I know that Hollywood is just like anywhere else and trends come and go. The latest buzz around town is that we're "Bringin' Pregnant Back" to la la land. Motherhood is now back in style!
I succumbed not only to my mother's pressure since our honeymoon but the likes of Angelina, Tori Spelling, Britney, and all the other "Hot Mama's" this year. That's right folks I'm 6 months prego! Now Nicole Ritchie has joined our ranks. So I have all these "maternal role models to look up to?" Not really. It seems most of these women are as clueless as I am. The big difference is that for once in their lives they are actually allowed to eat real food. If you read about the pregnancy weight gains for these stars it's pretty high. Tori told me she gained over 60 lbs. Of course when we see their pictures in magazines they are as airbrushed and fresh looking as ever before. They don't show the real pregnancy glow that the rest of us are experiencing in the form of skin blotches and teenage acne! Once again Hollywood refuses to let the public see women, even pregnant women, as they really are.
So there is absolutely no celebrity who a woman can look to for any real representation. All the magazines concentrate on "Jennifer Anniston's supposed baby bump" when she's literally just had a milk shake and is a little bloated. So now, bloated equals pregnant? That's a great message for women across America! And what about all those articles with pictures of new mom's post delivery back in their bikinis in 6 weeks? Heidi Klum was back on the fashion runway in lingerie in 3 weeks after her son's birth. That is the most unrealistic standard I've ever seen! What is she a superhero and can make baby fat disappear in a single instant?
I'm learning more and more how the media is so unforgiving. When Debra Messing came back to work on her show "Will and Grace" after her baby's birth, she was about 120 lbs and they told her she was too fat! I'm not sure what the answer is especially for us Christians trying to live in this culture and building the self-esteem of our young daughters today. My own daughter will be arriving soon and I certainly hope there will be more ways to show her that what she sees on TV and magazines is all a facade and while these images can't be ignored we can see them for what they really are. Images based in some photo shopper's imagination. These pictures don't even have hair on the women's arms! Take a look and see what I mean!
I say "Bravo" to all the women out there that are doing the grandest duty of all by carrying children in their wombs into this world! The ones with stretch marks and swollen feet. It's a badge of honor and God says we are "Highly Favored!" So why don't we get our own calendar? I'd call it "Bringing Pregnant Back! The Real Hot Mamas!" We could all be eating cake and ice cream. What do you think? Ok ok.work in progress but we have to start somewhere! Right? Who's with me? I have to go now. I think my friends Ben and Jerry are calling me from my kitchen. I'm going to eat as much as I want because I'm pregnant and I CAN! You have to take the perks when they come! Now if we could only get special parking spaces...hmmm....
Musings from the clean comedian, blogger, author, actress, motivational speaker, mom, 80s rocker, supermodelwannabe, social butterfly, bargain shopper, Out of the closet Christian in Hollywood.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Pregnancy: Tales From the Trenches, I'm Not Fat I'm Pregnant
Ok, ok I admit the books on pregnancy did mention something about me gaining some type of weight of the period of nine months. I just didn't take them seriously. I've seen pregnant women before I just thought there would be some way around the whole "get a belly" thing in my case. I have a friend who literally gained 13 pounds with her kids and she was fine. So I assumed I could be just like her. The only difference is that she works out like a mad woman and also has a starting weight of 95 pounds. No I'm not kidding.
I saw how skinny Madonna looked when she was pregnant and what about Catherine Zeta Jones who literally filmed the musical Chicago in fish net stockings when she was four months along? Why wouldn't I be just like them minus the personal trainer and the zone diets delivered right to their doors daily? I could do it. I could keep my figure if it killed me!
Uh.."Clue Phone! It's for Kerri!" I'm an idiot and in my first few weeks of pregnancy I literally knew I was embarking on the battle of the bulge literally. I didn't want to give in but my first clue was when I decided working out with my trainer was overrated. What better excuse than being "with child" for me to quit completely. I told him I'd do my" own program" that was safe for the baby. This consists of watching Oprah every day on my couch and attempting a leg lift or two. Last night I tried a leg lift when I was watching "Amazing Race" because I inspired by all the fit people. But then I decided my shoe was heavy and lifting my leg required too much effort and it might hurt the baby. So I stopped and got some ice cream. But I did walk all the way to the kitchen!
Back several months before I was prego my husband and I decided to get a personal trainer to lose those "marriage love pounds" we'd both put on. It was a brutal 6:30 am schedule 3 times a week. I just hated it and now that I'm pregnant, I find it a total waste of time. I don't think getting up at 6:00am is good for anyone's health for that matter.
I think the whole carrying a child thing has gone to my head because I have this sense of empowerment when it comes to physically exerting myself. I won't do it. It's not like I seriously think I could injure my little munchkin. I just never did like working out so now's my time to milk it for all it's worth. My dilemma lies in the fact I don't want to be the fat pregnant lady either.
I think I started showing when I was about 3 minutes along. I did a comedy show and afterwards we broke the news to some of Ron's family. His aunt says "Yeah we knew it. You looked a little hefty up there!" I was about a month and a half along! Ya gotta love family! People totally knew I was pregnant no matter how hard I tried to hide it. So at some point the reality hit me that I might not be able to fit into my current wardrobe for much longer as much as I struggled.
Ron and I recently were scheduled to do a two night comedy showcase in LA for top casting directors and it was going to be a great experience to be on that roster with top comedians. The first night I got dressed in some stretch pants and a cotton top with a bold pattern on it thinking this would conceal the bulge in my tummy. I accessorized with lots of jewelry thinking, "distraction was a good weapon!" I would woo them with my flare! We arrive at the club and as usual it's about 90% male comics. And in the comedy world being overweight can be part of your act so it's not like some male supermodel convention backstage at all. We don't exactly have a lot of offers to do a "Hot Comedians Swimsuit Calendar!"
Anyway I was feeling pretty good until she walked in. I see this cute tiny size 6x Osh Kosh B'Gosh adorable girl of about 23 walk in. I thought she was someone's girlfriend but turns out she was a fellow comic. She approaches me and says "Hey you're Kerri Pomarolli. I'm a huge fan!" (I'm thinking there's nothing huge about you except your perfectly proportioned large cleavage that is so popular in LA!) She was pretty and sweet and super thin. I couldn't even hate her because she was actually being nice to me and telling me how I've inspired her as a clean comic. So she's not only cute and thin she's a clean comic too? It gets worse. Then she proceeds to tell me she does churches and Christian events as well. Now she's treading in deep waters because I thought I was the "hot chick" of the Christian women comics (all four of us-we all think we're each the hot chick between us). Now she wants to come steal my throne? I knew this day would come but who could prepare me! I made conversation with her because she was flattering to me and I came to find out all kinds of things about her, like she had just moved to LA about a year ago signed with a top agency and now was up for a movie role with Forrest Whitaker. Forrest Whitaker? Academy award winner Forrest Whitaker? Couldn't it be someone like Roger Whitaker that folk singer from the 1970's that whistled? Why did she have to get some super mega movie role offer 2 minutes after she arrived in "my town?" She said she had to "pray about it first" but they really wanted her for the lead. Well isn't that special? I was so jealous my ears had steam coming out of them. I put on my fake "LA" smile and politely told her to "call me" in that fake "LA" way and waddled my big old belly away.
The show started and I went out and did my act without a hitch and was feeling pretty good about my pregnancy playing nicely into my comedy. People laughed at me but in this case I was ok with it. Then about 30 minutes later Casey the cute, pretty 23 year old goes out and has the set of the night talking about her dating adventures of the young and single girls in Hollywood and to top it off she was 100% clean. I used to be young and single, I think. The audience ate her up and I was oh so very...depressed on the way home. All I could do was rant and rave about how I wasn't as cute as Casey and she was going to take over my career as the "good girl Christian comedian in Hollywood." Then I would die homeless penniless, alone and most of all 30 pounds overweight. I know how much my husband cared about me because he immediately stopped for doughnuts and candy bars to calm my nerves. It worked for 2 minutes and then I was back to my monologue about how much of a better person and comedian Casey was than me. I also said" Plus she's skinnier than I am!" My husband finally had it," You're pregnant silly!"
I replied" So what you're really saying Ron is that she IS skinnier than me! You like her better don't you! You wish she was your hot wife don't you!" The car ride rant went on and on until 10 minutes later I dozed off to sleep in the passenger seat.
I woke up the next morning bound and determined to make some changes before my second night's performance at the comedy festival. No more accessory jungle nightmare of color for me. I was going back to what used to work for me and that was only one thing: my size 4 "Seven" designer skinny jeans. They had served me well in the past couple of years on auditions, public outings and other events. I always knew the skinny jeans were a sure fire hit and I was not about to let them fail me now. That evening as I picked out my light green semi loose but fashionable sweater and jewelry set I grabbed my pair of jeans and put them on. Well ok let me rephrase that. I attempted to put them on and I got both legs in but something was amiss. They would not button up no matter what tactics I tried. I even did the lay on the ground thing and held my breath. I almost passed out but I gave it a good effort. I thought of smearing Crisco oil on my belly but I decided there had to be a better way. Then I saw a bright pink thick rubber band sitting on my dresser. I had a "MacGyver" moment of genius. I took the rubber band and twirled it around the button on my jeans and looped it in the buttonhole to make a sort of bridge so the pants would not be buttoned but held together by the single rubber band. Did this cut off my circulation? Yes! Did I look good in those jeans? More importantly yes! Breathing is overrated and I could do without it for one night. So I shimmied my way behind Ron to the car. He noticed I seemed happier but much more quiet on the way over. I suppose he didn't notice the lack of oxygen to my brain was impairing my speech. Oh well, it's not his issue.
