This confession has to be quick I'm on my way out the door.

And I debated on whether or not to tell you.

I. am. horrible.

Following my four pound weight loss I proceeded to eat shit. Junk. Sonic shake and deep fried mushrooms.

Someone wire my jaw shut now before it's too late and you find me covered in powdered sugar in under a rack in the corner of a Lane Bryant somewhere sobbing.

Slight redeeming quality: I rode my bike 6 miles yesterday.

Still. Very bad girl.

I am losing weight... despite myself.

Hello skinny people (seeing the future is one of my many talents) How are you this beautiful fall morning? Good? Great? Fan-fucking-tastic?

Just a quick little smidegen of information before I go off and spend my Saturday at the happiest place on earth :) That's right boys and girls I'm talking about IKEA. sigh. It's practically my Disney World.

FOCUS.

I just wanted to type a quick little diddy about my scale avoidance. And by avoidance I mean total and complete aversion to. Let's just say I have not had what I would consider "healthy eating habits" these past few weeks. You know... no breakfast. No water. Fist full of fun-sized Mounds candy bars. Stuff like that. So I was paranoid to get on the scale and get discouraged (notice my ticker above had not been updated).

In all actuality this is rather... well... stupid. Because If I gained weight I gained weight regardless of whether or not I read it on a scale. Do any of you ever get that way? Like it doesn't count if you don't see the number? If the last time I stepped on a scale I was 168, am I still 168 even though my pants no longer fit and I can barely fit through a door frame? Hypothetical of course. I had my door frames widened years ago.

Well today I grew a pair and hopped on my wii fit (my preferred method of weight tracking) only to find I had lost 4.2 lbs since my last weigh in! (disclaimer: I gained 1.5 lbs my last weigh in as it was the day after returning from vacation and my ever eventful journey on the Greyhound bus) None the less, I lost 4.2 lbs in one week. WOWZA!

I give complete and total credit to my BFF Lulu who has been out and about nearly everyday since we met <3 because Honestly I didn't make it easy on myself. Can you think of the numbers that would have fallen off had I done what I was supposed to do? Gets me all hot and bothered.

God knows just what I need for motivation.... results! Thanks God. You're the coolest.

I am in Luuuuuuurv. And my husband is ok with the threesome.

Ladies and Gentleman (I can say this now because I now have men followers) First let me start off by saying I love you people.

I do.

Nothing makes me more happy to rise and shine in the morning to freshly typed blog updates on my reader page. :) Stories of weight loss heartache, minor set backs, and my personal favorites, the success in daily battles. I feel like with you, my little groupies, I can do anything. Love.

Annnnd to make it even more spectacular I now have NINE count them 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9er followers. Sure, some of you pro bloggers snicker at my nine while you admire your ten million five hundred thousand followers, but let me just tell you something. We're not a big people, but we have heart and are amazing in every way. It's true. Let the jealously ensue.

Now for my announcement. I have found love. Love like I never thought I could know. She's beautiful. Perfect in everyway. My husband says he thinks so too, but I think he's just complying as to not hurt my feelings.

Her name is Lulu (I didn't make that up, it's her birth name and I happen to love it, makes her sound exotic, like French or something) and she is a Schwinn beach cruiser.

I spotted Lulu a few weeks ago and told my husband if he ever wanted me to bear his children she would be mine. Complete with a handle bar basket. Needless to say our relationship is built on threats. I kid. I kid. Please don't write me with your marriage counseling advice.

Our first ride was exhilarating. I put my feet out to the sides and threw my head back, elementary school style. The neighbors no longer speak to me. I don't care.

If I was 14 I couldn't appreciate all that is her grace and beauty, but as a twenty something I am drinking it up like milk. The general public loves her too. I get genuine smiles, waves from children, and the occasional "cool bike". Thanks. I know she's cool, but I thank you for recognizing it too.

Maybe it's not just the bike. Maybe it's me on the bike. I feel like I exude this aura of happiness and glee when I ride her. And I hope people can see that.

My journey to Lulu has been a rough one. I have been looking for a bike for a while... well not so much actively looking as hoping the right one would just run over my toe while I sat on my couch eating fried foods. But since this whole weight loss commitment thing I have felt pressure to really find one. We've been to countless sporting good shops and big box stores. I even perused a Trek store only to turn myself right around at the price tag. My wallet was not as committed to fitness as my heart.

