<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861</id><updated>2012-02-16T08:46:39.466-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Swallowed By a Fat Girl</title><subtitle type='html'>The ramblings of a woman obsessed with food</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>42</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-7416690968926464013</id><published>2009-12-27T15:40:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-27T16:03:36.152-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy New Year</title><content type='html'>The trouble with New Year's resolutions is that there is too much I want to do. Too many areas for improvement. I want to take better care of my health, save money, be a better housewife, a better Christian, a better mom. I need to spend more time writing, more time reading, more time cleaning, more time exercising - and yet there aren't any &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;more&lt;/span&gt; hours in the day. My biggest task is trying to decide how to make some resolutions that are both realistic &lt;em&gt;and &lt;/em&gt;doable. So here are my biggest areas for improvement and some free thinking about how I might achieve change while still maintaining some level of sanity:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;My personal time. I want to spend more time in personal devotion, prayer, and Scripture. I want to set aside a chunk of time every day for silent meditation, prayer, and reading. Now the only time there is silence in my house is when I first get up. 5:00am is when I have some time all to myself - but I'm usually on &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;facebook&lt;/span&gt;. I think I'll need to make a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;facebook&lt;/span&gt;-cutting resolution in order to achieve half of my resolutions.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My health. I need to be much more aware of my body and it's needs. I turned 38 last week and I am reminded of how close to 40 that is. And I keep hearing and reading about how once you hit 40 everything is that much harder. I hear the metaphorical clock ticking... two more years to get myself in shape... two more years to lose the weight, gain the muscle, lower the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;BMI&lt;/span&gt;... I'm not an idiot - intellectually I know how it's done. I know I need to cut back calories, get more exercise, eat more fiber, drink more water, avoid trans fats, more veggies, less fried foods. I know I need to get more aerobic exercise and I know not to &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;neglect&lt;/span&gt; the weight training. Sometimes I feel like my whole body is just falling apart - my physical therapy isn't working anymore so my arthritis is coming back in leaps and bounds. And I know carrying this extra weight is not helping me. I have this new, strange pain in my hip - sudden and piercing it comes randomly and stops me in my tracks. And I know it's a combination of getting older and carrying way more weight than my hip joints can handle. And I'm not morbidly obese or anything - how do those people who have 100 pounds to lose feel? How do they walk around and not feel pain? In my mind I can visualize being slender again, limber and graceful, feeling lots of energy and being happy with how I look. So somewhere in here is a resolution. But how to make it manageable... that will be another post altogether.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My house. Ugh - my house. I am a terrible, terrible housewife. My house is cluttered and unkempt and I spend way too much time looking for things that have been lost amidst the chaos. Now a good place to start is my good friend's blog, &lt;a href="http://orgmgmt4moms.blogspot.com/"&gt;Organizational Management for Moms.&lt;/a&gt; She's a full time stay-at-home mom and I am in awe at her skills. One of her posts on that blog was about a cleaning calendar that you can get to keep your house clean by telling you what to clean every day. I'm planning on downloading the calendar to see how I like it. I'll let you know how that goes. My thoughts for this resolution is something like "I will spend an extra thirty minutes every night cleaning the house." That might be doable.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Think I have enough work to do? Sigh. It's a lot, right? And it shows how unsatisfied I am with myself, which may be another post altogether. But 2010 is a whole new year - a clean, fresh slate. A slate on which I can write my own changes. And with God's help, maybe I can make some good changes and be that much happier with who I am. Wish me luck!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-7416690968926464013?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7416690968926464013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/happy-new-year.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/7416690968926464013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/7416690968926464013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/happy-new-year.html' title='Happy New Year'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-3461021797306790559</id><published>2009-10-25T07:32:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T07:53:59.315-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Brief Health Scare</title><content type='html'>I haven't written blogs for a while. I just haven't had the energy to address my brief &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;little&lt;/span&gt; health scare that came on with no warning and consumed half my life. It all started when I was reading a magazine one morning...