We arrived at the theater again and all the comics including Miss Casey who was sporting her own set of beautifully fitting skinny jeans greeted me. (I bet all she has is skinny jeans!) She was wearing a cute T-shirt that said" Single Likes to Mingle!" I was so mad because I used to wear those cute t-shirts. I have one that says "Hi! I'm Single this weekend!" But since I've worn it in my pregnancy it doesn't seem to have the same effect. Not that I'm looking for a date but it always makes people laugh and it's great when I'm at parties.
So anyway I took a seat and one of the comics had brought treats for everyone to eat. He offered me a doughnut and for the sake of my child I obliged. Now mind you I had been wearing my sear sucking jeans for almost 2 hours at this point, rubber band intact and there were serious issues with me being able to really move around in them. But I didn't have any other clothes to change into and I just had to get through my set on stage. Casey opened the show with another fabulously funny and sassy performance. The audience cheered her on and I had to admit I liked her clean comedy. I decided we could be friends...AFTER the baby comes and I'm back to my "cute t-shirt" weight.
Finally at the end of the night it was my turn to go on. I strutted out on that stage knowing there were some major producers in that audience there to see me. My jokes were a hit and everyone was really enjoying the show. I was getting big laughs and I knew I was "on" and I felt good. I felt so good as I was back into my routine and I decided to go for my big "Pilates" joke which required some "Kerri Pomarolli" special physical comedy moves. The big finale was a "kick" in the air I'm kind of famous for. I mean how many comedians include in their routine a "Radio City Rockette" high kick? I told the punch line and as my leg was rising in the air all I could hear was a smack and pop. Then as if in slow motion, I see the rubber band around my jeans fly off of my waist, into the air and onto the floor in front of me where everyone in the audience could see it just dangling there. It wasn't a small rubber band that could have been hidden. It was a bright pink big huge honkin thing that looked like it flew out of my belly button. Not to mention my jeans started to quickly slide down both thighs open wide because my huge pot pregnant belly was now protruding in a way that no one could ignore. It looked like a can of Pillsbury dough mix that just got opened and the dough just starts spreading everywhere. I had a mic in one hand and there was no way the other hand was going to be able to save my jeans from falling so open it would quickly become an R –rated show. I could see the headlines now "Christian Comedian tries Strip Tease Comedy...Pregnant!" No I'm not Demi Moore and that wasn't the look I was going for. I had two choices .I could ignore the obvious and try in some way to finish my act in utter disgrace. Or I could run off stage yelling "Fire ! Fire! Fire!" I thought about it and as much as option #2 sounded appealing. I thought to myself" Kerri, you're pregnant and you've got to face it. You're also a comedian and you can use this situation to your advantage, someway, somehow. Think Kerri, what would Steve Martin do?"(My favorite comedy icon) I pulled myself and my jeans together and said to the audience "Oh if you didn't notice, I'm not fat I'm pregnant! Yeah that's what happens when you don't have cable!" They smiled and applauded. Then I said" I tried to wear my skinny jeans to be impressive to you people but it's just not working out. I'm going to go home now and eat myself into a carbohydrate infested ice cream coma because I CAN! "I said as I gracefully picked up my broken rubber band off the floor. I ended with "For all the dieting and weight conscious folks out there tonight who are counting calories and carbs. I'll have a Krispy Creme and double chocolate shake for you! Good night!" They applauded and I marched off the stage triumphantly.
I came home and as I was binging away on the couch at midnight with my dieting husband eating his carrot sticks I realized a couple important truths. I'm a mother and I'm carrying an actual life inside of me. This life needs food and room to grow. If I restrain this precious little one from growth space by restricting my own womb to expand I'm doing a disservice to my own child. Instead what I need to do is take a couple deep breathes and realize that growing a belly is the natural process of pregnancy and no matter how hard I try there are no "take backs" and I better just get used to the idea. I also came to the conclusion that I'm more than a growing belly and larger thighs. I was carrying the next prince or princess of our family. Ron aptly named me that night "The Royal Incubator" and for the next few months my main job would be to make sure the little royalty inside me was comfy, happy and well fed!
I saw how skinny Madonna looked when she was pregnant and what about Catherine Zeta Jones who literally filmed the musical Chicago in fish net stockings when she was four months along? Why wouldn't I be just like them minus the personal trainer and the zone diets delivered right to their doors daily? I could do it. I could keep my figure if it killed me!
Uh.."Clue Phone! It's for Kerri!" I'm an idiot and in my first few weeks of pregnancy I literally knew I was embarking on the battle of the bulge literally. I didn't want to give in but my first clue was when I decided working out with my trainer was overrated. What better excuse than being "with child" for me to quit completely. I told him I'd do my" own program" that was safe for the baby. This consists of watching Oprah every day on my couch and attempting a leg lift or two. Last night I tried a leg lift when I was watching "Amazing Race" because I inspired by all the fit people. But then I decided my shoe was heavy and lifting my leg required too much effort and it might hurt the baby. So I stopped and got some ice cream. But I did walk all the way to the kitchen!
Back several months before I was prego my husband and I decided to get a personal trainer to lose those "marriage love pounds" we'd both put on. It was a brutal 6:30 am schedule 3 times a week. I just hated it and now that I'm pregnant, I find it a total waste of time. I don't think getting up at 6:00am is good for anyone's health for that matter.
I think the whole carrying a child thing has gone to my head because I have this sense of empowerment when it comes to physically exerting myself. I won't do it. It's not like I seriously think I could injure my little munchkin. I just never did like working out so now's my time to milk it for all it's worth. My dilemma lies in the fact I don't want to be the fat pregnant lady either.
I think I started showing when I was about 3 minutes along. I did a comedy show and afterwards we broke the news to some of Ron's family. His aunt says "Yeah we knew it. You looked a little hefty up there!" I was about a month and a half along! Ya gotta love family! People totally knew I was pregnant no matter how hard I tried to hide it. So at some point the reality hit me that I might not be able to fit into my current wardrobe for much longer as much as I struggled.
Ron and I recently were scheduled to do a two night comedy showcase in LA for top casting directors and it was going to be a great experience to be on that roster with top comedians. The first night I got dressed in some stretch pants and a cotton top with a bold pattern on it thinking this would conceal the bulge in my tummy. I accessorized with lots of jewelry thinking, "distraction was a good weapon!" I would woo them with my flare! We arrive at the club and as usual it's about 90% male comics. And in the comedy world being overweight can be part of your act so it's not like some male supermodel convention backstage at all. We don't exactly have a lot of offers to do a "Hot Comedians Swimsuit Calendar!"
Anyway I was feeling pretty good until she walked in. I see this cute tiny size 6x Osh Kosh B'Gosh adorable girl of about 23 walk in. I thought she was someone's girlfriend but turns out she was a fellow comic. She approaches me and says "Hey you're Kerri Pomarolli. I'm a huge fan!" (I'm thinking there's nothing huge about you except your perfectly proportioned large cleavage that is so popular in LA!) She was pretty and sweet and super thin. I couldn't even hate her because she was actually being nice to me and telling me how I've inspired her as a clean comic. So she's not only cute and thin she's a clean comic too? It gets worse. Then she proceeds to tell me she does churches and Christian events as well. Now she's treading in deep waters because I thought I was the "hot chick" of the Christian women comics (all four of us-we all think we're each the hot chick between us). Now she wants to come steal my throne? I knew this day would come but who could prepare me! I made conversation with her because she was flattering to me and I came to find out all kinds of things about her, like she had just moved to LA about a year ago signed with a top agency and now was up for a movie role with Forrest Whitaker. Forrest Whitaker? Academy award winner Forrest Whitaker? Couldn't it be someone like Roger Whitaker that folk singer from the 1970's that whistled? Why did she have to get some super mega movie role offer 2 minutes after she arrived in "my town?" She said she had to "pray about it first" but they really wanted her for the lead. Well isn't that special? I was so jealous my ears had steam coming out of them. I put on my fake "LA" smile and politely told her to "call me" in that fake "LA" way and waddled my big old belly away.
The show started and I went out and did my act without a hitch and was feeling pretty good about my pregnancy playing nicely into my comedy. People laughed at me but in this case I was ok with it. Then about 30 minutes later Casey the cute, pretty 23 year old goes out and has the set of the night talking about her dating adventures of the young and single girls in Hollywood and to top it off she was 100% clean. I used to be young and single, I think. The audience ate her up and I was oh so very...depressed on the way home. All I could do was rant and rave about how I wasn't as cute as Casey and she was going to take over my career as the "good girl Christian comedian in Hollywood." Then I would die homeless penniless, alone and most of all 30 pounds overweight. I know how much my husband cared about me because he immediately stopped for doughnuts and candy bars to calm my nerves. It worked for 2 minutes and then I was back to my monologue about how much of a better person and comedian Casey was than me. I also said" Plus she's skinnier than I am!" My husband finally had it," You're pregnant silly!"
I replied" So what you're really saying Ron is that she IS skinnier than me! You like her better don't you! You wish she was your hot wife don't you!" The car ride rant went on and on until 10 minutes later I dozed off to sleep in the passenger seat.
I woke up the next morning bound and determined to make some changes before my second night's performance at the comedy festival. No more accessory jungle nightmare of color for me. I was going back to what used to work for me and that was only one thing: my size 4 "Seven" designer skinny jeans. They had served me well in the past couple of years on auditions, public outings and other events. I always knew the skinny jeans were a sure fire hit and I was not about to let them fail me now. That evening as I picked out my light green semi loose but fashionable sweater and jewelry set I grabbed my pair of jeans and put them on. Well ok let me rephrase that. I attempted to put them on and I got both legs in but something was amiss. They would not button up no matter what tactics I tried. I even did the lay on the ground thing and held my breath. I almost passed out but I gave it a good effort. I thought of smearing Crisco oil on my belly but I decided there had to be a better way. Then I saw a bright pink thick rubber band sitting on my dresser. I had a "MacGyver" moment of genius. I took the rubber band and twirled it around the button on my jeans and looped it in the buttonhole to make a sort of bridge so the pants would not be buttoned but held together by the single rubber band. Did this cut off my circulation? Yes! Did I look good in those jeans? More importantly yes! Breathing is overrated and I could do without it for one night. So I shimmied my way behind Ron to the car. He noticed I seemed happier but much more quiet on the way over. I suppose he didn't notice the lack of oxygen to my brain was impairing my speech. Oh well, it's not his issue.
