thing going on.

So since Safeway appeared only to have Glade candles, I perused my options. I tend to like "clean" smells, like linen or some of the lighter lavender scents. I am naturally drawn toward white candles and white jars.

Which is how I came to discover that Glade makes a candle called, "Angel Whispers."

Seriously:

And I'm sorry, but this just creeps me the fuck out.

First of all (though least of my concerns, actually), I don't think anyone can smell a whisper. That is because you can't smell sounds. Unless that sound is a burp. And that's not only totally disgusting, it's also totally impossible because angels which, oh hey, are make-believe don't so much eat. And if you're going to argue that angels do eat, because this is the internet and someone is willing to argue just about anything, you will not be able to convince me that they're eating anything so gross that they're producing burps we can smell. Let alone that we'd want to mass market.

MORE IMPORTANT, however, than the issue of not being able to smell angel whispers, is the fact that I don't want ANYTHING whispering at me while I'm on the toilet. Least of all an angel.

I literally stood there in the Safeway aisle, holding the Angel Whispers candle, finding myself getting offended at all the things an angel might whisper about me in the bathroom.

"Fear not, for I-- Holy Hell, woman! What are you DOING in here?"

And what would you tell your guests? They would come out of the bathroom looking confused and scared, and you would ask if everything was okay, and then they'd be all, "I think I heard voices. In the bathroom. Like...someone whispering at me? And they were saying things about God? Maybe? Or commenting on the size of my ass? I don't know. I think I'm going insane.

Except actually you know your guests wouldn't say that because no one in their right mind would admit to hearing angels whispering to them in a bathroom.

[Note: at this point in this blog entry, I looked up from my computer and told Ish about the "Angel Whispers" candle and he stared at me blankly and then I was like, "Well I mean, what do YOU do in the bathroom? What do you think angels would be whispering about YOU?" And then he laughed aloud as he thought of many, many, MANY disgusting and/or vulgar things the angels would whisper about his manly bits, his bodily functions, and his bodily smells.]

[I cannot do them justice so I will not try, but rest assured that my husband thinks the angels would find him impressive in MANY WAYS.

[This is also when I decided to go to bed without hitting "Publish Post".]

Now that I've read this post over in the light of day, I don't really think there's anything to do about it BUT hit "publish."

Well, but let me state for the record that my point isn't that I think buy buying a stupid candle for the bathroom would technically result in angels whispering things about me, I want to know why Glade thinks I want my bathroom to SMELL like angels are whispering things about me.









*Yes. We have cleaning people who come 2x a month. I was entirely uncomfortable about this already (remember the post where I wrote about hiding from the cleaners?) and then one of the girls got pregnant, and now I feel like a horrible human being, and whenever she arrives at my house I freak out and want her to sit down and put her feet up and offer her tea and then my circuits overload and I return to hiding.



Labels: , , ,

  18 comments   permalink here
  send to a friend add to kirtsy
  email Kristy   add to del.icio.us
At Least It's Still January, Bitches
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
After the post below (the one about how fat doesn't mean miserable, though WHERE THE HELL ARE YOUR PROM PICTURES?), I bet you're all I'M NOT GOING TO ASK HER HOW THE DIET'S GOING! And perhaps that's smart of you, my husband would attest, but it's going okay.

My "plan" was simply to go off sugar and most carbs for two weeks, including alcohol. (AHAHAHAHA!) And then figure out something for the next two weeks. After the first two weeks, I wanted to start going to the gym. Nothing major, just start going and doing...well...anything.

Here's what's actually happened.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sunday (Jan 3): good

Monday: mostly good, slight cheesecake mishap

Tuesday: good
Wednesday: good
Thursday: good

Friday: good! Get on scale and discover...practically minus 6 lbs! Think: THIS IS GOING TO BE EASY. (Because I don't learn.)

Saturday: good
Sunday: good
Monday: good
Tuesday: good

Wednesday: good...until.
Well, see, my friend PinkJaime came over! She came up to visit and some of you might recall back from when I began this blog that I worked in a crazy office and Jaime was one of my bestest friends ever there because we had a lot in common, like gin.

We used to tell this one joke -- let me know if you've heard it before -- it goes: "Hey, do you want to go out for a drink after work?" "Well, okay, but ONLY ONE."

Hilarious!

