I must share with you my re-creation of the Whole Foods turkey & brie panini. I made it for lunch today and it was gooooooooooooooood. And easy. Behold:

2 slices bread of choice, WF uses thick focaccia but I used hi-fiber whole wheat (it's what I had on hand)
a few thick slices of brie (cut off the rind, duh)
raspberry or fig preserves (I used Smuckers all-fruit raspberry)
a few slices of turkey breast (from the deli, not that pre-packaged crap, sorry Oscar Meyer! I used sun-dried tomato turkey breast, yum)
a handful of mixed greens
butter (I like Smart Balance Light with flax oil... it's spreadable and really tasty and good for you)

Well, this is pretty self-explanatory, but whatev:

Heat a nonstick skillet on medium-high heat. Spread one side of both slices of bread with butter. Spread the other side of one slice with preserves. Put that slice of bread butter-side-down in the skillet. Layer with turkey, brie, and mixed greens. Place the other slice of bread on top, butter-side-up. Cook a few minutes and then flip, until bread has reached your desired shade of golden brown. Transport to a serving plate, cut in half*, and enjoy. Muah!

*It is important to cut the sandwich in half, because you get to see all the gooey brie melt down the sides of the bread and the layers look pretty. Pretty layers! Yay!




Today my coworker and good friend, the only other female that I work with, asked if my boobs had gotten bigger. Yup, I replied, along with everything else on my body. I've gained a few pounds. She asked if I was going to end up freaking out like the last time I had decided to give up dieting, and I said that nope, this was it. If being a size 10 means getting to have a grilled cheese sandwich with specialty cheese and real butter for dinner, along with a glass of wine (or three), then it's totally worth it. I told her I couldn't go back. It's not that I just don't WANT to go back; I am simply physically incapable of dieting ever again. I have used up all my dieting willpower in this lifetime. I've eaten more than my fair share of cottage cheese and whey protein powder, pushed myself through excruciating and unenjoyable cardio sessions and just said NO to my favorite foods fifteen too many times. I AM DONE. I'm quite surprised, actually. Usually by this point, at the point where my pants are tight and I think the world is about to end because I've gone up a size, I decide that dieting is the ONLY way to live and I proceed to plan out my next one. Not this time. I think the difference between all those other times and this one is that this time I am truly, truly allowing myself to have whatever the hell I want when I am hungry. Before it was more like well, ok, have some cookies, but no ice cream! Think of the fat and the calories! You'll be a whale by dinnertime! Non-dieting only works when you give yourself full permission to eat whatever your heart desires. This is a struggle every single day, as I am armed (cursed?) with an internal calorie and nutrition calculator that automatically recites the macro nutrient percentages for any given food. What do you expect after nearly 20 years of dieting? It's hard to silence that voice but I'm doing my best. If I eat a salad when I really want a slice of pizza, chances are that I will eat the salad and then eventually have the pizza, too. What if I had just started with the freaking pizza? I would have probably been totally satisfied from the beginning and moved on with my day, with my life. Gone are the days when I putter around the kitchen looking for something more, because I didn't really give myself what I wanted from the start. This is not easy, it's honestly taking some real effort. I'm also constantly having to separate self-worth from clothing size and weight, which is totally INSANE, but I've been living this way for ages, so it's no surprise. Thinking that my career/love life/friendships will be THAT MUCH BETTER when I'm 10 pounds lighter/2 sizes smaller is fucking nuts. When did this start? HOW CAN I FUCKING SAVE A FUTURE GENERATION OF WOMEN FROM WASTING A QUARTER OF THEIR LIFE OBSESSING ABOUT THE SIZE OF THEIR ASS? I just don't know. Is it something that every woman must come to terms with/deal with on her own? Maybe. Because I don't think I would have listened to anyone but that sad little voice in my head before now. It took almost 20 years to get it together, and I STILL don't completely have it together... but I AM getting there. Slowly but surely. And I'm enjoying the journey. Anyway, I'm tickled pink that she commented on my boobs. Oh lucious, glorious boobies-o-mine! Where have you been all this time? If it's grilled cheese sandwiches you crave and full-fat dressing, your wish is my command! Pull up a chair and get comfy, because you're here to stay, AT LAST. If you were any bigger I would kiss you. Muah! MUAH! (I SMELL CRAZY!)

