Wednesday, March 27, 2013

My Cheatin’ Heart

Over the last several weeks, I’ve cheated more than Tiger Woods.  The only difference is that I cheated with bad food choices and he cheated with bad hoodrats.  After a long talk with myself, I decided it was time for me to attempt the Advocare 24 Day Challenge.  I’ve done the 10 Day Cleanse twice in the past and absolutely loved it.  This time, I’m taking it a step further and adding in an attempt to eat clean.

I did a few things to prepare for this cleanse….

I just look angry trying to shove that camo cupcake in my mouth!  You can find the instructions for making camo cupcakes ***HERE

I then made a SUGARFREE cake and it was UH-MAZING!!! Mr. Fluff HATES chocolate. So.....I made a chocolate cake.  Coincidence?  I think not.  I actually made this as a test for Fluffette’s first birthday cake.  I wanted to see if I could be lazy and make the cake in a springform pan rather than using two separate circle cake pans.  SUCCESS!  For the record, I ate half the cake….myself….in one day. 

As my last meal, I got two bean and cheese burritos and chips and queso from Taco Cabana.  I ate every.last.bite.  And paid for it an hour later.
Last night began my preparation.  I cut up veggies, mixed greek yogurt with cinnamon and measured out my meat.  TWSS.  I then prepared Mr. Fluff and advised him that we’d be eating Chicken Ceasar Kale Salad for dinner tonight.  He said “what the hell is Kale”.  To which I responded, “its….um….healthy lettuce”.  The truth is I have zero clue what it is but I’ve seen the word all over the world wide web in reference to "healthy-ness" so it MUST be super good for you.

I even put on the ol spandex that I abandoned a few weeks ago and took some before pics.  (I know you are all still scarred from my sports bra pics so I decided to just wear an uber tight shirt this time.  You.are.welcome. )  I also briefly considered cleaning up Fluffette's toys but decided to keep it real.  

Wideload, you’re so hard on yourself”

Look, if you can write ‘WIDELOAD’ in Helvetica Bold 16 font on your backside… have a big azz.  I’m just sayin’. 

Then I took my measurements.  I am happy to report that I’m down over 6 pounds this month but unfortunately some of that is muscle.  Deep Sigh.

Date: March 26, 1013
Weight:  172.2
Chest:  38
Arms:  12.25
Waist:  32
Hips:  41
Thigh:  25.5
Calf:  16

Then I joined the local gym.  I’ve been sweatin my face off with Jillian Michaels for the past several months and decided it was time for us to part ways…for a little while at least.  I figured it would be a good time for Fluffette to play with other kids…while I sweat with other women.  I actually teared up a little when I dropped her off at the Kid Zone because I’m a sissy.   But mama needs some ‘mama time’.  

I decided that I should take the Hip Hop Hustle class because…you know….I’m super gangster.  I’m not gonna lie, I rocked that shyt.  I was getting all the moves and shakin dat azz like some fool was gunna make it rain with dolla dolla bills, ya’ll.  I felt SO GOOD, in fact, that I went up to the teacher after class and asked her to tell me more about getting certified in hip hop dance instruction.  True Story. 

This is what I looked like in my head….

This is what I actually looked like….

I can keep a rhythm but I have no business shaking my azz that hard.  But you know what…sometimes you have to break down those walls you’ve built. 

Sometimes you have to step out of your comfort zone.

Sometimes you have to make a complete azz of yourself.

And you know what, sometimes you will see your hard work pay off. 

You will gain confidence.  You will start to realize that YOU CAN DO IT.  You will be one day closer to being Fifty Shades of Awesome. 

I’m currently only about 25 Shades of Awesome, but I know, deep down, that I’m worth it.  I know that when I’m eating green bell peppers (booty) dipped in greek yogurt with cinnamon (even more booty) while dreaming of Sonic Cheesesticks that I’m in charge of my own future.  I’m doing this to be a better wife.  I’m doing this to be a better mother. 