We arrived at the theater again and all the comics including Miss Casey who was sporting her own set of beautifully fitting skinny jeans greeted me. (I bet all she has is skinny jeans!) She was wearing a cute T-shirt that said" Single Likes to Mingle!" I was so mad because I used to wear those cute t-shirts. I have one that says "Hi! I'm Single this weekend!" But since I've worn it in my pregnancy it doesn't seem to have the same effect. Not that I'm looking for a date but it always makes people laugh and it's great when I'm at parties.
So anyway I took a seat and one of the comics had brought treats for everyone to eat. He offered me a doughnut and for the sake of my child I obliged. Now mind you I had been wearing my sear sucking jeans for almost 2 hours at this point, rubber band intact and there were serious issues with me being able to really move around in them. But I didn't have any other clothes to change into and I just had to get through my set on stage. Casey opened the show with another fabulously funny and sassy performance. The audience cheered her on and I had to admit I liked her clean comedy. I decided we could be friends...AFTER the baby comes and I'm back to my "cute t-shirt" weight.
Finally at the end of the night it was my turn to go on. I strutted out on that stage knowing there were some major producers in that audience there to see me. My jokes were a hit and everyone was really enjoying the show. I was getting big laughs and I knew I was "on" and I felt good. I felt so good as I was back into my routine and I decided to go for my big "Pilates" joke which required some "Kerri Pomarolli" special physical comedy moves. The big finale was a "kick" in the air I'm kind of famous for. I mean how many comedians include in their routine a "Radio City Rockette" high kick? I told the punch line and as my leg was rising in the air all I could hear was a smack and pop. Then as if in slow motion, I see the rubber band around my jeans fly off of my waist, into the air and onto the floor in front of me where everyone in the audience could see it just dangling there. It wasn't a small rubber band that could have been hidden. It was a bright pink big huge honkin thing that looked like it flew out of my belly button. Not to mention my jeans started to quickly slide down both thighs open wide because my huge pot pregnant belly was now protruding in a way that no one could ignore. It looked like a can of Pillsbury dough mix that just got opened and the dough just starts spreading everywhere. I had a mic in one hand and there was no way the other hand was going to be able to save my jeans from falling so open it would quickly become an R –rated show. I could see the headlines now "Christian Comedian tries Strip Tease Comedy...Pregnant!" No I'm not Demi Moore and that wasn't the look I was going for. I had two choices .I could ignore the obvious and try in some way to finish my act in utter disgrace. Or I could run off stage yelling "Fire ! Fire! Fire!" I thought about it and as much as option #2 sounded appealing. I thought to myself" Kerri, you're pregnant and you've got to face it. You're also a comedian and you can use this situation to your advantage, someway, somehow. Think Kerri, what would Steve Martin do?"(My favorite comedy icon) I pulled myself and my jeans together and said to the audience "Oh if you didn't notice, I'm not fat I'm pregnant! Yeah that's what happens when you don't have cable!" They smiled and applauded. Then I said" I tried to wear my skinny jeans to be impressive to you people but it's just not working out. I'm going to go home now and eat myself into a carbohydrate infested ice cream coma because I CAN! "I said as I gracefully picked up my broken rubber band off the floor. I ended with "For all the dieting and weight conscious folks out there tonight who are counting calories and carbs. I'll have a Krispy Creme and double chocolate shake for you! Good night!" They applauded and I marched off the stage triumphantly.
I came home and as I was binging away on the couch at midnight with my dieting husband eating his carrot sticks I realized a couple important truths. I'm a mother and I'm carrying an actual life inside of me. This life needs food and room to grow. If I restrain this precious little one from growth space by restricting my own womb to expand I'm doing a disservice to my own child. Instead what I need to do is take a couple deep breathes and realize that growing a belly is the natural process of pregnancy and no matter how hard I try there are no "take backs" and I better just get used to the idea. I also came to the conclusion that I'm more than a growing belly and larger thighs. I was carrying the next prince or princess of our family. Ron aptly named me that night "The Royal Incubator" and for the next few months my main job would be to make sure the little royalty inside me was comfy, happy and well fed!
Saturday, September 01, 2007
Pregnancy: Tales From the Trenches, Bikini Season
I awakened last week to the familiar tingling of my feet at 29 weeks pregnant. Baby was 29 weeks. Happy Birthday baby! As a pregnant woman I'm always counting her weeks because each one counts. The longer she "bakes in the mommy oven" the better. It's August in California so there definitely could be worse places to be right now but nonetheless it's hot. My husband was out of town and I thought I'd spend a nice Saturday morning organizing our little home and doing "mom" things. Then I had a bridal shower of a girlfriend to attend. I actually spent the morning on BabyCenter.com researching possible cures and causes for the tingling in my extremities. I got everything from carpal tunnel syndrome to high blood pressure. I don't have either of those. I've decided my diagnosis is "pregnant." I did hear that the circulation could be helped sometimes by taking extra iron. But then my neighbor told me if I take too much iron I could die from "Iron overdose" and I prefer to live. This morning is just one of those mornings where I'm not too happy about my condition and the way my body looks. I had a nightmare last night that my thighs were turning blue from all the varicose veins and they had been that way for a while but I was too big in the belly to see them. I have to admit there are certain parts of my body I make a conscious choice not to look at. If I could do that when I'm not pregnant I'm sure I'd have higher self-esteem. Just think if all the women of the world made a pledge "We're not going to look in a mirror below our waists. We will not turn around in a mirror and obsess about the size of our God given "back", as J-Lo would call it? I think we'd all be a little plumper and a lot happier don't you?
I was going to see a few of my good friends today who hadn't seen me in weeks. I did not want the first reaction to be "Oh my goodness...look how big you are!" I had that happen with my other friend Trista the other day that by the way looks fabulous because she was off to Hawaii and ten pounds lighter than normal. Her jaw dropped and she kept repeating over and over "No Way! Wow! No Way!" That is exactly what she said when I told her Ron and I are going to have a baby! "No Way! Wow! You? No Way!!!" I love her. She's so supportive and nurturing. I felt bigger than ever because I've just recently put on 10 lbs in the past month. My whole goal for pregnancy was/is 25 lbs. I'm up to 20 and I'm only 29 weeks. Yeah I'm depressed, being the goal setter that I am.
So I had decided to wear my cutest blue maternity dress with my brand new 38-C nursing bra, which was still too tight around my back. Mind you I started out as a 34-b and now I have to use the bra extender I bought from the maternity shop on a 38 bra. What happened? Those bra extenders you buy are really cheap and make the backs looser so they don't cut off your circulation as much.
The problem with my outfit is that the bra was so much material in the front it kept sticking out of the armpits of my cute dress. I don't know how the well-endowed women of America do when they're prego? That's a lot of bra! I thought I wanted to have a bigger chest before I was pregnant. Now I realize I don't need the upkeep.
Anyway, my feet were still tingling but I really wanted to wear my cute pink shoes to the shower. They are flats after all and have adorable bows on them. They were not comfortable from the moment I put them on. But I refused to give into the fact that my swollen feet could be making some of my shoes uncomfortable. Some women even warned me my foot would grow a whole shoe size. That would be a terrible feat if you ask me. I love my shoes. I got that little habit from my own mother who thinks good shoes are a sign of good breeding and Godliness. I didn't even think to bring a back up pair of more comfortable shoes for later in the day. I waddled out to my car and drove in the hot summer sun to the shower. I arrive to see my girlfriends all looking radiant and thin. Even the one who has a 6-month-old son looks like a poster girl for "Slim Fast." She's a model and so is her husband. So I think it's in her job description to look thin and beautiful at all times. I'm glad I didn't become a super model like I planned when I was 7. Everyone was really polite and ooohed and aaaahed over my little pregnant belly and noone said how huge I looked. I took my place outside to enjoy a lovely lunch of salads and fruit and later some strawberry shortcake. I felt proud of myself for not totally indulging into too much sugar filled dessert or soda that day because I had been trying to watch my calories a little more since my last Dr. appt and my 10 lb weight gain. At 2:00pm it was time to go and my feet were officially killing me. I made it back to my car and concluded I'd be driving straight home in these shoes and unable to do any errands. I decided to take the scenic route home through the pier and downtown areas of the beach communities. One of my favorite times living in southern California has always been summer because we'd have beach parties and bar b ques and everyone would be out mingling all over the streets enjoying ice cream cones and other summer treats. It's a great vibe. This particular summer has in some way gone too quickly because it was early August and I hadn't been to the beach one time. It seemed to be passing me by. Ron and I had just discussed having a couple beach days soon before it was too late and I was looking forward to that very much. I started driving and got in the typical Saturday traffic pile up in Manhattan Beach on the main drag. I looked around and saw a sea of summer tan bodies walking up and down the sidewalks laughing and having a wonderful time. Then it hit me. All of the female tanned physiques were not only young and gorgeous but absolutely the size of a toothpick. There were no protruding bellies, no bathing suits with skirts to hide enormously growing backsides. There wasn't one bit of fat to be seen and believe me I looked. These girls and women looked like models out of a Sports Illustrated calendar, every one of them. All I could think was that my thighs now rubbed together every time I walked. What a depressing emotional scene I was subjecting myself to. Yes I was hormonal and 7 months pregnant but this didn't occur to me right then. All I could concentrate on was that I was no longer one of these happy go lucky ice cream eating bikini babes. I 'm not saying I was a twig but I admit I could hold my own on a Saturday afternoon at the beach in a two-piece without feeling like a total outcast. Maybe it's California but there seemed to be not a single woman over the size of Child's 6X and absolutely no pregnant women. Maybe there was an ordinance outlawing them from being seen in public?