(It smells good.) (Like flowers.) (And grilled gouda on whole wheat.)

(With butta.)


We went to Texas last weekend and we lost our dog. He escaped from my mom's back yard the first night we were there. I really can't believe it. As much as I complain about that little fucker he was a part of the family. It's so weird to be home without him. There isn't anyone for Ethan to feed crackers to... there isn't someone waiting at the foot of E's highchair ready to snarf down all the crumbs that fall... no one scratching at the door to let them in... it's so strange. I like to pretend that Bogart has met the chihuahua love of his life and is living out his doggie dreams, but the harsh reality is that he is probably dead on the side of the road, or lost and cold and scared out of his mind. We should have taken better care of him. I wish I would have shown him more love. I wish I would have made time for him each day the same way I make time to work out or do puzzles and color with Ethan. Now he's gone and there is nothing I can do. Shame on me, shame on us. He was a great little dog and I miss him in the worst of ways. It's especially hard when Ethan hollers Bogart, oh Bogart, where are you? Fuck. If you see a fat, flea-infested tan chihuahua prancing down the street, tell him to come home asap. Thanks.


Today I went shopping for jeans. After an hour and fifteen minutes I found THE PERFECT pair: a stretchy, washed denim from The Gap, slightly flared at the ankle and fitted through the hip and thigh... PERFECT. I am not lying when I tell you that the skies above opened and a light broke through the clouds, angels rejoiced and I was one with the universe. This perfect pair of jeans? A size 10. How do I feel about that? Fucking fantastic. Have you seen my ass in these jeans? Pass me that grilled cheese, please. And a glass of Merlot. I feel fine. Cheers! (But please don't spill your wine on my new jeans.)



I'm in my second week of non-dieting and here are a few things I have noticed:

  • my pants are tighter and while this is uncomfortable, I'm ok with it. I rationalize that this is the result of, oh my, eating carbs again. I'm sure I've gained a few pounds but I'm avoiding the scale and my stress level is actually at an all-time low. I knew that dieting stressed me out, but I had no idea how much. A certain sense of urgency is gone because I am no longer revolving my life and everything that I do around meal timing and planning and food combining. I'm not a slave to any of it anymore.

  • the feeling of hunger made me panic at first. Now I'm excited to get hungry because it means that I get to choose whatever I want to eat... and the possibilities are endless! This can be a little overwhelming and scary, though. After YEARS of being told what and when to eat, sometimes I feel lost in a sea of choice and I get cranky if I get too hungry. I'm learning to go with the flow and am trying my best to tune in to what my body really wants and what will satisfy me at that moment. It really does change from day to day and hour to hour. I'm finding the balance between being practical (i.e. bringing snacks to work in anticipation of hunger) but not feeling as though I HAVE to eat any specific thing at any specific time. I get hungry pretty regularly, but I'm trying hard not to eat by the clock (as I have been doing for YEARS) and am doing my best to let my hunger be my guide.

  • I jiggle a bit more when I'm doing my cardio (which sucks, I cannot lie) but I have more energy than ever to workout, and now it's about health and FEELING good instead of losing weight. Because I'm no longer trying to lose weight, I had to shift my focus in that respect. It's hard to workout when there isn't some immediate goal or instant gratification (smaller clothes, feeling "skinny"), but I feel ten times better when I workout from an energy standpoint and I'm able to lift more/jump higher when I'm running on all 8 (well-fed) cylinders.