I’m doing this to be a better ME.  

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Thursday, March 21, 2013

The Crippled-er Cottage

Rollin down the street smokin’ ciggies
Hopped up on paaaaain meds
Laid back, with my mind in the clouds
And carpal tunnel in my hand

Yes, I’m hopped up on Hydro….codone.  I had a procedure done on Monday that is uber embarrassing and I don’t wish to talk about it.  I understand that it’s a very common part of pregnancy but I’m not a big fan of being ‘common’.  I know you're all at the edge of your seats wanting to know what happened so I’ll just say it rhymes with ‘flem void’.  Thanks to my flem void removal, I gotz me a good dose of pain meds.  If I were ever to become addicted to something (besides food) I think painkillers would be my thang. 

Rewind to Friday.  A couple of my girlfriends took off work and we loaded up the little nuggets and went to the Fort Worth Zoo.  Fluffette could really give two shyts about seeing any of the animals but she loved feeling the wind in her three hairs!  She’s getting pretty damn sassy and we now know that we’re gonna have our hands FULL for the next 18 years when we get to kick her out and tell her to go to college or get a damn job.  For instance, here's a photo segment of us attempting to take a cute picture….

Look at us...bein all NORMAL. 

Hey...what are those things?

Ima take these while you continue to smile for the camera.....dumbazz. 

 Saturday, Mr. Fluff and I decided that we needed to get an overnight babysitter and head down to Greenville Avenue to drink our faces off.  We like to pretend that we’re still cool.  We lasted approximately four hours then were home and in bed by 9pm but not before we spent $20 at McDonalds to ‘carb up’.  I ate half an order of French fries then threw the rest in the fridge.  I opened up the fridge the next morning to find fries all over the top shelf.  I left them there for three days, too lazy to clean them up.  Sue me.    


After (aka 6pm)

Tuesday was the big test for my right hand.  The technician lady person was odd…to put it nicely.  She was a close talker so I immediately wanted to punch her with my gimp arm didn’t like her.  She kept talking about her ‘husband and kids’ and I couldn’t help but wonder if she actually meant her ‘cat…and other cats’.  It felt like we were on a first date and there were multiple awkward silences where she’d ask me a question, I’d answer it and then she would just sit there and stare at me.  So I would start talking again just to break the silence.  I finally had to say, “so…….let’s do this”.   They put some fancy instrument on your arm and hand in different places then send a shock through your arm.  She said, “it will just feel like someone touching you after they rub their feet on the carpet.”  She is a liar. 

The test came back definitive.  Carpal Tunnel.  YAY!  High kicks and jazz fingers.  I go back on Tuesday to discuss options with my Dr but the Cat Lady says I will most likely require surgery.  My first thought was how the hell am I supposed to smoke AND surf pinterest at the same time.  My second thought was that I’ll rely a lot on Greta and Bailey (our dogs) to help me change and feed Fluffette.  Seems doable. 

To round off The Crippled Cottage, I took Fluffette today for an ultrasound.  Whenever she cries she has a big bump that comes up between her eyes.  Since I’m mother of the year, I just thought it was a little eyebrow fat.  The good news is that it’s not a cyst.  The bad news is that we still don’t know what it is.  Further testing and further money spending may be required. 

Thank goodness Fluffette’s cute because she sure is causing a lot of pain and money spending!!!  I know this is my payback for having an easy pregnancy and an even easier childbirth. 

Well, I’m off to pop more pills and squeeze my cute little baby until one of her marshmallow arms pops. 

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Thursday, March 14, 2013

The Crippled Cottage

Someday when I win the lottery, I will open a rehabilitation center called “The Crippled Cottage”.  I realize that’s prolly anything BUT politically correct, but I like to think that adding “Cottage” to something makes it socially acceptable.  Until I win, I will call the Fluff household The Crippled Cottage. 

