June 17, 2010

Well, this is my second week of being medicated (with actual prescription drugs rather than Mars bars and Folgers Bistro Blend). I feel like poo warmed over. Which is really nasty when you think about it.

I'm so sleepy I can't stand it yet when bedtime comes I'm wide awake watching DVR'd episodes of Dog the Bounty Hunter and Billy the Exterminator.

In between bouts of vomiting from my temperamental gallbladder, that is.

My baby girl weaned herself this week so I made my husband take me to get new bras yesterday. I went down a whole cup size, but my boobs are so deflated these days that I don't really notice. From DDD to DD. I guess I know where the 5 pounds I lost went. Now instead of some milk filling in the voids of the fleshy pouches otherwise known as my boobs they're filled with air. Or nothing rather. They just hang there until I fold them up neatly and nestle them in my new bra.

Which brings up the next item. Yesterday I was trying on shorts at Lane Bryant (Hey! Let's put these fat lady clothes on the mannequins but pin them in the back so they look normal! We don't want the women shopping here to get a complex!) and I could have worn a 20 if it hadn't been for my stupid lower stomach.

Instead of just a little pooch or whatever I've got a full-blown fanny pack, made of flesh, permanently attached. When the hell did I become a marsupial? Forget Babyhawk, maybe I can just slice it on open and place my baby in the pouch. If it were 1992 and said fanny pack were, say, day glo orange or pink and I had a flew slap-bracelets on hand then maybe I'd be okay.

Until then I am contemplating:

A) cutting off the flab with my fancy Santoku knife and then giving myself an impromptu boob job by stuffing the flab inside my deflated boobs

B) performing liposuction on myself with vodka anesthetic and a ShopVac

C) contacting the creator of Spanx and asking her if there is any possibility of a permanent pair of Spanx that will adhere itself to your flesh, preferably in bodysuit form, and to please hurry up because I'm totally dying over here

D) becoming a full-time hermit

On the plus side, in case of national emergency I can most likely store water like a camel.

June 4, 2010

And the plot thickens.

I, the self-proclaimed fat mom, have an honest to goodness medical condition that prevents me from losing weight.

I have hypothyroidism!

God only knows how long it's been untreated. I read that it can cause pre-term labor, acne, your hair falls out, you can't sleep, and a sleugh of other issues.

I am so glad that someone actually believed me! I am not crazy!

Okay, maybe I am.

That's all I have time for now. I haz a tired. Goodnight!