  • it's tough to silence my inner nutrition Nazi... if I want a bowl of cereal with soy milk for breakfast, the first thing that pops into my head is oh, all those carbs! where's the protein? you're going to get sooooooooo fat! but then I tell that voice to suck it, pour a bowl and enjoy my meal. I'm paying very close attention to how different foods make me feel and I can already tell that eventually this will begin to guide my decisions on what to eat. Yes, an afternoon donut might seem like a tasty snack but it's not really worth it if you're in a carb coma thirty minutes later and hungry yet again.

  • I do not function or feel well on a carb-only meal. I need protein.

  • Geneen Roth's Breaking Free From Compulsive Eating is what I'm currently reading. I've read it before but I was nowhere near ready to actually "break free" until now. Overcoming Overeating is next on my list. I didn't think that Breaking Free would really apply to me, but thirty pages in and I swear she wrote the book just for me.

  • Eating what you want is scary after years of dieting. Sometimes I feel lost. Sometimes I miss the convenience of knowing what and when I'll eat. A few times this past week I thought fuck this, I'm going back to dieting but I know what will happen if I do. I'll start out strong and after about 2 days you'd find me holding an ice cream truck hostage. I can't go back, and I won't.

  • Surprisingly, most of the time I don't want to eat crap. For dinner I had a big salad with spinach, red pepper, tomato, a little cheddar cheese, some fajita-seasoned chicken that I cooked over the weekend, some organic jalapeno-laced refried black beans and light ranch dressing. It was absolutely delicious. I crave mostly healthy foods and spreading unmeasured almond butter on a whole wheat english muffin in the morning is most liberating. Having some cream in my coffee is heaven. Knowing that if I get hungry I can eat is the very best feeling. It's true: when you know you can have whatever you want whenever you are hungry, you don't need to eat it all now. It's a very strange feeling to eat something most would deem "bad" (ice cream, cookies, pie) and not feel an ounce of guilt, and to know that I don't have to starve myself the next meal or the next day. It's a very strange and wonderful feeling indeed.

  • I'm starting to look to kitchen goddesses like Rachael Ray (don't laugh, hear me out, I know she's as annoying as a mosquito flying around your ear when you're trying to sleep) and Nigella Lawson (who is just plain delicious, yum) for inspiration. Real, curvy women who love life and good food. For lunch today I had a panini from Whole Foods: turkey, brie, mixed greens and fig chutney on focaccia bread. Divine. For the last several months I have eaten my bland mini-meals dreaming of the next one, counting down the minutes until I "get to" have another helping of cottage cheese and carrot sticks or a scoop of whey protein mixed with water (talk about gourmet!). You're damn skippy that after that panini today I didn't think about food much until I was actually hungry again. It's nice to think about things other than food. I knew I was preoccupied with food before, but I never really realized how much until now. With all the energy and brain power I put into meal planning and calorie counting throughout the years I swear I could have developed a cure for cancer or cloned my dog using some twine and a cheap lighter. What a waste.

  • Non-dieting, to me anyway, does not mean eat whatever you want whenever you want it... it means eat whatever you want when you are hungry. I have overeaten a few times since swearing off dieting, but that's to be expected from time to time. I'm confident that soon I'll recognize my perfect fullness/satisfaction point and stop eating accordingly. For the first time in my life I am able to wrap up food I can't finish and save it for later... I'm no longer a member of the clean-your-plate club.

  • I have a little money set aside for a well-deserved shopping spree. I vow to only buy clothes that look good, fit well and make me feel like a million bucks. No sulking over the size, no poking and prodding at my ample thighs... confidence, baby, that's where it's at. I am no longer going to put off shopping until I lose ten pounds, or whatever. I'd rather look hot in a size 8 or 10 or even a 12 (!!!) and be able to eat dessert than look miserable and ho-hum at a size 6 or 4 while I resent everyone around me for eating fucking dessert. My gawd, why couldn't I have come to my senses over this ages ago? It's my mission to change the world and the way women live their lives. Not everyone is as batshit crazy as I am, but I'm sure I'm not the only fruitloop in the box, am I right? Ladies? Put some full-fat ranch on your salad. Have that slice of cheesecake. Then go for a walk and kiss your loved ones and dance around your house in your underwear. Life is good.