(As earlier reported, by the end of any of our our "one drink" outings the bar would be closing, Jaime would have a new boyfriend and I would have a new blog entry about the pathetic state of my dating life. Ah, memories.)

Anyway, so Jaime came to visit and we went to lunch AT A TAVERN and do you know what I ordered? Chicken, salad, and a diet coke. A DIET COKE. AT A TAVERN.

FTMFW!

But. At some point Eve went to bed and we were just hanging out and talking and Ish had joined us, and somehow, as if by magic, wine appeared and then I had some.

Turns out that my tolerance had changed in just a few days, though, because after just a few glasses of wine (WITH dinner, no less) I was all, "Ugh." And didn't drink anymore and put myself to bed and then woke up totally hungover. Which served me right.


Thursday: good
Friday: good

Saturday: It had been 14 days and we had long before invited friends over for dinner. Therefore, Saturday afternoon through dinner/dessert I took "off." I had planned for this and had no guilt about doing so. With help from Ish, we made a delicious dinner (and I even produced HOMEMADE PEPPERMINT ICE CREAM that was amazing. If I do say so myself. And I do. Because it wasn't a complete cinch to make because I have never made custard before and didn't understand that there is approximately a .015 second window between when the custard is a runny mess and when the custard is scrambled eggs. Now I know.).

Sunday: good. Decide that I have not given this low/no carb transition the full attention it deserves, and agree (to myself) to continue it for two more weeks.

Monday: good, except that my back pain (which has been sore since a week before Christmas) has become totally unmanageable. I go to the doctor and discover two things.

One: the problem is simply muscular, and will work itself out. But I won't be going to the gym this week.

Two: my weight at doctor is notably different from my scale, and suggests I have only lost 2 pounds. I cannot fathom how two nights of bad behavior can sabotage such progress, so I decide that between our two scales, plus the difference of water weight, plus going to the doctor RIGHT after lunch means I should ignore the random weigh-in altogether.

That night, I discover it is actually possible for me to consume a single glass of wine. Hurrah!


Tuesday: good...until Ish and I decided to celebrate our (one-year) anniversary with a little champagne. Which led to a little wine. Which led to a little dessert. Fail. (Slight win? No more peppermint ice cream in the house.)

Wednesday: good
Thursday: good
Friday: good

Saturday: We went out to our anniversary dinner, which was actually lunch since we haven't found a babysitter in Napa yet and Eve is no longer comfortable falling asleep in her carrier when it's past her bedtime. (Which means Ish and I haven't been out for dinner in months.) WHEEEEE.

The rest of Saturday was not particularly "good," either, but at least it was fun.

("Fun" = bourbon + Twitter)

Sunday: good. Also marked the beginning of week 4 and -- oh joy of joys -- my special time of the month. Not only does this mean fun things for my back-muscle pain, but I'll also be experiencing a special kind of bloat and weight fluctuation and hooboy, I'm not going anywhere near a scale until it's over.

Monday: good.

Tuesday: good.
* * * * * * * *

My next weigh-in will be at the end of this week. I was kind of hoping to be down 10 pounds after one month, but I'm not sure how much I should alter that hope given my three half-days off and total lack of gym-going. I guess "at least down 6" should be reasonable given that's what my scale told me I had accomplished less than a week in.

Whatever it is, I won't lie to you.


By the way, a few of my in-real-life friends have jumped on the weight-loss, get-in-shape wagon and are blogging their progress. (A couple others of you are doing similar things but NOT publicly, which I get.)

I highly recommend you check out:

The Pie Stops Here, by Jane Dough
Jane had never had any issues with her weight until she turned 45; she bravely includes pictures and is straight about what she eats and how much she's exercising.

She also has some really interesting points of view about clothes-shopping, since she's someone who had always been "normal-sized" and only recently had to learn to forage in the "plus-sized" fashion world. She had no idea how much IT SUCKS, and she's not taking it quietly.


* * * * * * * * * *
So tell me. How is YOUR progress?