I decided to exit this scene quickly and take another route home. It's not that I' m feeling sorry for myself, well ok maybe a little. It's just that nothing can really prepare you for all the changes your body will go through and how you will react to them. I don't hear many women talking about their feelings and I think there needs to be more dialogue. I'm assuming other women out there love their babies but aren't completely elated with the varicose veins all over their bodies and the stretch marks and other normality's that come with carrying the little munchkins? I'll be honest; I'm not loving it.
I went with my friend Gina later that day to actually buy myself a bathing suit that would be sufficient for the rest of the summer and it would be something I could be comfortable in. I went to the bathing suit store and looked around at the two pieces. I was looking in the regular section of suits not maternity because I just wasn't thinking I'd need a "pregnant" bathing suit.
I found some cute regular ones though. I didn't want to try them on but Gina insisted. I decided to compromise and just try on a few tops. This store just carried small, medium, large and XL. I gathered some cute suits and headed to the dreaded "dressing room." One thing I think women who are pregnant need to do is avoid dressing rooms altogether. The fluorescent lighting is no one's friend and neither is a 3-way mirror. I choose to live in my denial about my backside and its ever-expanding shape. This reinforced my decision to undress from the waist up with my eyes closed and only try on the bathing suit tops. The first one was a small and I looked like Pamela Anderson falling out of it everywhere. This was not a mommy appropriate size but I managed to squeeze myself into a medium and not feel too X-rated for pool parties with my in laws.
I had gathered some of the bottom bathing suit pieces that looked like shorts. This was a new experience for me buying either the "shorts bottom" or the "shorts plus skirt" bathing suit bottom. My mom had been famous for always wearing these suits when I was a kid that had these fluffy skirts at the rear end and to me that just draws more attention to that area by decorating it with little ruffles and flowers. My mom weighs all of 106 lbs and still insists on wearing a skirt bathing suit. So now I was turning into my mom? No, I resisted and surveyed the board shorts looking pieces. The small would be too small and I could live with that. The medium looked big to me so I decided to show it to the sales lady. She took one look at me, then one look at the suit and said, "You need to buy a large honey!" I was so insulted. I had never heard those words in my life. I'm 5"2 and had been a size 3 or 4 up until recently and the thought of buying a "large" anything was just a bit emotional. To all the ladies reading this I know we're all created in different shapes and sizes so I'm just writing this to convey my situation. It's not about the exact size but the surprisingly fast change in size I was experiencing in my body. It was just something different.
I know we all have our PMS days where we can't fit into our skinny jeans and we resort to our fat pants that are a size bigger than normal. But this was different...this was a large. Did my behind really convey the message to this clerk that I needed a size large as not to scare the little children at the community pool? The medium looked big enough and it wasn't like it was some string bikini. I fretted and fumed inside and then finally grabbed the large bottom and medium top and begrudgingly went to check out. I got a slurpee to make me feel better and that definitely worked. Nothing like an entire cup of icee sugar water to cure what ails you.
I got home and laid my new suit out on the bed. Since no one was home I thought "what the heck" and decided to try on my new hot suit for summer.
I put the top on and wiggled and wrangled everything in place as best I could. It was time to put on the dreaded bottom piece. I pulled it up over my right leg and the strangest thing happened. I must have been trying to put it on backwards or something because I couldn't get it over my thigh. I flipped it off and tried again knowing this way was correct. This definitely must have been a mistake because I could not get the suit up in any way shape or form over both of my thighs to even try to tie it at my hipbones. This was one of those low waisted suits so the belly wasn't even an issue. I tried and tried. I looked like I was doing some type of hip hop dance in my bathroom jumping up and down all over the place.
But to no avail this baby was about to rip into pieces if I yanked it any harder. Then it hit me like a mac truck. This darn "large" sucker was too small! My big fat behind had grown so much it wouldn't even fit into this large women's bathing suit. When did this happen? How did I not see it? Well maybe that's because I've been ignoring mirrors for the past few months but surely I would have noticed right? Or at least my husband would have noticed? Yeah right, as if he would dare make as single comment about my size and live to see another day. I couldn't believe what was happening at this very moment. I took a few deep breaths and decided to do something important.
I looked long and hard in the mirror at the woman facing me. It wasn't easy but I really checked her out. I checked out the spider vain with blue lines, the breakouts, the expanded bust line and then her belly and beyond. I got the realization that in some way this woman must be beautiful. In some way this woman with the cellulite and puffy feet must be happy with herself because inside of her big old belly was the most beautiful thing God has ever created on the entire earth...a human life. Not only that but a little baby girl who would grow up and probably look somewhat like her. So as I stared at this woman I had to make some choices. I could choose to keep obsessing and comparing myself to what I used to be, what I 'm not now and what I won't be again. Or I could find it in my heart to realize that in fact this stage in my life was the most important one of all and I was created by God to do this very job. I was made to live on this earth and bring this other little soul into existence to possibly shake up the world in her own way. So the deal is that to do that I was going to face some big changes in pretty much every area of my mind and body. It's not like there was any turning back. So was I ready to face the rest of this journey and embrace it or would I continue on my spiral of denial followed by frustrations with my changing self? It's not an easy thing to do, to take the positive route. I'm not perfect and since then I'm not saying I walk by mirrors and applaud. I just decided I'd do my best not to condemn myself and my body for adjusting to the amazing miracle inside of me. Do I still use the olive oils and tummy butters? You bet ya.
After that afternoon I went back to the store and looked at the "maternity suits. I kept the top I had purchased and went and got myself a nice comfy XL large bottom. It's a little too big but it works. It makes me feel good and when I strutted my stuff at the family pool party yesterday I really had a great time. My little niece kept coming up to my belly and saying" Hi Baby!" She's 5 and I wouldn't want her to ever be ashamed of her body no matter what size she is. I hope I can pass that along to my daughter. The women of tomorrow deserve to be proud of themselves inside and out more than the generation I grew up in. I hope she doesn't read fashion mags and Hollywood stuff and feel less than absolutely beautiful. I don't know what the answer is to helping the girls of today be more confident women of tomorrow but I'm sure going to try and find out.
I was going to see a few of my good friends today who hadn't seen me in weeks. I did not want the first reaction to be "Oh my goodness...look how big you are!" I had that happen with my other friend Trista the other day that by the way looks fabulous because she was off to Hawaii and ten pounds lighter than normal. Her jaw dropped and she kept repeating over and over "No Way! Wow! No Way!" That is exactly what she said when I told her Ron and I are going to have a baby! "No Way! Wow! You? No Way!!!" I love her. She's so supportive and nurturing. I felt bigger than ever because I've just recently put on 10 lbs in the past month. My whole goal for pregnancy was/is 25 lbs. I'm up to 20 and I'm only 29 weeks. Yeah I'm depressed, being the goal setter that I am.
So I had decided to wear my cutest blue maternity dress with my brand new 38-C nursing bra, which was still too tight around my back. Mind you I started out as a 34-b and now I have to use the bra extender I bought from the maternity shop on a 38 bra. What happened? Those bra extenders you buy are really cheap and make the backs looser so they don't cut off your circulation as much.
The problem with my outfit is that the bra was so much material in the front it kept sticking out of the armpits of my cute dress. I don't know how the well-endowed women of America do when they're prego? That's a lot of bra! I thought I wanted to have a bigger chest before I was pregnant. Now I realize I don't need the upkeep.
Anyway, my feet were still tingling but I really wanted to wear my cute pink shoes to the shower. They are flats after all and have adorable bows on them. They were not comfortable from the moment I put them on. But I refused to give into the fact that my swollen feet could be making some of my shoes uncomfortable. Some women even warned me my foot would grow a whole shoe size. That would be a terrible feat if you ask me. I love my shoes. I got that little habit from my own mother who thinks good shoes are a sign of good breeding and Godliness. I didn't even think to bring a back up pair of more comfortable shoes for later in the day. I waddled out to my car and drove in the hot summer sun to the shower. I arrive to see my girlfriends all looking radiant and thin. Even the one who has a 6-month-old son looks like a poster girl for "Slim Fast." She's a model and so is her husband. So I think it's in her job description to look thin and beautiful at all times. I'm glad I didn't become a super model like I planned when I was 7. Everyone was really polite and ooohed and aaaahed over my little pregnant belly and noone said how huge I looked. I took my place outside to enjoy a lovely lunch of salads and fruit and later some strawberry shortcake. I felt proud of myself for not totally indulging into too much sugar filled dessert or soda that day because I had been trying to watch my calories a little more since my last Dr. appt and my 10 lb weight gain. At 2:00pm it was time to go and my feet were officially killing me. I made it back to my car and concluded I'd be driving straight home in these shoes and unable to do any errands. I decided to take the scenic route home through the pier and downtown areas of the beach communities. One of my favorite times living in southern California has always been summer because we'd have beach parties and bar b ques and everyone would be out mingling all over the streets enjoying ice cream cones and other summer treats. It's a great vibe. This particular summer has in some way gone too quickly because it was early August and I hadn't been to the beach one time. It seemed to be passing me by. Ron and I had just discussed having a couple beach days soon before it was too late and I was looking forward to that very much. I started driving and got in the typical Saturday traffic pile up in Manhattan Beach on the main drag. I looked around and saw a sea of summer tan bodies walking up and down the sidewalks laughing and having a wonderful time. Then it hit me. All of the female tanned physiques were not only young and gorgeous but absolutely the size of a toothpick. There were no protruding bellies, no bathing suits with skirts to hide enormously growing backsides. There wasn't one bit of fat to be seen and believe me I looked. These girls and women looked like models out of a Sports Illustrated calendar, every one of them. All I could think was that my thighs now rubbed together every time I walked. What a depressing emotional scene I was subjecting myself to. Yes I was hormonal and 7 months pregnant but this didn't occur to me right then. All I could concentrate on was that I was no longer one of these happy go lucky ice cream eating bikini babes. I 'm not saying I was a twig but I admit I could hold my own on a Saturday afternoon at the beach in a two-piece without feeling like a total outcast. Maybe it's California but there seemed to be not a single woman over the size of Child's 6X and absolutely no pregnant women. Maybe there was an ordinance outlawing them from being seen in public?