It all started last Thursday.  Mr. Fluff was complaining of pain in his belly area.  We thought it was just gas at first since that seemed most logical.  The pain continued for 4 days so Mr. Fluff finally went to the ER Sunday morning.  While he was gone, I cleaned and organized.  At about 1pm, he called to say “I’m in room 213”.  I immediately freaked out and called him.  Turns out his appendix was super pissed off at him and would be removed later that afternoon.  I got a babysitter for Fluffette and headed to the hospital.  He finally went in to surgery at 4pm and was able to come home around 9pm.  He’s not allowed to pickup Fluffette for two weeks.  (super sad smiley)

Tuesday I went to a hand/wrist Dr to see what’s going on with my wrists.  To get you caught up, the pain started towards the end of my pregnancy.  I had put on 60 pounds so I was quite girth-y.  Since I slept on my side, there was A LOT of weight being put on my poor whittle arms.  After Fluffette was born, I would spend all of her late night feedings with iphone in hand scrolling through Pinterest.  Thus, the pain worsened.  

I went to the Dr and she put me on a steroid pack that seemed to alleviate the pain for the time being.

That pain is back with a vengeance now.  I wake up every.single.night between 2 and 4 am with excruciating pain in my right hand.  It’s numb and tingly and all around awesome.  It usually takes about an hour for the pain to go away enough for me to go back to sleep.  I choose to think this pain is the reason that I can’t get up early for a workout before Fluffette gets up.  When making my coffee and Fluffette’s bottle in the morning, I’m unable to grip so it takes me a minute to get the top off her bottle.  This is not ok.  Arthritis runs in my family so, of course, I self-diagnosed myself on WebMD.  When I went to the Dr Tuesday, I let them know up front what my diagnosis was.

They ignored me.

Apparently, if you don’t have a degree in medicine, you can’t diagnose arthritis.  Weird.

Anyways, after a series of tests it was determined that I needed an injection in my left wrist and would wear a sexy brace for two weeks.  If that doesn’t work, I will need a short surgery.  I will tell you that wearing a brace on your hand while taking care of your husband, child and all the household duties is pretty much the best thing ever.  Every time I turn around the Velcro is stuck on something.  It’s the worst with changing out laundry.  I thoroughly enjoy peeling crusty socks and undies off my arm brace.

Then on to the right wrist.  Even though it’s CLEARLY arthritis, I will go back in next week to get some fancy schmancy test where they put acupuncture-ish needles in my arm and watch how the something flows through the something.  I didn’t really pay attention…you know….because I have A.D.D….also self diagnosed on WebMD. 

Yes, Yes I will take one of your damn Dum Dum suckers after  you just physically and emotionally violated my wrist. 
I’m sure the first thing that comes to your mind is, ‘Wow, too bad she’s married because that would make an UH-MAZING profile picture on”.  And you are completely right.  Sorry fellas, all this sexy *does pelvic thrust while running hands over torso* belongs to Mr. Fluff.

Well, it’s not very easy typing with a brace the size of China on my arm so I’ll cut it short this week.  Here are some pictures of Fluffette.  She’s turned in to quite the handful and in case you were wondering, six is the number of pieces of dog food she can successfully fit in to her mouth.  Lord, please give me patience. 

Bailey is looking for a new family.  She pretty much hates her life. 

Who said the next generation wouldn't appreciate VHS movies.  #don'taskwhyistillownvhs  #hadthesesincethe90s

"oh, did you have these in any particular order?"

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Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Hutto in the Hizzie

This past weekend, The Fluff’s set out for Hutto, TX to help Hippy in Hutto work on Bobo’s nursery. (feeding a baby in a gas station is stupid fun)

If you’ve ever been to Hutto, it was most likely due to a wrong turn off the highway on your way to Austin, TX.  I’d never heard of this small town until Hippy told me she was moving there.  Hutto is home to the world famous (not really) Hutto Hippo’s.  Did you know that Hutto is the only town in the world that has a Hippo as their mascot?  This fact doesn’t shock me because,who the hell wants their school mascot to be an overweight mammal that resembles a pig and is cousins with a whale?!?!!?  Hutto…that’s who!  (how many times can I use the word ‘Hutto’ in a paragraph??)