Labels: , ,

  14 comments   permalink here
  send to a friend add to kirtsy
  email Kristy   add to del.icio.us
When Was The Last Time You Blogged About Your Armpits?
Monday, January 25, 2010
Have you ever thrown out your favorite razor because even though you can just buy replacement blades you realize you have been using the same handle for so long that you can't remember how long but are sure that if you did you'd be totally grossed out because things shouldn't ever live in a shower that long? And then you forget and get into a nice, hot, relaxing shower and are completely wet and soaped up and conditioner-ed before you realize CRAP, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BUY A NEW RAZOR and then wondered what the hell you were going to do and maybe even envisioned running out of the shower to get your husband's electric razor? But then you thought about how you'd just drip all over the place and get cold (and you remember the last time you tried to shave your legs when you had goosebumps and how you still maybe have scars) and not only that, but you have actually no idea where your husband even keeps his electric razor OR how it works and if it's safe to use in the shower? And then you think about what it would look like if you just thought it was safe to use in the shower but then you electrocuted yourself? And you were found dead in that position? Like, hunched over and wet and only a quarter shaven? And then that becomes such a plausible scenario in your head that you start to fear other ways you might accidentally keel over in the shower? Because this isn't the first time you've had shower issues? Or even the second? Nor is it the first time you've almost keeled over in a bathroom? That wasn't even yours? And then you look down and remember why you were thinking about this all in the first place and figure "You know what? A little shampoo under the arms isn't gonna hurt anything"?

Oh. Me, neither.


Labels: , , , ,

  10 comments   permalink here
  send to a friend add to kirtsy
  email Kristy   add to del.icio.us
All About Eve: Months Four, Five & Six
These posts are as much for me as anyone. I'm not otherwise keeping a record of Eve's growth and changes, so feel free to skip on over these.

When I try to remember details from these last three months (and actually, the last six) it's hard -- everyone said it would go by in a flash, and I guess that's true. Certainly everything is a big blur. But the days don't go by that fast, really. Not individually. My days aren't filled with 400 million thousand things that I'm racing to get done, where I blink and the whole day is over and in six hours I'll be back where I started. That's what work was like, when it was busy. This current, stay-at-home-with-the-baby life is not like that at all.

It's slow. It's not bad, it's many wonderful things. But it's slow, and it gets lonely. Days are filled with baby, and trying to do things with baby that are interesting for us both. Some days are more interesting than others.

* * * * * *
Eve was small for her age. Not unhealthy small, just small. She was in the 10th percentile for height/weight/head size at her 4-month check-up. And then sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas, she transformed into an entirely different baby. She went from being a small, fragile-looking infant to looking like A Baby. It happened almost overnight, and I'm not exaggerating at all. One day, she just couldn't fit into any of her old standbys.

I ordered a jumper thing for her. It's called the Jumperoo (I only mention it because every time we put her in it, Ish and I launch into singing Jump Around by House of Pain, a la "jump a-roo, jump a-roo, jump up jump up and___ ___." That last word changes a lot. Sometimes it's "make poo" but sometimes it's just "doo doo" because we're too lazy to make up different words.) Well, and I suppose I should mention it because she LOVES it. Unlike her chair-bouncer or swing, which took getting used to and which she never really enjoyed the way I've heard most babies do.

Anyway. When we got the bouncer, her feet came nowhere near touching the floor. I had to stack two thick coffee table books under her to allow her to be able to jump at all. Then five days later, she didn't need one of the books. Two weeks after that, she didn't need either of them.

Honestly, it's like she just decided she was done being tiny. Her thighs look like someone inflated them. I remember one Christmas maaaaaany years ago, when my mom bought my CuzNate this hilarious apparatus based on The Incredible Hulk. You put these modified water wings around your body, and when you were ready to be MAD, you inflated the muscles and they expanded. (Uh, unless you were amazingly fast and gifted at blowing stuff up, however, the muscles did not exactly inflate so fast that anyone would be scared or that any shirts would be ripped.) And now that she's been inflated, she's moved into the 25% for her age.

Sadly, her hair has fallen. She's no longer the rooster she once was. She's still got plenty of hair, it's just that her fauxhawk flap has collapsed, and the new hair that's growing in around it isn't quite as wild as the first growth. Yet, anyway.

* * * * * *

There have been so many changes since Eve was @ 3 months.

She'd been sleeping in her bassinet next to the bed. Once she started waking up only once in the middle of the night, we decided she was big enough to be moved to her crib in her room. We thought it might take a while to transition her, but, well, it took none. The first night we put her down to sleep in her crib, she didn't even seem to notice the difference.