I decided to exit this scene quickly and take another route home. It's not that I' m feeling sorry for myself, well ok maybe a little. It's just that nothing can really prepare you for all the changes your body will go through and how you will react to them. I don't hear many women talking about their feelings and I think there needs to be more dialogue. I'm assuming other women out there love their babies but aren't completely elated with the varicose veins all over their bodies and the stretch marks and other normality's that come with carrying the little munchkins? I'll be honest; I'm not loving it.
I went with my friend Gina later that day to actually buy myself a bathing suit that would be sufficient for the rest of the summer and it would be something I could be comfortable in. I went to the bathing suit store and looked around at the two pieces. I was looking in the regular section of suits not maternity because I just wasn't thinking I'd need a "pregnant" bathing suit.
I found some cute regular ones though. I didn't want to try them on but Gina insisted. I decided to compromise and just try on a few tops. This store just carried small, medium, large and XL. I gathered some cute suits and headed to the dreaded "dressing room." One thing I think women who are pregnant need to do is avoid dressing rooms altogether. The fluorescent lighting is no one's friend and neither is a 3-way mirror. I choose to live in my denial about my backside and its ever-expanding shape. This reinforced my decision to undress from the waist up with my eyes closed and only try on the bathing suit tops. The first one was a small and I looked like Pamela Anderson falling out of it everywhere. This was not a mommy appropriate size but I managed to squeeze myself into a medium and not feel too X-rated for pool parties with my in laws.
I had gathered some of the bottom bathing suit pieces that looked like shorts. This was a new experience for me buying either the "shorts bottom" or the "shorts plus skirt" bathing suit bottom. My mom had been famous for always wearing these suits when I was a kid that had these fluffy skirts at the rear end and to me that just draws more attention to that area by decorating it with little ruffles and flowers. My mom weighs all of 106 lbs and still insists on wearing a skirt bathing suit. So now I was turning into my mom? No, I resisted and surveyed the board shorts looking pieces. The small would be too small and I could live with that. The medium looked big to me so I decided to show it to the sales lady. She took one look at me, then one look at the suit and said, "You need to buy a large honey!" I was so insulted. I had never heard those words in my life. I'm 5"2 and had been a size 3 or 4 up until recently and the thought of buying a "large" anything was just a bit emotional. To all the ladies reading this I know we're all created in different shapes and sizes so I'm just writing this to convey my situation. It's not about the exact size but the surprisingly fast change in size I was experiencing in my body. It was just something different.
I know we all have our PMS days where we can't fit into our skinny jeans and we resort to our fat pants that are a size bigger than normal. But this was different...this was a large. Did my behind really convey the message to this clerk that I needed a size large as not to scare the little children at the community pool? The medium looked big enough and it wasn't like it was some string bikini. I fretted and fumed inside and then finally grabbed the large bottom and medium top and begrudgingly went to check out. I got a slurpee to make me feel better and that definitely worked. Nothing like an entire cup of icee sugar water to cure what ails you.
I got home and laid my new suit out on the bed. Since no one was home I thought "what the heck" and decided to try on my new hot suit for summer.
I put the top on and wiggled and wrangled everything in place as best I could. It was time to put on the dreaded bottom piece. I pulled it up over my right leg and the strangest thing happened. I must have been trying to put it on backwards or something because I couldn't get it over my thigh. I flipped it off and tried again knowing this way was correct. This definitely must have been a mistake because I could not get the suit up in any way shape or form over both of my thighs to even try to tie it at my hipbones. This was one of those low waisted suits so the belly wasn't even an issue. I tried and tried. I looked like I was doing some type of hip hop dance in my bathroom jumping up and down all over the place.
But to no avail this baby was about to rip into pieces if I yanked it any harder. Then it hit me like a mac truck. This darn "large" sucker was too small! My big fat behind had grown so much it wouldn't even fit into this large women's bathing suit. When did this happen? How did I not see it? Well maybe that's because I've been ignoring mirrors for the past few months but surely I would have noticed right? Or at least my husband would have noticed? Yeah right, as if he would dare make as single comment about my size and live to see another day. I couldn't believe what was happening at this very moment. I took a few deep breaths and decided to do something important.
I looked long and hard in the mirror at the woman facing me. It wasn't easy but I really checked her out. I checked out the spider vain with blue lines, the breakouts, the expanded bust line and then her belly and beyond. I got the realization that in some way this woman must be beautiful. In some way this woman with the cellulite and puffy feet must be happy with herself because inside of her big old belly was the most beautiful thing God has ever created on the entire earth...a human life. Not only that but a little baby girl who would grow up and probably look somewhat like her. So as I stared at this woman I had to make some choices. I could choose to keep obsessing and comparing myself to what I used to be, what I 'm not now and what I won't be again. Or I could find it in my heart to realize that in fact this stage in my life was the most important one of all and I was created by God to do this very job. I was made to live on this earth and bring this other little soul into existence to possibly shake up the world in her own way. So the deal is that to do that I was going to face some big changes in pretty much every area of my mind and body. It's not like there was any turning back. So was I ready to face the rest of this journey and embrace it or would I continue on my spiral of denial followed by frustrations with my changing self? It's not an easy thing to do, to take the positive route. I'm not perfect and since then I'm not saying I walk by mirrors and applaud. I just decided I'd do my best not to condemn myself and my body for adjusting to the amazing miracle inside of me. Do I still use the olive oils and tummy butters? You bet ya.
After that afternoon I went back to the store and looked at the "maternity suits. I kept the top I had purchased and went and got myself a nice comfy XL large bottom. It's a little too big but it works. It makes me feel good and when I strutted my stuff at the family pool party yesterday I really had a great time. My little niece kept coming up to my belly and saying" Hi Baby!" She's 5 and I wouldn't want her to ever be ashamed of her body no matter what size she is. I hope I can pass that along to my daughter. The women of tomorrow deserve to be proud of themselves inside and out more than the generation I grew up in. I hope she doesn't read fashion mags and Hollywood stuff and feel less than absolutely beautiful. I don't know what the answer is to helping the girls of today be more confident women of tomorrow but I'm sure going to try and find out.
Monday, August 20, 2007
True Princess Mentality
The other morning as I was getting ready to go preach the good news of all God's promises at a women's conference in Orange County CA, I needed my loving husband to help me prepare for the trip. The theme of the day that I would be speaking on was "Princess Mentality- Becoming a Daughter of the King." I had spent weeks preparing my message and then my comedy presentation. So the night before the journey my sweet husband Ron assured me I could go to bed and rest assured all the merchandise would be packed, the car would be gassed up and washed, and everything would be ready to go. He has to be extra nice to me because I'm carrying his child. I think I'm still getting the short end of the deal since I'm the one that has to go through labor but I'll milk it for all it's worth for now. So I did my best to get some sleep but at 6 months pregnant if I get 3 hours in a row without running to the kitchen for snacks or the ladies room I'm doing well. I think our baby loves to eat ice cream in the middle of the night just like her mommy.
So the alarm goes off and at 6:00am, I'm up and ready to leave because my sound check is at 7:45 am. It's about a 45-minute drive with no traffic. Ha! I just said No Traffic and I live in LA! Well at 6:00am on a Sat it's a good shot because everyone is still asleep except for the granola eating, beach jogging dog walkers and those people think cars are evil. I get dressed and notice Ron was out of bed. I thought to myself "Wow! He's so awesome. He must be up packing the car." I came out of the bedroom rejuvenated and ready to be the "super spiritual woman of God" that I am and what do I see? None other than my fully asleep husband sprawled out on the floor in his clothes from last night, TV still on and he's snoring like a train horn. I thought this might be a joke at first but then when I saw the drool coming from his mouth I knew he was out cold. He must have passed out last night while he was working away at packing for our trip. I didn't see any boxes so I assumed they were all packed nicely into our car. "Ron! Wake up dude! We gotta go!" I said. He didn't respond. I shook his shoulder and resorted to my" Mommy voice "(the one I developed shortly after we were married. I shouted, "Ronald Andrew McGehee! You get up this instant because we're going to be late!" All I got was a mumbled" Five more minutes..pllllllllllleeeeeeease five more minutes!" I finally was able to rouse the sleeping bear and get him showered and dressed and out the door.
At 6:55am we get to the car and I ask " Ron I don't see any boxes. Where is all the stuff you were going to pack for me?" He replied sleepily "What? What stuff? You asked me what? When?" I told him " I asked you to pack my things last night and you said, "Ok honey. Go to bed I'll take care of it remember?" He replied, "I must not have heard you. I was tired." He was tired! So that was his excuse? I was supposed to just live with that one? "I didn't hear you" is now a get out of jail free card for husbands? What if he "didn't hear me" whenever the heck he wanted? My mind started racing. The blood was rushing to the veins in my forehead and there was no stopping the explosion that was about to happen. When the emotions and frustration of a hormonally imbalanced very pregnant woman hit you better take cover. I hadn't even had my sugar yet in the morning so I was in no mood for any of this.