Hippy and I did a lot of eating and a lot of shopping…..and then more eating.  We also managed to get a lot done on Bobo’s nursery so now we just wait for that lil fella to get here.  ***Hippy despises that I call her baby “Bobo”.  Thus the basis of its appeal.  Love ya Hippy! 

While we slaved over shopping, eating and decorating, the boys went across the street to party like it’s twentythirteen at the neighbors garage bar.  In their drunkenness, they called and asked us to come over for a minute…and bring Fluffette.  Well, good thing because the dogs aren’t really capable of caring for her.  *rolls eyes*

I digress. 

The reason they wanted us to come over? (I didn't get permission to share this video but I'm Fluffy in mutha fuggin Frisco so I'll share what I want it's on YouTube so that's pretty damn public.)

We’re practically famous (even though you can't really see us...I'm in the green jacket and spandex.  Shocker).  HF 

While in H-town, I heard the following:
1.        You look fit.
2.       You’re waist is tiny
3.       Your legs are so small
4.       You should write a book

Needless to say, I’ll be visiting MUCH more often.  I mean…..who doesn't like to hear these types of compliments even from people that were clearly drinking a lot.

Once we made it back home, I was feeling pretty good.  Like 100% of the world, I enjoy hearing compliments.  Even if it’s hard for me to accept them as truth, I still like hearing them.  With my new found confidence, I decided it was time to hit the mall and spend all of Mr. Fluff’s hard earned money.   

With my fit body, small waist and legs and the first chapter of my book twirling in my head (chapter one: Go Fluff Yourself), I went to the Buckle.

If you didn’t read my denim debate a few months ago, you can check it out HERE and Here
When I walked in, a 12 year old worker (mild exaggeration) said, “Hi, what brings you in so early” *pops gum and talks like a valley girl. *

 Um…it’s 2pm…I’ve been up for hours lady.  I remembered that she was young and prolly went to a “real rager” last night and woke up moments before her 1pm shift. 

“I’m just looking at jeans” She replies, “oh…did you just get your tax return”.  Since I’m bat shyt crazy, I took that to mean that I look poor and can’t afford jeans. Then I remembered that she prolly just started her period last week and her mom buys her jeans.

I then proceeded to try on every.single.pair of jeans in the store.  I did a crap ton of Denim dips to get most of them on…

A friend told me that the Buckle does alterations for free so that was exciting. However, they only alter the hem, not the waist.  As I complained about my hips spreading across God’s green earth while carrying then later pushing out a toddler, the girl told me that she understood.  You see, she’d managed to lose 30 pounds during her senior year of High School…three years ago.  I judged her the second I saw her in her cute little booty shorts that I would only ever be able to wear as a bracelet.  The truth is she had her own weight struggles.  She understood.  I then felt like an a-hole and congratulated her on her journey….and the fact that she was actually 21…not 12. 

We then became BFF’s and she sat through every single attempt I had to fit in to these cute jeans.  She complimented me and said I was “lucky to have a small waist”.  I understand that she was trying to make a sale, but she definitely put forth the effort.  As sweat beaded off my forehead, I felt defeated.  I liked a couple pair of jeans, but they would both need to be altered in the waist...and both were expensive ($86 and $147) I still can’t rationalize paying that much for a pair of jeans so I will save that for when I lose 20 more pounds.  Don’t worry; I ended up buying the cute coral shirt she brought me to make it worth her time.

The moral(s) of the story is this: 
1.  Hutto is a magical place filled with awesome people that will compliment the shyt outta you and;
2.  You never know somebody else’s struggles.  You will still judge’s natural.  Just understand that they may have gotten that cute little ass by working it off.

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