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read an article about a woman who, while drinking a glass of wine one night, discovered that she had intense pain in her lymph nodes. 'Hey,' I thought, 'That's just like me!' You see, I, too, experience pain in my jaw and neck lymph nodes when I drink alcohol. I don't drink very often, so it really was not a big concern for me. But here's this article, and I figured I would keep reading and find out why I would have this pain. Turns out this woman discovered that pain in the lymph nodes when you drink alcohol is a symptom quite specific to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Hodgkin's&lt;/span&gt; Lymphoma. Wow. Interesting. 'Okay,' I thought, my heart racing, 'Surely there are other reasons for this. Surely I'm not walking around completely healthy except for some lymphoma!' So I googled it. And I got a million sites that talked about lymphoma. So I re-googled. And googled again. I phrased it in all different ways: "pain in neck with beer," "lymph nodes hurt wine," "alcohol and lymph nodes," and so on. And each and every time my computer popped up a screen with a long list of lymphoma sites. Ugh. And so began the doctor visits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to one doctor who didn't even feel all of my lymph nodes or run the one blood test that might indicate lymphoma (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;sed&lt;/span&gt; rate). He just told me to come back if I felt any lumps. I talked to a nurse friend of mine who set me up with her best friend, who happens to be a wonderful internist. I had a complete physical, an abdominal ultrasound, a round of x-rays, and one more round of blood work. All of this to tell me I have absolutely no signs of cancer! Whew! Excellent!! But meanwhile, in the month it took me to have all these tests, I faced the very scary thought of cancer. On the one hand, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Hodgkin's&lt;/span&gt; Lymphoma (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;HL&lt;/span&gt;) has one of the highest cure rates of any cancer. Caught early it has something like a 95% survival rate. On the other hand, someone has to fall into that other 5%, right? I thought about going through chemo, radiation, biopsies, and such. I thought about telling my kids, who already lost an uncle to lymphoma a few years ago. My husband was scared, I was scared - we knew the chances of me having it were slim, but still - every time I googled, I came up with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;HL&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;HL&lt;/span&gt;, and more &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;HL&lt;/span&gt;. When the results came in that everything looked normal, the whole family took a collective sigh of relief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so thrilled to know that I don't have it! I still don't know why I have the pain when I drink, but since I'm not a big drinker, I'm not that worried about it. And now I've got the heads up - I check my lymph nodes in the shower at least once a week. The doctor suggested I do it every month when I do my breast exam, but I'm still too paranoid to wait a full month - I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;can't&lt;/span&gt; help but check myself. So, I know that I will know immediately if there are any changes in my lymph nodes. And, I also have 2 complete sets of blood work so if I do need more blood work in the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;future&lt;/span&gt;, I will have something for comparison. Again, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;HL&lt;/span&gt; has a wonderful outlook when you catch it early, so I'm comforted to know that if I do get it, it will be an early prognosis.  And hopefully I'll die when I'm 100 years old, having never had &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;HL&lt;/span&gt;, and I'll probably die with one hand on my lymph nodes, living forever in paranoia! And that's okay. Sometimes a little bit of worry is a good thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime, all this stress has soured my stomach a bit and I've lost 8 pounds! Woo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;hoo&lt;/span&gt;!! I'm hoping to keep it off, and with the cooler fall weather, I plan on resuming my walking/running again. Here's to getting fit before the holidays hit!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-3461021797306790559?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3461021797306790559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/10/my-brief-health-scare.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/3461021797306790559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/3461021797306790559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/10/my-brief-health-scare.html' title='My Brief Health Scare'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-3801423129425786527</id><published>2009-10-22T14:22:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T14:36:40.416-05:00</updated><title type='text'>America, America, God Shed His Grace on Thee</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/SuCxXGlwojI/AAAAAAAAAC0/ohb5ptOYfLU/s1600-h/flag.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395507364053951026" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 137px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 103px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/SuCxXGlwojI/AAAAAAAAAC0/ohb5ptOYfLU/s320/flag.