All I cared about is that we were totally late and I was about to lose all religion at this point because nothing I needed done had been done. I know I'm supposed to pray for grace in these moments. I know I'm supposed to be the Christian wife I promised to be on our wedding day but there had to be a loophole for situations like this! I started ranting and raving about how disappointed I was in his lack of organization and how he was ruining my day and a few other not so nice things were added in this diatribe as well. He felt bad and got defensive. The next thing you know we're having it out with each other has we hurriedly pack the car and get on the road to give all these women spiritual enlightenment and the joy of laughter. What a way to start my morning. I just felt so emotional and out of control. I knew I should calm down but I didn't know if it was physically possible. We drove and I tried to look in my bible for some verse from God and the first thing I got was in Psalms 34 and it says in verse 22 "May your unfailing love is with me. As I put my hope in you." Funny thing was some other time in the margin I had written and "Not my husband!" I'm not supposed to rely on Ron to meet all my needs because God is my true provider! But I didn't know how God was going to get all the boxes in my car without Ron's help!
So needless to say it was a long car ride and I was pouting and brooding. I reverted back to my old childish thoughts of God saying to Ron in the car. "Now look what you've done. I'm all-angry and my show is going to suck now! Cause God won't bless it! We won't sell anything to help pay our expenses cause you made me mad and sin!" I know I sounded like a 6 year old I'm aware of that. He said to mw "Kerri, You really need to re think about the God we serve. You know He loves and He's not mean and vindictive the way you're portraying Him. Stop that! Get all that childhood guilt out of your mind!" I knew he was right. I wasn't going to verbally admit it though. My pride was still full blown. Sometimes I get so mad I can barely pray but I gave it my best shot trying to get my head together on the car ride down the 55 freeway.
At about 7:38 am I see Ron slowly pull our car over to the side of the freeway and say the words "Uh oh" under his breath? I ask, "Are we getting pulled over? Is the car on fire? What's up?" He mutters back to me "Um…well…we're kinda sorta…uh…out of gas." He's inching the car off the freeway and onto the exit as I start to here the frightening sounds of our car stuttering. It was like the "Little engine that could…I think I can I think I can!" I was so in shock I didn't even know how to respond. I have to admit it was so hysterically ridiculous I almost had to laugh. But I knew we were definitely going to be late to my sound check and also I remembered he promised to gas up the car. Those two things were making the veins in my head pulsate fiercely again. It's just a physical reaction and I don't have much control over it .I'm being honest here.
The next thing you know I see Ron with a gas can literally running through traffic at full speed on this busy street looking for a gas station. I've never in my life seen him run like this. We should have been on "The Amazing Race" it was so reminiscent of a reality show. I just laughed to myself amidst my complete hormonal frustration. I looked up to heaven and just felt the prescience of God absolutely laughing his head off! The bible says He doesn't give us more than we can handle but He had to be kidding right? Ron gets back in the car and it's now 7: 55am. I 'm just about to lose my mind and my cell phone rings. I put on my fake phone voice and answer. It's my sponsor wondering where the heck I am. "Oh Judy we had some tiny car issues. Nothing to worry about. Praise God! I'm just peachy and I'll be there in a jiff!" I hung up and said, "Now what do you have to say for yourself? Ha? Huh?" He said he was sorry and then he did the unthinkable. He said, "Can I pray for you??" I 'm thinking "What? What? Prayer? You want to pray for me?" He's pulling that card? Oh no he didn't! I answered" Well you can pray for me but I'm so mad at you I'm not closing my eyes! And you better pray something good cause I have to be Christian in 30 minutes in front of 450 women buddy! You better pray I pull it together right now! And by the way speed if you have to. The cops will understand! So he prayed and I kept my eyes open!
I arrived at the conference and everything was fine. Ron set up my table and I had about 5 minutes to prepare by myself before I went on to teach for the morning session. I was so convicted and humbled and scared I would completely mess this up. "God! It's me Kerri! I know I sucked this morning! I know it! But I need you right now! Please forgive me and help me to do some good for these women and give me the right words to say." All I could hear in my heart was the words "Tell them about your morning!" God always does this to me. Whenever I mess up. He forces me to share it with the world. I went on stage and started off my talk with "Well my husband forgot to put gas in our car this morning. When we ran out of gas, I showed him my "real princess mentality." They laughed. I continued. "Ya know? I couldn't come before you today without letting you know how hard it was for me to even get here. Did anyone else have one of those mornings?" Just about every hand was raised. I went on to share with these women that we're never going to stop having crazy mornings until Jesus comes back. We will continue to fall down and make idiots of ourselves in front of others and behind closed doors. I told them I think the best gift we can give each other and ourselves is to take our "Perfect Christian" masks off and get real. Especially because we know that we're all struggling to fit in and live up to some false notion that we're supposed to have it all together…all the time. I reasoned that if we did have our acts together, what would that leave room for God to do in our lives? God totally blessed me that morning as I shared more than one example from my own struggles since I was young girl to appear "perfect." Maybe it came from our mother's expectations or something we learned on TV. Who cares, because it's all a lie and what God wants us to do is to stop pretending to be "super woman" and just admit we're all works in progress. It's the only way we can truly experience that unconditional love God has to offer us all. Maybe we've never had unconditional love so it's hard for us to believe there's a God up there in Heaven that will forgive us every single time. I strive to have more of that attitude towards my husband and of course my children someday. But I'm on the journey and I've got a long way to go. But I'll tell you one thing, I'm not quitting. The sessions ended and within 20 minutes I had sold every single book I brought to the conference. As if that wasn't great enough. God ordained 450 women to come up to Ron one by one and say 'Hey! So you're the guy who ran out of gas? Nice work honey!" God's got my back. I always knew it!
So the alarm goes off and at 6:00am, I'm up and ready to leave because my sound check is at 7:45 am. It's about a 45-minute drive with no traffic. Ha! I just said No Traffic and I live in LA! Well at 6:00am on a Sat it's a good shot because everyone is still asleep except for the granola eating, beach jogging dog walkers and those people think cars are evil. I get dressed and notice Ron was out of bed. I thought to myself "Wow! He's so awesome. He must be up packing the car." I came out of the bedroom rejuvenated and ready to be the "super spiritual woman of God" that I am and what do I see? None other than my fully asleep husband sprawled out on the floor in his clothes from last night, TV still on and he's snoring like a train horn. I thought this might be a joke at first but then when I saw the drool coming from his mouth I knew he was out cold. He must have passed out last night while he was working away at packing for our trip. I didn't see any boxes so I assumed they were all packed nicely into our car. "Ron! Wake up dude! We gotta go!" I said. He didn't respond. I shook his shoulder and resorted to my" Mommy voice "(the one I developed shortly after we were married. I shouted, "Ronald Andrew McGehee! You get up this instant because we're going to be late!" All I got was a mumbled" Five more minutes..pllllllllllleeeeeeease five more minutes!" I finally was able to rouse the sleeping bear and get him showered and dressed and out the door.
At 6:55am we get to the car and I ask " Ron I don't see any boxes. Where is all the stuff you were going to pack for me?" He replied sleepily "What? What stuff? You asked me what? When?" I told him " I asked you to pack my things last night and you said, "Ok honey. Go to bed I'll take care of it remember?" He replied, "I must not have heard you. I was tired." He was tired! So that was his excuse? I was supposed to just live with that one? "I didn't hear you" is now a get out of jail free card for husbands? What if he "didn't hear me" whenever the heck he wanted? My mind started racing. The blood was rushing to the veins in my forehead and there was no stopping the explosion that was about to happen. When the emotions and frustration of a hormonally imbalanced very pregnant woman hit you better take cover. I hadn't even had my sugar yet in the morning so I was in no mood for any of this.
All I cared about is that we were totally late and I was about to lose all religion at this point because nothing I needed done had been done. I know I'm supposed to pray for grace in these moments. I know I'm supposed to be the Christian wife I promised to be on our wedding day but there had to be a loophole for situations like this! I started ranting and raving about how disappointed I was in his lack of organization and how he was ruining my day and a few other not so nice things were added in this diatribe as well. He felt bad and got defensive. The next thing you know we're having it out with each other has we hurriedly pack the car and get on the road to give all these women spiritual enlightenment and the joy of laughter. What a way to start my morning. I just felt so emotional and out of control. I knew I should calm down but I didn't know if it was physically possible. We drove and I tried to look in my bible for some verse from God and the first thing I got was in Psalms 34 and it says in verse 22 "May your unfailing love is with me. As I put my hope in you." Funny thing was some other time in the margin I had written and "Not my husband!" I'm not supposed to rely on Ron to meet all my needs because God is my true provider! But I didn't know how God was going to get all the boxes in my car without Ron's help!
So needless to say it was a long car ride and I was pouting and brooding. I reverted back to my old childish thoughts of God saying to Ron in the car. "Now look what you've done. I'm all-angry and my show is going to suck now! Cause God won't bless it! We won't sell anything to help pay our expenses cause you made me mad and sin!" I know I sounded like a 6 year old I'm aware of that. He said to mw "Kerri, You really need to re think about the God we serve. You know He loves and He's not mean and vindictive the way you're portraying Him. Stop that! Get all that childhood guilt out of your mind!" I knew he was right. I wasn't going to verbally admit it though. My pride was still full blown. Sometimes I get so mad I can barely pray but I gave it my best shot trying to get my head together on the car ride down the 55 freeway.
At about 7:38 am I see Ron slowly pull our car over to the side of the freeway and say the words "Uh oh" under his breath? I ask, "Are we getting pulled over? Is the car on fire? What's up?" He mutters back to me "Um…well…we're kinda sorta…uh…out of gas." He's inching the car off the freeway and onto the exit as I start to here the frightening sounds of our car stuttering. It was like the "Little engine that could…I think I can I think I can!" I was so in shock I didn't even know how to respond. I have to admit it was so hysterically ridiculous I almost had to laugh. But I knew we were definitely going to be late to my sound check and also I remembered he promised to gas up the car. Those two things were making the veins in my head pulsate fiercely again. It's just a physical reaction and I don't have much control over it .I'm being honest here.
