First Name Fluffy....Last Name NotAtAllConsistent

Blogging 101 tells us that if we want to grow our blog, we blog multiple times a week....every week.

This is one of those times that I miss working in the corporate world.  I would get to work late, turn on my computer then promptly get to work.  And by "get to work", I mean "start typing out my blog".

Yes, those were the good ol' days.....

The truth is, I'm trying to balance a toddler that is trying to send me to an early grave,  starting a business that I hope will eventually help secure the well being of our family and keeping my house somewhat clean (and even "somewhat clean" seems unattainable these days).  Typically, when I try to log on to my computer during the day, Fluffette decides she needs to use the computer to check her stocks and send inappropriate emails to one of her future ex-husbands.  So......I stopped trying to blog during the days.  That leaves: before 7am and after 8pm.

I know there are several bloggers that wake up at like 4:30 in the a.m. to blog *cough cough @hollystanfield cough cough @skinnymeg.  I am not at all that cool.  I mean....I won't even get up that early to pee and would rather get a UTI then have to roll out of bed to tinkle...so blogging is out.of.the.question.

By the time 8pm rolls around, I'm tired as shyt. That's usually when I'm cleaning the kitchen, folding laundry, surfing pinterest...you know....important stuff.  

From here on out, I will do my best to blog once a week so that you're life will feel fulfilled and the world will make sense again for you. You.are.welcome!  (double hair flip)

So, to get you caught up on The Fluff's, here are a few pictures from recent weeks...

"Just dumping my food on the floor so I can enjoy a snack with my sisters"

"Here's lookin at you kid"  She also does not feel the need to get her fork dirty while eating

NO KID!!!!!!

This is so normal, you don't even know how normal it is

Boogie came to see me at market

Oatmeal and Christmas PJ's.  We like to party

Maturity at its finest.  Totes can't tell who we are. 

We wanted to send a message to Julie about skipping out on girls night.  (she caught it on her security camera because, well, she's apparently some sort of royalty that needs a security camera)

Adding her special touch to our pumpkin cookes

She ate quite a bit of the inside of this pumpkin....AND she lived to tell about it

When are these mofo's gonna be done cooking?

Drankin and gossipin.....that's what dreams are made of.

Definitely a Daddy's girl

Her new fave thing to do is get out all of DaDa's ties and wear them around the house.  Then...throw them down so someone else can pick that shyt up.  

Back to our regularly scheduled programming next week, Bytches!

Need Me Some Movtivation

I've had a few conversations lately about motivation.  Where to get, how to keep it and what to do with it once you have it.  The truth is....it's different for everyone.  We all have a different point that we feel like is 'rock bottom'.

Some girls hold on to the body they had when they were 16 and could eat whatever they wanted with no consequences.  They spend the rest of their lives crying over the body they once had DECADES ago and will most likely never have again.  That's life.  I am NOT one of those girls.  I was over 200 pounds when I was 16 so that is NOT the girl I strive to be.  That girl was fat.  That girl's milkshake didn't bring a damn thing to the yard....other than more milkshakes and milkshakes give me the 'rhea.

Some girls put about ten pounds on their 120 pound frame and bytch nonstop about how fat they are.  If you are one of THESE girls, please don't ever complain to me about being 130.  I will roll you up in a tortilla, deep fry you, eat you as a snack, then break off one of your legs and use it as a toothpick.  (serial killer much)

Other girls (me) have struggled with weight their whole life.  I'm pretty sure I weighed abuckfifty when I was 7 and it went downhill from there.  I've always been fairly lazy..I mean...last week I got a rash from energy..ENERGY!  Anyways, 'the fat girl' is constantly in the back of my head, reminding me of what I used to be.  That fat bytch will most likely never go away but over time, I hope I can get her annoying, high-pitched, fat voice to simmah down nah.......someday.

After having Fluffette, I was HUGE....like Michelin Man huge.  My hormones were just as out of control as my waistline so that didn't help the issue.  My 'rock bottom' wasn't just one moment but rather a series of moments.  I would sit on the floor in my closet and cry because none of my clothes fit.  I wondered why my husband loved me when I looked that way.  I doubted my self worth.  I felt like a marshmallow in a world filled with carrot sticks.  What does that even mean??  It means that I was effing fat and all my friends were super skinny.

I had two options:  lose weight.....or get new, fluffier friends.  So I started my search for fluffier friends....

I kid, I kid.

In the beginning, it was hard...like all day, every day...HARD.  (twss)  I skipped out on cake.  I took my own turkey burger to cookouts to throw on the grill, then just ate the patty with veggies, no bun.  I didn't buy crappy food to tempt myself.  I measured ev.er.y.thing.  I also started Jillian Michael's 30 Day Shred.  The workouts are only 20 minutes long so I could do it while Fluffette napped.  When I cheated, and I definitely cheated, I just took a deep breath and moved on.  I tried not to dwell on the downfall but rather celebrate my victories.

One of my first victories was fitting in to my very first pair of pre-pregnancy jeans.