Nothing felt like a good fit. Nothing felt like me. I didn't want anything too technical in fear that someone would ask me the specifics about the damn thing and I would look like an asshole for not knowing. I'm not out for hardcore cycling and adventure... although the outfits are quite convincing.

I wanted something that would be comfortable for me but not make me look like a senior citizen, a la the adult tricycle.

I just recently became a follower of Bitchcakes and discovered that she had a Hello Kitty beach cruiser! I thought to myself, "Self, maybe a beach cruiser is just what you need. It's simple, classic, and you're ass should fit on the oversized seat without too much of a struggle".

Not but two days later did I land my eyes on Lulu and It was love at first sight. And she loved me back. Or at least that's what the man at the store said as I practiced riding her.

This bike marked my first major purchase and financial commitment to my health. I was trying to think of the last hundred or so things I bought myself and none of them were for the greater good of my health and well being. It felt good, on a personal level to know that I was worth it. And that everyone I asked agreed I was worth it.

When I think of all of the money I've wasted on fast and junk food, not even in my life time, but just in the last year, it probably quadruples the cost of this bike. And she makes me feel so much better, not worse about myself.

Here's to Lulu... and you, my fabulous nine of course xox

you wouldn't believe me if I told you.

but I'm going to tell you anyways.

Y'all (a little diddy I picked up from my vaca in the southern states) know about my trip to defunk myself. Well, it was fabulous and, I think, very benefical.

I had to cut it short (if two weeks is short) because my very adorable neice (nicknamed Pig Badger because if this animalistic sound she makes when pissed off) turned the big O-N-E on Saturday and I desperately wanted to be at her birthday party.

Not too long after I decided to stay down there, and as I watched my husband drive away in our car, I thought I should probably figure out what method of transportation would be carrying me home. Flying was out of the question as Bristol's airport is basically a middle school with a runway and a ticket home ran a whopping 600 bucks.

So a  mere two days before I was to depart I decided to go ahead and book my rental car. I ran into a tiny snaffu when I realized that nearly every rental car company was unwilling to do one-way rentals. wtfghjgidkshvxmcn. shit.

The only one I did find willing to do a one-way rental cost a small fortune. Plus gas.

Cheapness will forever be my downfall.

I decided to take a Greyhound bus, a method of transportation I had not had the privilege of using since I was fifteen and blissfully unaware of the more comfortable sanitary speedier ways to travel. Hell I couldn't even drive then.

The itinerary said it was a 16 hour trip (with two, two hour layovers for transfers) which blew my mind because it only takes us nine hours tops in a car. Should have seen it coming #1.

So I get dropped off at what is supposed to be a bus station, but is in all actuality an auto mechanic's garage with a Greyhound sticker on the door. Should have seen it coming #2.

People were very nice. I made friendly conversation with a nice man going to see his daughter who was soon to be giving birth to his fourth grandbaby. I let him use my cell phone to call her once we got to Knoxville and had to dial it for him because he "didn't know how to work these futuristic toys". Very cute.

All was well until about 10 pm when we stopped in Middle of Nowhere Kentucky at a Burger King rest stop type place. I discovered upon standing up to exit the bus that I had gotten my monthly gift a whole week early. Yippie.

I ducked off to the bathroom and vaguely heard the bus driver mumble something about already being late, something or other about hurrying and then a sort of threat about the next bus not coming through for 12 hours.

I joylessly cleaned my self up as best as I could in the dirty bathroom trying to balance in ways that would best keep me from touching anything. My ass kept hitting the toilet paper dispenser on one side and the cold metal stall door on the other and I never wished harder for a smaller ass than right then.

I left the germ-a-palooza and made a quick call to my husband. Only to glance outside and see no bus.

NO BUS.

I was honestly in denial. I ran outside and circled to building half a dozen times... spotting my bus driving away from me down the highway.

After an offer to ride with a toothless man to Lexington, panic set in. I spotted a Walmart down the road and took off walking. Sobbing uncontrollably but walking.