At her 4-month mark, she was still breastfeeding fairly regularly, though I was supplementing with formula regularly as well. We were in a great groove for a few weeks, where I would breastfeed her at night to fall asleep, in the middle of the night when she woke up, then first thing in the morning. She'd take a bottle during the days, except I'd breastfeed her to get her to nap.

But by 5 months, she had grown less and less happy with the boob and would only take it in the mornings and for naps. Then just for naps. Then not at all. So, that's how I stopped breastfeeding. Eve just stopped wanting to.

[By the way, I wrote this in my 1-3 month summary: "every time she nurses from my right breast, she takes her right arm and puts it over her head, and grabs a tuft of her hair in her tight little fist. I wonder if she'll keep doing this, or a variation of this, as she grows. I kind of hope so." For what it's worth, she does still do this when she's tired and taking a bottle.]

* * * * * * *
I read that by six months, babies tend to have more of a schedule, and that's certainly been true for us.

Sometime shortly after my last update, I realized that my least favorite part of the day was the evening. Eve was a miserable baby after about 5:30 p.m. and would fuss and be cranky straight until we went to bed around 9.

After several weeks of this, it occurred to me that um, you know what? Maybe her bedtime isn't 9 p.m. anymore. Maybe it's when she starts to get tired!

Oh, first-time moms.

And that's how it remains. Eve goes to sleep around 6ish, and if we're lucky will sleep through the night. Sometimes she'll wake around midnight because she's hungry -- this happens about 50% of the time. Otherwise, she sleeps until around 5 or 6, when we bring her into bed with us, and either she'll insist on getting up, or fall asleep for a little while longer.

She still only naps in 30 minute increments, about three times a day.

* * * * * * *

Right around Christmas, we started her on solid foods. We'd tried a couple times before this, but the attempts were somewhat disastrous, and Ish said it looked like we were trying to paper-mache her.

She's getting better, and in no time I'm sure she'll be gobbling all kinds of things up. I was really excited to read that new studies show you don't have to be quite so fastidious about introducing foods slowly, and that babies are capable (and willing) to eat lots of different things -- they don't have to be bland and uninteresting. I think this is awesome, and can't wait to start making fun stuff for us all.

For now, she would be happy to eat pears for every meal. Here is a minute-long video of what we considered a "successful" pear-feeding. (Narrated for family; didn't know I'd post it on the blog.)


* * * * * * * *

Eve is a good baby. I've said before, I don't have anything to compare her to really, but by all accounts, she's been very easy. Her temperament never changed. She didn't suddenly become difficult. She's still a good night-sleeper. She still goes with the flow. She doesn't nap well, but she'll take her 30-minute naps anywhere we put her down.

We were petrified to fly with her across the country for Christmas, but she was an angel. She never cried, she just sat and stared and ate and slept. Like she does every other day. I have no idea why this is.

She's still very alert, very interested in what's going on around her. We can't take her out in her carseat/carrier for too long, or we run the risk of her getting frustrated by not being able to see what's happening.

We finally bought a portable high chair that attaches to the table, so when we take her out for a meal, she can be part of the action (instead of being tucked into her carrier).
We love it so much we don't really see a need to get a traditional high chair.

She still can't sit unassisted, and no, she's not crawling yet, but ohmygod is she ever a babbling fool. She yammers and yells and howls and sings and coos and laughs on and off all day long.


When she wakes up in the morning, she doesn't cry, she babbles. If we don't come get her, eventually she'll whine. But no hysterics. Not ever.

She's pretty much all smiles.






Labels:

  15 comments   permalink here
  send to a friend add to kirtsy
  email Kristy   add to del.icio.us
Prom Picture Contest! Win $25 Just For Entering
Saturday, January 23, 2010
You guys.

I have a handful of entries for The Awesomest Prom Dress EVER! Contest so far, but I've decided that too many of you are holding back just because your own dresses weren't "that bad."

So I am offering a SECOND prize of $25 Gift Card to a random entrant who simply sends me a photo of a prom picture.

To reiterate: Send me your prom pictures. One "winner" will be chosen by judging and get a $50 gift card. One "winner" will be chosen at random to receive a $25 gift card.

Good luck! Here are the details for the overall contest!

Labels: , ,

  8 comments   permalink here
  send to a friend add to kirtsy
  email Kristy   add to del.icio.us
All About Moi
Here's my story. It's scintillating.
Kristy

Stats, Counters and Links

WHO LINKS HERE

Top Personal blogs

Listed on BlogShares