This was about 5 months after birthing a baby through my lady hole.  Those jeans were a size 12 but fit like a 14.  It took me about an hour of denim dips to get those bytches up my sausage legs then I sucked in like I've never sucked in before to get them buttoned.  BUT I DID.  Then I wore those ho's in public...proudly.  Nevermind the fact that I had to use tweezers to retrieve the button from my fat rolls at the end of the day...or that I still have an indention on my stomach in the outline of the waistband.  I'd achieved my first goal.

That first victory made it easier to make better choices.  Those better choices led to better victories and so on and so on.

Over the past 16 months, I've shed a lot of tears (tears of joy and tears of frustration).  I've had MANY ups and downs.....but I always stood back up, put one foot in front of the other and just TRIED each day to be better than I was the day before.

I sit here typing this weighing in 82 pounds lighter than the day I gave birth.  And yes, I abso-fluffing-lutely count that as my starting point.  If you don't think that childbirth counts as losing weight, then you're just stupid most likely a man.

I have 4 pounds to go to reach my goal weight of 150.  My size 8 pants are loose on me.  Not loose enough for me to fit in to a size 6 but I'm soooooooo close.  I've trained myself over the past year to know when to stop eating, how to make the right choices and when I can slack a little here and there.  If I want queso, I eat it.  But I COULDN'T do that in the beginning.  It takes time.  I continue to be a work in progress but I know that my smaller waist makes ME a better wife, a better mother and a better person.  I'm happier when I'm thinner.  End of story.  #doesthatmakemeshallow

A few things about this photo:
1.  I need to get my hurr did...stat.  These roots are out of control.
2.  82 pounds later and I STILL have sausage legs
3.  I am IN LOVE with  my new Turquoise Brooch necklace from Kristi's Kloset.  Go check her out!  She's a fellow stay at home mom trying to build a business and she's getting ready to add a bunch of fun shizzle for fall.

I'm sorry.....is this a rash?

The past six weeks have been a real nut twister.  From emergency surgery to a death in the family to trying to build my own business....mama is worn the eff out!

Since having my surgery, I haven't been released to work out which has been harder on me than I ever thought possible.  I NEED to workout now.  It's MY time.  I definitely think it has served as a stress reliever and really just makes me feel better about myself.

Right after surgery, I was told that the only form of working out I was allowed to do was WALK.  Um...no.thank.you.  I'm that lazy bytch that will circle the parking lot for 20 minutes to find a parking spot close to the door.  Then, will run low on fuel, leave to get gas, then go back to said destination and continue the circling ritual.  Parking far away from the door just makes me angry.  #batshytcrazyproblems

So, on Monday night I started giving myself the pep talk.  It was time for me to get my azz back to the gym that I've been paying for the last two months that I haven't even driven by.  I decided that I wanted to start working out at 5:30 am on Tuesday and Thursday so I went ahead and set my alarm for 5am.  When I get up early to workout, I always go to bed dressed so that I ONLY have to brush my teeth and put on shoes to get out the door.

Approximately 5 minutes and one bag of cheetos after setting my alarm, I went ahead and turned that bytch off.  We all know I don't wake up that early.  So, instead, I told myself that I would call the Kid Club when I woke up to try to get Fluffette in for a 9:30 workout.

It's no secret that I love me some Advocare so when a friend told me about a newish product (Slam), I was all in.  I drink spark almost every single day so I was ready to up my game.  As I pulled out of the driveway to drive the 7.2 miles the gym, I chugged the Slam.  Now, from what I understand, Slam is like Spark on Crack.

A couple of minutes later, my insides burned.  It felt like a just took a shot of Patron chilled and dressed and then my back started to hurt.  It became evident that this shyt was eating away at my internal stitches and that I would prolly end up back in the hospital.  #notdramatic

I digress.

Then, out of nowhere, my face started to feel hot so I looked in the mirror.  "wait...what?....is that a.....son of a bytch...that's a muh fuggin rash!"

I felt fine so I decided that a little rash on my money maker face wasn't gonna hold me back from my first official work out in over six weeks.  I continued on to the gym and chugged a bottle of water hoping that would flush out the rash (that's what heals rashes, right?)

By the time I got out of the car at the gym, I had a rash alright.  From head to toe.  I went to bend my wrist and that shyt crackled.  Clearly my skin was swelling up.  Seems par for the course.

I got Fluffette out and still had it in my mind that I would proceed to Turbo Kickboxing.  When I walked through the front door and the receptionist looked at me like I was Rocky from Mask....

I decided it was not in my best interest...nor the best interest of society as a whole....for me to workout.  I turned around and headed out.  That rash took residence on my body for the good part of three hours.

The good news is that shortly thereafter, the Slam kicked in and I cleaned my whole house, cleaned out two closets and organized the guest bedroom that looked similar to this...

The morale of the story?

When life gives you a rash, you get your azz home quick and clean some shyt!!

~~~~
Now for some pictures of my baby that's cuter than your baby

Just a girl and her Gorilla

That time we put Fluffette on a leash

The Fluffs

Fluffette stole BoBo's boots then did her best to take care of her best fwend.  

Securing her position as BoBo's future wife with dat azz.  #backthatthangup #shegetitfromhermama