The next thing you know I see Ron with a gas can literally running through traffic at full speed on this busy street looking for a gas station. I've never in my life seen him run like this. We should have been on "The Amazing Race" it was so reminiscent of a reality show. I just laughed to myself amidst my complete hormonal frustration. I looked up to heaven and just felt the prescience of God absolutely laughing his head off! The bible says He doesn't give us more than we can handle but He had to be kidding right? Ron gets back in the car and it's now 7: 55am. I 'm just about to lose my mind and my cell phone rings. I put on my fake phone voice and answer. It's my sponsor wondering where the heck I am. "Oh Judy we had some tiny car issues. Nothing to worry about. Praise God! I'm just peachy and I'll be there in a jiff!" I hung up and said, "Now what do you have to say for yourself? Ha? Huh?" He said he was sorry and then he did the unthinkable. He said, "Can I pray for you??" I 'm thinking "What? What? Prayer? You want to pray for me?" He's pulling that card? Oh no he didn't! I answered" Well you can pray for me but I'm so mad at you I'm not closing my eyes! And you better pray something good cause I have to be Christian in 30 minutes in front of 450 women buddy! You better pray I pull it together right now! And by the way speed if you have to. The cops will understand! So he prayed and I kept my eyes open!
I arrived at the conference and everything was fine. Ron set up my table and I had about 5 minutes to prepare by myself before I went on to teach for the morning session. I was so convicted and humbled and scared I would completely mess this up. "God! It's me Kerri! I know I sucked this morning! I know it! But I need you right now! Please forgive me and help me to do some good for these women and give me the right words to say." All I could hear in my heart was the words "Tell them about your morning!" God always does this to me. Whenever I mess up. He forces me to share it with the world. I went on stage and started off my talk with "Well my husband forgot to put gas in our car this morning. When we ran out of gas, I showed him my "real princess mentality." They laughed. I continued. "Ya know? I couldn't come before you today without letting you know how hard it was for me to even get here. Did anyone else have one of those mornings?" Just about every hand was raised. I went on to share with these women that we're never going to stop having crazy mornings until Jesus comes back. We will continue to fall down and make idiots of ourselves in front of others and behind closed doors. I told them I think the best gift we can give each other and ourselves is to take our "Perfect Christian" masks off and get real. Especially because we know that we're all struggling to fit in and live up to some false notion that we're supposed to have it all together…all the time. I reasoned that if we did have our acts together, what would that leave room for God to do in our lives? God totally blessed me that morning as I shared more than one example from my own struggles since I was young girl to appear "perfect." Maybe it came from our mother's expectations or something we learned on TV. Who cares, because it's all a lie and what God wants us to do is to stop pretending to be "super woman" and just admit we're all works in progress. It's the only way we can truly experience that unconditional love God has to offer us all. Maybe we've never had unconditional love so it's hard for us to believe there's a God up there in Heaven that will forgive us every single time. I strive to have more of that attitude towards my husband and of course my children someday. But I'm on the journey and I've got a long way to go. But I'll tell you one thing, I'm not quitting. The sessions ended and within 20 minutes I had sold every single book I brought to the conference. As if that wasn't great enough. God ordained 450 women to come up to Ron one by one and say 'Hey! So you're the guy who ran out of gas? Nice work honey!" God's got my back. I always knew it!
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
I Try to Be a Good Wife
Now I'm not one to brag on my domestic skills. I'm not like my mother. She knows how to make a fabulous hot meal and keep a tidy house with no effort whatsoever. I didn't inherit these skills. I was too busy doing ballet tap and jazz to learn to cook. When I dated Ron I made sure he knew what he was getting into. My other friends have to make dinner for their husbands all the time. I tell them" Listen; I've lowered Ron's expectations so much every time I fry an egg he gets excited. Learn from the master. But sometimes I try to go the extra mile for my husband because I'm just that cool.”
Marriage has been a trial. They didn’t tell me in pre marital that there would be a man in my house trying to steal my closet space and he would intend on living there forever. I just didn’t know what to do. Then God sent that fire and only Ron’s shirts got burned. So I took it as a sign. I thought to make him feel better. I would try to make him an actual meal. I hadn’t really tried to cook for him before but I was feeling loving so I gave it a shot.
He enjoys the fine art of eating and sleeping. He's really good at it. I decided to try one of my mom's easier recipes I'd seen her do a thousand times. It’s called Broccoli Cheese Cornbread. It’s a southern favorite. It's easy all you need is cornbread mix from the box, cheese, and broccoli. This would be a snap. I was doing find until about midway through I realized I was using not the Cheese Cornbread mix but the Blueberry Corn muffin mix. I didn't think it would matter that much. Maybe he would enjoy the extra fruity flavors? I just picked some of the blueberries out and kept cooking.
I made the rest of the recipe and served it to him with a big smile. I saw him bite into the cornbread experiment and almost choke. Truth be told it was disgusting. If we had a dog I still wouldn't feed this blueberry purple and green mess to him. The dog would probably die. Ron did his best to swallow and be polite. Inside I was laughing but I wanted to see how long it would take him to comment on how bad my cooking was. He didn't say anything. He ate the whole thing. He only put two bites in his napkin when he thought I wasn't looking. It was amazing. I confessed to him later that night that I knew it sucked and asked him why he didn't tell me how bad it was. He said, "Kerri beggars can't be choosers and food is food. I just thought it couldn’t get much worse than this so I wanted to encourage you to keep trying. And with your lack of cooking I’m losing a lot of weight. So overall this set up is a win win either way!"
Marriage has been a trial. They didn’t tell me in pre marital that there would be a man in my house trying to steal my closet space and he would intend on living there forever. I just didn’t know what to do. Then God sent that fire and only Ron’s shirts got burned. So I took it as a sign. I thought to make him feel better. I would try to make him an actual meal. I hadn’t really tried to cook for him before but I was feeling loving so I gave it a shot.
He enjoys the fine art of eating and sleeping. He's really good at it. I decided to try one of my mom's easier recipes I'd seen her do a thousand times. It’s called Broccoli Cheese Cornbread. It’s a southern favorite. It's easy all you need is cornbread mix from the box, cheese, and broccoli. This would be a snap. I was doing find until about midway through I realized I was using not the Cheese Cornbread mix but the Blueberry Corn muffin mix. I didn't think it would matter that much. Maybe he would enjoy the extra fruity flavors? I just picked some of the blueberries out and kept cooking.
I made the rest of the recipe and served it to him with a big smile. I saw him bite into the cornbread experiment and almost choke. Truth be told it was disgusting. If we had a dog I still wouldn't feed this blueberry purple and green mess to him. The dog would probably die. Ron did his best to swallow and be polite. Inside I was laughing but I wanted to see how long it would take him to comment on how bad my cooking was. He didn't say anything. He ate the whole thing. He only put two bites in his napkin when he thought I wasn't looking. It was amazing. I confessed to him later that night that I knew it sucked and asked him why he didn't tell me how bad it was. He said, "Kerri beggars can't be choosers and food is food. I just thought it couldn’t get much worse than this so I wanted to encourage you to keep trying. And with your lack of cooking I’m losing a lot of weight. So overall this set up is a win win either way!"
Thursday, May 17, 2007
The Healing Power of Lifetime TV
There are a few things that are certain in this life. Carbohydrates taste good, pantyhose are from the devil, Patrick Swayze is the best actor ever and when I'm sick there is nothing more deeply soothing than 14hrs a day of gloriously sappy Lifetime Television.
It never fails...ever since I transitioned from childhood sick days filled with Price is Right, I Love Lucy and Woody Woodpecker to long drawn out on the couch sick days with Victoria Principle or Meredith Baxter Bernie starring in "Don't Touch My Daughter Unless You're Her Father" original movies.
Today was no exception as I awoke from a sleepless night of the onslaught of the dreaded flu symptoms. I knew my only recourse was to pull out the blanket, plop down on the couch, and rest for an entire day. Even this morning I was sucked into two re runs of the ever popular Golden Girls where Dorothy was once again proposed to over Sophia's all knowing objections only to find out that Joey Orvack, a recent divorcee of 69. really only wanted to get married because he was lonely. (Mom knows best especially when she's 4"9 and Sicilian) So sadly at 29 minutes after 10:00am they parted. And it was on to another episode where Rose and Blanche entered a talent show for Christmas. What a way to start my morning.
At about 11:00 the newest development in my life awakens and rouses himself to the living room...my new husband. He is also sick and so they say “Misery loves company.” My husband has the gift of sleep anyway so now that he's sick he's in his glory that he has an excuse to get up at 11:00am. I decide since he got sick a day before me it's his fault I'm ill in the first place, therefore he needs to go get the laundry from downstairs that was left in the dryer two days ago and then go to Save On and get me more drugs that will make me pass out until I'm among the living again. Now mind you when I was single it was me that had to actually throw on the sweat pants and make it to the store to buy my own drugs and juice but having a man/nurse is quite handy.
So then as he's leaving I go back to my rigorous routine of searching all 550-cable channels for something meaningful to watch. But again even after perusing WE (Women's Entertainment Network), Oxygen and others I'm happy to discover Lifetime now has their very own movie network. All Lifetime Movies all the time.... How much Morgan Fairchild could a girl ask for in one day? Am I in Heaven or what? So I settle in on "Christmas Comes to Willow Creek" 1987 starring Bo and Luke Duke otherwise known as John Schneider and Tom Wopat, my two-first boyfriends. This movie got one and a half stars as most movies on Lifetime. If the film originally got two stars I don't think Lifetime could afford the fees to show it. This is a touching tale of two feuding brothers forced by their dying father, played by some heavyset, white haired actor, who looks familiar but I don't know his name, to carry a bunch of Christmas toys back to their home town in Alaska.