  • This is going to be a long process but I can already tell that it's going to be SO FREAKING WORTH IT. I don't want to be skinny. I just want to be happy. Happy and healthy. My smile is already a million times wider and brighter than before. My mood is much more pleasant. I like myself better when I'm not dieting. I suspect everyone else does, too. Who knew that you could love life and have cellulite?



Reflections? Come on, right? Really, though. I'm not kidding. Guess what I realized this week? Guess what finally occured to me? That just because I've acted a certain way all of my life, for as long as I can remember, does NOT mean that I have to be that way forever. No shit! Who knew?

I don't really know where to start. I think I need a little bit more time. The thing is, I sometimes talk about having suffered from an eating disorder years ago. That's true. It was bad. But the truth? The hard, cold truth? Is that I've suffered from an eating disorder ALL my life. There was a brief period in middle school when I think my relationship with food and my body were fairly decent, on speaking terms anyway, but that didn't last very long. All of my life I have either eaten too much to numb out, eaten too little to feel in control, binged when I felt out of control, counted calories to distract myself from my real problems... and I no longer count cellulite or my post-baby pooch as a real problem. Not anymore. This is something new, something very unfamiliar to me. It's scary. But I SIMPLY.DO NOT.HAVE IT IN ME.TO DIET.ONE.MORE.SECOND.OF.THIS.LIFE.

Too all my peeps: would you still love me if I were 5 pounds heavier? 10? 20 pounds heavier? How about 10 pounds lighter. Anyone who matters will answer yes, yes, yes, yes! Of course you silly wench! THAT IS WHAT WE HAVE BEEN TRYING TO TELL YOU ALL ALONG!


Dieting has been my hobby for nearly 20 years. I'm only 27. How very, very sad. So much time wasted. So much energy spent planning my next diet or planning my next "challenge". Telling myself that I'll take that class/decorate the house/get a raise/be a better mom/be HAPPY when I'm 5, 10, 15 pounds lighter, like LIVING doesn't really start until I'm a size 6 or less.

The cycle as of late has been: diet. Binge. diet. Binge more. diet (gagging down my egg white omelet at this point). Binge until I pass out in a literal carb coma. The red flag? The binging. I'm telling you, when I binge I am not in control. Nothing can stop me. Something is not right when I feel free only while shoveling cheese puffs into my mouth at the speed of light, behind my own back. Something is wrong when I am on my fourth bowl of cereal and I don't even taste it because I'm thinking about what I get to eat next. Better eat it now before tomorrow comes and egg whites it is!

So. I'm working on it. I might gain some weight. I'm ok with that. I might lose some weight, if it stops my binging dead in it's tracks. I might stay right where I'm at. Weight is no longer the issue. I'll probably always want thinner thighs. I'm a woman, a woman who lives in a cruel and ridiculous society where Britney Spears pumping gas makes headline news and t.v. commercials alternate between the latest diet drug and the latest double-triple-McWhopper combo meal at your nearest fast food joint. What a clusterfuck.

I'm out.



I just stumbled upon 2 of the most wonderful blogs in existence: Size Ate and Every Woman Has An Eating Disorder.

I want to cry. I also want to eat whateverthehellIwant next time I get hungry. I won't, though.

Baby steps. I have a looooooooooong way to go.

I'm three doors down from crazy. I'm out of my fucking mind.

I have some reading to do.



We returned our DVR today and I don't really miss it. It wasn't as painful and dramatic as I thought it would be. We also downgraded to the lowest non-dial up internet speed (does anyone even have dial up anymore?) and I don't notice a difference AT ALL. The total savings will be something like $75 a month, and that's pretty significant in my book.