I called the only person I knew in the state of Kentucky, who just happens to be my BFF, and asked her to come get me. She was three hours away, but she made it in two. She drove me to the bus station in  Cincinnati (another 3 hours away) where I slept on the floor and waited for the next bus home at 7am.

Here's a map of my adventure.

A. is where I started
B. is where I was stranded
C. is where I slept on the floor of the bus station
D. is home sweet home.

Folks. If it didn't happen to me I would have never believed it. My little 16 hour excursion lasted a whopping 23 hours. If I hadn't been cheap, it would have been  nine comfortable germ free hours in a cushy rental. Take my advice. Don't be too frugal.

I made it to the birthday party 2.5 hours late, and very sleepy, but I made it. And you will never. ever. catch my fat ass on a Greyhound again.

In all of my stress I consumed a cheeseburger, french fries, a burrito, cake, ice cream, regular soda, more cake, and mostacholi.

Awful. I know. But no one dared to stop me after my journey through travel hell. Today I am back on the wagon! And I have some very exciting news that I will announce in another post, as to not contaminate it with the negativity of this post.

Thanks for loving me in all of my pessimistic glory xox

Sometimes I Just Get in a Funk...

and it's hard to crawl out of.

I'm almost positive it's hormonal because my periods are so sporadic I wouldn't bet nickel on them. And amongst other things I'm sure my weight has serious "weight" on my hormone levels too.

I tried to do things that would make me naturally happier... like exercise. And eating healthier.

Jungle Gym Therapy

I even found a swingset in the park and swung til my butt went numb hoping it would snap me out of it. Honestly it helped a little :)

My husband suggested that when we took our little four day vacation to visit my family in Bristol that I stay a week or so and get some girl time in.

So that my friends, is percisely why I have been blogingly neglectful.

I've had tons of fun... you heard about my biking adventure I'm sure.

We've been doing lots of girly things like:

• We broke out the sewing machine (that someone bought 3 years ago and was still in it's box).
• We spend a ridiculous amount of the day on the porch swing watching the cows (it happens to be the very spot I am blogging from now)
• I have every intention of learning to crochet before I leave. I have this unnatural favor of winter scarves and it would just fuel my fire if I could make my own.
• We went to a paint you're own pottery place and I made these super awesome one of a kind food and water bowls for my kitty.

Have I ever told you that I have a cat? Well I do... and her name is Callie because she's a calico. Original. I know. She is very ugly, but very lovable which is why she has a home in the first place. I like to think we're better people because we took the ugly kitten. It's a horrible thought, but it's still true.

Anyhow. Back to my funk.

Before I left I went to the doctors to get my annual blood work done and go back on the pill (which has always helped my moods before). The results came back and... drumroll please...

I am completely healthy. I'm fat. But I'm healthy. Figures.

So I got to thinkin, one of those days on the porch swing, maybe I've felt like this for longer than I thought... but since I ate at any and every sign of emotion (good or bad)  it just wasn't as apparent until now.

Could it be? Was ice cream my anti-depressant? Is all of this funk just from the lack of my beloved high fructose corn syrup? It's a strong possibility. Getting stronger every day.

Maybe I'm just angry inside. Angry that lettuce doesn't taste like pie. Angry that comfort food only comes in horrible things that clog arteries and promote stretch marks. Angry that even though I know all of the facts and figures if someone wasn't looking I'd choose the blueberry muffin over... well just about anything else. It's so freaking frustrating to know the hold this food has over me!

It will pass. This I am sure of that. But it sure is a pain in the ass now.

I will say it's helped so much being able to read blogs from Roxie and Robin and Bitchcakes  . Their progress is a fat free calorie free sugar free carb free pick me up and that's precisely what I needed.

Keep up the good work kids and stay out of the funk xox

I am experiencing technical difficulties. What else is new.

UPDATE:
Please completely disregard the following post until I figure out how to resolve this issue with out falling off the face of the earth. I tried the suggested method only to find that although I changed my URL to correct the typo (woopsie) the reader feed didn't work. And without the reader feed how are you supposed to read me??? That's how I read you!

In talking to the google techies in the forum I've found it to be much to difficult for my pea brain to comprehend why exactly it must be so complex.

So until further notice my people I shall remain your DAIRY queen xox






I have just been informed by my loving spelling bee champion of a husband, that when I registered my URL with blogger I chose dairyofanotsoskinnygirl.blogspot.com... dairy... like as in dairy cow.