It's a tale of generations as Tom Wopat brings his rebellious green haired teenage son alongfor the journey so he can re kindle their relationship and get him to dye his hair back to brown before the end.
Now John is sporting a mustache and Tom a beard. I heard that on the Dukes of Hazzard neither were allowed to have facial hair so maybe this film was supposed to be their breakout as mature actors? They still looked good in the tight wrangler jeans with the skull tobacco sticking out the back pockets. Hmmm…nothing says sexy like faded denim, chew and facial hair. Someone pinch me!
So off they go and let the antics begin. About 12:00 Ron my husband wanders back in with my goodies and plops down to watch about 4 minutes of this Christmas Classic and he just can't take it. He's bored but more amazed that this movie actually got on the air…somewhere...anywhere. "Kerri! This is horrible...why are you watching this?" Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh is all I could reply because Tom Wopat was just about to find out why John Schneider stole his girlfriend 10 yrs ago, a young pre NYPD Blue Dana Delaney, and then married her. Aha...we had now found out the riff that tore these two brothers apart and I wasn't about to miss the confrontation. Maybe they'd have a spitting contest to settle this once for all with their Skull Chew? Who knew…it's Lifetime…somebody was going down!!
Ok, ok.... maybe it's a guilty pleasure and tomorrow I would have to go back to the "real world" where the MTV generation rules and Flava Flav the rapper is the king of dating TV. But today I'm happy. Today I'm cuddled up with my boys that bring back childhood sick day memories of Dukes of Hazzard and I Love Lucy reruns. I’m basking in the healing power of Lifetime TV and it is good.
It never fails...ever since I transitioned from childhood sick days filled with Price is Right, I Love Lucy and Woody Woodpecker to long drawn out on the couch sick days with Victoria Principle or Meredith Baxter Bernie starring in "Don't Touch My Daughter Unless You're Her Father" original movies.
Today was no exception as I awoke from a sleepless night of the onslaught of the dreaded flu symptoms. I knew my only recourse was to pull out the blanket, plop down on the couch, and rest for an entire day. Even this morning I was sucked into two re runs of the ever popular Golden Girls where Dorothy was once again proposed to over Sophia's all knowing objections only to find out that Joey Orvack, a recent divorcee of 69. really only wanted to get married because he was lonely. (Mom knows best especially when she's 4"9 and Sicilian) So sadly at 29 minutes after 10:00am they parted. And it was on to another episode where Rose and Blanche entered a talent show for Christmas. What a way to start my morning.
At about 11:00 the newest development in my life awakens and rouses himself to the living room...my new husband. He is also sick and so they say “Misery loves company.” My husband has the gift of sleep anyway so now that he's sick he's in his glory that he has an excuse to get up at 11:00am. I decide since he got sick a day before me it's his fault I'm ill in the first place, therefore he needs to go get the laundry from downstairs that was left in the dryer two days ago and then go to Save On and get me more drugs that will make me pass out until I'm among the living again. Now mind you when I was single it was me that had to actually throw on the sweat pants and make it to the store to buy my own drugs and juice but having a man/nurse is quite handy.
So then as he's leaving I go back to my rigorous routine of searching all 550-cable channels for something meaningful to watch. But again even after perusing WE (Women's Entertainment Network), Oxygen and others I'm happy to discover Lifetime now has their very own movie network. All Lifetime Movies all the time.... How much Morgan Fairchild could a girl ask for in one day? Am I in Heaven or what? So I settle in on "Christmas Comes to Willow Creek" 1987 starring Bo and Luke Duke otherwise known as John Schneider and Tom Wopat, my two-first boyfriends. This movie got one and a half stars as most movies on Lifetime. If the film originally got two stars I don't think Lifetime could afford the fees to show it. This is a touching tale of two feuding brothers forced by their dying father, played by some heavyset, white haired actor, who looks familiar but I don't know his name, to carry a bunch of Christmas toys back to their home town in Alaska.
It's a tale of generations as Tom Wopat brings his rebellious green haired teenage son alongfor the journey so he can re kindle their relationship and get him to dye his hair back to brown before the end.
Now John is sporting a mustache and Tom a beard. I heard that on the Dukes of Hazzard neither were allowed to have facial hair so maybe this film was supposed to be their breakout as mature actors? They still looked good in the tight wrangler jeans with the skull tobacco sticking out the back pockets. Hmmm…nothing says sexy like faded denim, chew and facial hair. Someone pinch me!
So off they go and let the antics begin. About 12:00 Ron my husband wanders back in with my goodies and plops down to watch about 4 minutes of this Christmas Classic and he just can't take it. He's bored but more amazed that this movie actually got on the air…somewhere...anywhere. "Kerri! This is horrible...why are you watching this?" Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh is all I could reply because Tom Wopat was just about to find out why John Schneider stole his girlfriend 10 yrs ago, a young pre NYPD Blue Dana Delaney, and then married her. Aha...we had now found out the riff that tore these two brothers apart and I wasn't about to miss the confrontation. Maybe they'd have a spitting contest to settle this once for all with their Skull Chew? Who knew…it's Lifetime…somebody was going down!!
Ok, ok.... maybe it's a guilty pleasure and tomorrow I would have to go back to the "real world" where the MTV generation rules and Flava Flav the rapper is the king of dating TV. But today I'm happy. Today I'm cuddled up with my boys that bring back childhood sick day memories of Dukes of Hazzard and I Love Lucy reruns. I’m basking in the healing power of Lifetime TV and it is good.
Friday, January 12, 2007
FAT PANTS
Ok yesteday I was running around to interviews with Ron my husband.He just signed with my commercial agency in Beverly Hills so we had to go meet them. I dressed him..he looked nice. Then we had another meeting in Orange County. I had gotten dressed that morning in my tall black boots and cute little pants etc...well I didn't realize how little the pants had become since my complete binging over the holidays. They have obviously shrunk in my closet.
I told Ron I needed to stop by the mall and get a new outfit. I was not comfortable.
So I ran over to the Jr. section in Macys. I spent 15 mins browsing all the sixe 6x outfits before realizing I'm living a dream Why am I still shopping in Jr's when Im clearly way over the age demographic? Trixie the 14 yr old sales girl called me mam. ( spell?)
I grabbed some jeans and a couple sweaters and went into the dressing room. This is where it gets sad. These jeans not only were too small. They helped me realize that me fitting into a size 3 in Jr's just isn't going to ever happen again.I could do pilates of whatever the kids are doing today but it's just not worth it. I grabbed some chocolate from my purse and continued my emotional eating as I looked into the oh so flattering three way mirror and made a mental note to actual start working out at some point in 2007. I also decided I would write the word" FATTY" on my hand every day to remind me to stop eating myself into a coma.
Then I go outside and try on some accessories. I realize these same things were in style when I was in high school. I should have kept them
I put on a green headband. It was too tight. Now HOW FAT are you when the flippin headband is too small? That is pathetic.
I went right over to Ann Taylor where I feel skinny. They mark down all the sizes to make me feel thin. I put on a size 4 and it fits. But I realize I'm buying my first set of "FAT PANTS" ya know the ones that are sweat pants disguised as regular pants. It's a beautiful concept and who needs to wear jeans? Maybe I can go over to Talbots and get some MOM jeans that come up to my rib cage. Is that where this is heading?
Maybe I should just go over to Chico's like my mom and just start wearing beaded necklaces and flowing skirts and gaucho pants. Is that the answer? I'm old and fat. And I really don't care...or do I ?Ron is on the cell phone and as long as he's talking I'm going to keep buying clothes because I'm in a crisis.
I got two pairs of "FAT Pants" both in "FAT PANTS COLOR BLACK" as if there's any other. And head out the door.
Then we went out to dinner and I gorged myself into another food coma. I was going to come home and work out but "Biggest Loser" was on and I sat on the couch and ate some more.It was just one of those days.
I told Ron I needed to stop by the mall and get a new outfit. I was not comfortable.
So I ran over to the Jr. section in Macys. I spent 15 mins browsing all the sixe 6x outfits before realizing I'm living a dream Why am I still shopping in Jr's when Im clearly way over the age demographic? Trixie the 14 yr old sales girl called me mam. ( spell?)
I grabbed some jeans and a couple sweaters and went into the dressing room. This is where it gets sad. These jeans not only were too small. They helped me realize that me fitting into a size 3 in Jr's just isn't going to ever happen again.I could do pilates of whatever the kids are doing today but it's just not worth it. I grabbed some chocolate from my purse and continued my emotional eating as I looked into the oh so flattering three way mirror and made a mental note to actual start working out at some point in 2007. I also decided I would write the word" FATTY" on my hand every day to remind me to stop eating myself into a coma.
Then I go outside and try on some accessories. I realize these same things were in style when I was in high school. I should have kept them
I put on a green headband. It was too tight. Now HOW FAT are you when the flippin headband is too small? That is pathetic.
I went right over to Ann Taylor where I feel skinny. They mark down all the sizes to make me feel thin. I put on a size 4 and it fits. But I realize I'm buying my first set of "FAT PANTS" ya know the ones that are sweat pants disguised as regular pants. It's a beautiful concept and who needs to wear jeans? Maybe I can go over to Talbots and get some MOM jeans that come up to my rib cage. Is that where this is heading?
Maybe I should just go over to Chico's like my mom and just start wearing beaded necklaces and flowing skirts and gaucho pants. Is that the answer? I'm old and fat. And I really don't care...or do I ?Ron is on the cell phone and as long as he's talking I'm going to keep buying clothes because I'm in a crisis.
I got two pairs of "FAT Pants" both in "FAT PANTS COLOR BLACK" as if there's any other. And head out the door.
Then we went out to dinner and I gorged myself into another food coma. I was going to come home and work out but "Biggest Loser" was on and I sat on the couch and ate some more.It was just one of those days.
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