Oh, and I have a confession. I finally watched the season premiere of Grey's Anatomy and DEAR GAWD, I am DONE with that show. What a fluke! Hot redhead is gone and the writers are just trying too hard, barely keeping their head above water with this total bullshit. The Office is all I really look forward to anymore, and LA Ink. That's all I got. Am I missing something? Is there some phenomenal show on that I don't know about? T.v. sucks. That's right, I said it. Without Showtime there is hardly any reason at all to watch. The Office must be the last great show on television. I will cherish it and hold it dear and pet it and sing to it and call it Fred. If it goes sour I just might kill myself. Or read, or something.


Life is expensive. We now have 3 car payments and full coverage on 3 vehicles. I do believe that gouging my eyeballs out and making an eyeball stew, and then EATING my own eyeballs in said stew would be more pleasant than forking over the hefty wad of cash that we now have to pay each month. Insurance, or in case shit happens, as Chris Rock so cleverly put it, is INSANE. To think that I'm on the preferred driver list is horrifying. What are all these other shmucks paying? Am I the shmuck? WHO HAS THE LOWEST RATES? No one. Everyone is money hungry and blood thirsty and they are out to RUIN YOUR LIFE. We can't go out anymore and there will be no more venti 3-splenda brewed coffees from Starbucks for me, no more weekday beer binges for D, no more "just because" toys for Ethan, but we're covered! For the love of gawd, we are COVERED.

(Deep breaths, deep breaths...)


My nose piercing is doing marvelous, thanks for asking. I have to check to make sure it's still in every freaking hour because I can't feel it at all. It's not sore anymore and, contrary to popular belief, it doesn't feel like I have a huge booger in my nose. My wee stud just sits there, shiny and pretty, jazzing up my nose like it's supposed to. I really dig it. Good stuff.


D is working late and E is in bed, and normally I would use the free time to workout, but I am SO.FUCKING.SORE. today from my leg workout yesterday that I had to make today my rest day. I hurt in all the right places, in my quads and glutes and hamstrings, in my abs (yowza!), and even in my neck, back, shoulders and forearms. My upper body hurts from hoisting a heavy barbell onto my shoulders every 5 minutes, and my forearms are killing me from deadlifts. I can manage a decent weight for deadlifts, but my grip strength is not up to par. When you do eighteen million hundred thousand trillion deadlifts with varying rep patterns, it starts to burn. So, in conclusion, this lower body workout rocks. I can't wait to do it again on Saturday. *sob*


I'm in need of some new menu ideas. To all you mini-mealers out there, what are you eating? Gimme your favorite meal-o-the-mo'. And thank you kindly!



*waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa* Tomorrow we are returning our DVR and therefore giving up Showtime, which means no more Dexter or Weeds or Californication. Well, until they come out on dvd, anyway. Which will be in like a yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeear or something ridiculous. We're giving up the digital cable so that we can more easily afford D's new truck. Dammit, life. Fucking life. I know I'm being whiny and ridiculous. Downgrading cable (and internet speed, oh my) will give me more free time in the evenings to do... yoga. Read. Pet the dog. I'll be down to only 1 show that has me by the balls, The Office. And Grey's Anatomy. But that's it! 2 shows, down from 5. That's pretty good. A heavier wallet and more free time. I guess it's not all bad. I'm a greedy, selfish whore. Shame on me.


I got my nose pierced. Yeah, a tiny silver stud on the left side. It looks rad. I think I have the perfect nose for it. Having a little bling-bling going on there certainly downplays the odd shape and disproportionate size of my shnaz. It's subtle enough to let slide at work, but just hip enough to turn a few heads and possibly score E some "cool parent" points when he gets a bit older. Word. To your motha.


Ok, well... I'm off to eat my new FAVORITE meal-o-the-mo': a cup of plain yogurt mixed with 1/2 scoop of berry blast protein powder, splenda and a cup of frozen mango chunks. Good gawd in yum-ville! Totally delish.

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