Mental forehead slap.

I have updated it to diaryofanotsoskinnygirl.bolgspot.com for anyone who cares.

What this means is that all of my posts and comments will remain intact, but my prior posts, although they may appear in your reader, will be dead links.

Panic ensued when I was told this, but I am assured that by posting this all future posts will link to the new URL and I will not lose my FIVE (what a lovely five you are) followers. pfew. close call.

so... for future reference this is a diary. not a dairy.

although I do like to think of myself as the dairy queen :)

I'm going to need a vacation from my vacation...

And that's such an awesome thing.

I'm on a mini vacation/ family visit which normally would spell T-R-O-U-B-L-E for a weight loss plan. Because we love each other with food. Sugary. Full fat. Wonderful food. This is fact.

But I happen to have the most wonderful understanding rezilliant adaptable family in the world and since they all know about my battle with food and excercize they decided to make this time different.

So...

After a nine hour ride and a sizable nap we all headed out for a bike ride.

Disclaimer: I have not ridden a bike since I was ten years old with the exeption of a very cool (very senior citizen style) leasure bike around my aunts retirement community in Phoenix this past February.

So as we're loading the bikes onto the trailer, my cousin very CASUALLY mentions that the trail we're going to be biking is 17 miles.

17 miles!!!

I started to have heart palpitation at the thought... the sweats set in and  I peed a little in my underpants.

She soon began to justify it by saying it was mostly downhill and it was a very leisurely ride.

Well. Leisurely wouldn't have been my choice of words exactly.

You can view my mountain here. That's right I said mountain.

I will say that it was quite a bit down hill. But not completely. And surprisingly I was more prepared than I thought. Turns out riding a bike is just like... well riding a bike.

But I was much more prepared than my ass was (I think I now know what it's like to have a rectal exam and pap smear simultaneously). Also, I couldn't get the hang of shifting into lower/higher gears for like the first five miles. Which I'm sure contributed to my pain.

And honestly it really didn't matter how downhill it was because the constant changing terrain of the trail and small muddy patches kept me peddling most of the time.

I was named most likely to take a dive on my bike by my family. I will say that I was not the first to go down. I was the second. And I wanted to cry like a bitch. But I didn't. View my battle wounds below.

It felt worse than it looked. Trust me.

Just in case any of you decide to bike down the Creeper Trail at Whitetop I have a tiny piece of advice. Tiny. If you see this:

hmmmm bad omen?

Please listen. Do not ride over the barricade netting because you may be forced to do this:

Carrying/ Pushing our bikes around bridge under construction

We had to carry or push our bikes across not one. Not two. But Three bridges that were down or under construction. Some of which required balancing (in which I do not excel) on a six inch wide board and shimmying across a hole. An adventure sure, but I'm kind of a delicate girl.

Thankfully I wasn't hauling ass quite as much as some of the teenagers which for my sake meant I didn't end up like this:

he didn't see the hole in front of him until he was in it

Thankfully I was spared at a mere 13 miles due to lack of daylight. And let me just clarify. When I say "lack of daylight" what I mean is the complete and total absence of any sort of light. Did we have flashlights? No. Bike lights? Nada. And FYI reflective clothing is only reflective if there is light to shine on it.

Riding my bike in the dark down a bumpy trail (that I was only following based on feeling of the terrain beneath my tires) while bats and other creatures of the night were flying overhead was the most exhilarating part of the day. We literally could not see two feet in front of us. The leader would yell "BUMP" and "BRIDGE" as he passed over them and we would repeat them, telephone style, to the back of the line so everyone was prepared.

 It was... the most miraculous display of teamwork ever. And it basically it made my day.

Two days later now, it still hurts to sit. But a little less. And my husband is still removing his testicles from his colon, but I think in a year or two (when his wounds are a little less fresh) he may come with me again.

I also managed to walk two miles last night in spite of my wounds. Which lights up my life ♥

I'm learning it's Ok to be proud of yourself. Its more gratifying than waiting for others to be proud of you. But it's even more awesome when they are proud of you too.

I promise, to you and myself, to keep eating well, and keep moving on this vacation. Even if it means I'll need a vacation from my vacation :)