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Where has true patriotism gone? I am on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;facebook&lt;/span&gt; quite a bit, and am getting discouraged at all of the snide and negative comments about our country and it's politicians. I love being American. I love the freedom that comes with that honor. I love the fact that if I disagree with a politician or a policy that I can voice my opinion, cast my vote, start a grass roots movement - or anything else I decide I'd like to do. I am not trying to take away &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;anybody's&lt;/span&gt; right to free speech. I just miss the days when once the election was over, you were respectful of the President. Agree or disagree, people were respectful. I miss the days when soldiers held the awe of children who saw them. I miss when everyone took their hats off when soldiers marched by, when you put your hand over your heart when the National Anthem came on. And when the opening notes started to play, nobody was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;texting&lt;/span&gt; or chatting or answering calls. Nobody was laughing or jeering Congress. Nobody did anything except put their hands over their hearts and tried to swallow that lump in their throat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I wish everyone felt as passionately about their country as they do about their cell phones. I wish as many people voted for Congress as voted for American Idol. I wish God and country meant as much today as it did 100 years ago. My grandparents taught me a lot about patriotism. My parents taught me a lot about being outspoken for your views, and staying politically active. I hope I can pass all of that and more along to my kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;And to the republic, for which it stands,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;One nation, Under God,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Indivisible,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;With liberty, and justice for all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Amen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-3801423129425786527?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3801423129425786527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/10/america-america-god-shed-his-grace-on.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/3801423129425786527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/3801423129425786527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/10/america-america-god-shed-his-grace-on.html' title='America, America, God Shed His Grace on Thee'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/SuCxXGlwojI/AAAAAAAAAC0/ohb5ptOYfLU/s72-c/flag.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-538136853332952784</id><published>2009-09-20T11:44:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-20T11:56:30.175-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Coupons, coupons, and more coupons!!</title><content type='html'>Almost every single one of my Alabama friends can be found clutching coupons these days. Why? &lt;a href="http://www.thebargainbuggy.blogspot.com/"&gt;The Bargain Buggy &lt;/a&gt;has started the craze, and it's paying off BIG TIME. I must admit, I'm not an avid couponer. When I was in college I was - my roommate and I would collect coupons from every friend and family member we could find, sometimes even grabbing them out of the recycling bins. Back then the Super Big Y had double coupons every Tuesday, and triple coupons every so often, too. We would make our lists, scan the ads, use the coupons, and boy, did it ever help out our grocery bill! Of course, back then we spent any saved money on beer. But that's a blog for another day...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These days, with children and a household to run, coupons are even more precious. And yet, I'm skeptical. Couponing is, after all, time consuming. I need to make the decision - is the money I save worth the time I spend?  Is it worth the gas to drive to Publix in Fairhope? Worth the extra hour on the road to get there? Given some of my friends' results, I'm thinking yes. JS spent $85.00 at Publix yesterday, saving $125.00! Her list of groceries purchased is amazing - my jaw almost hit the floor! And ES regularly shows me her receipts with savings galore. Don't believe me? &lt;a href="http://www.thebargainbuggy.blogspot.com/"&gt;Click here &lt;/a&gt;to check out &lt;a href="http://www.thebargainbuggy.blogspot.com/"&gt;The Bargain Buggy &lt;/a&gt;for yourself - you'll be excited to start couponing, too! For those of you who cannot come to the Fairhope Publix because you live too far away, I would encourage you to call your local Publix and ask about their coupon policies - it's worth a bit of a drive to save 75% off your grocery bill, don't you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, time to stop writing - I need to go to the store to buy a Sunday paper!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-538136853332952784?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/538136853332952784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/coupons-coupons-and-more-coupons.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/538136853332952784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/538136853332952784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/coupons-coupons-and-more-coupons.html' title='Coupons, coupons, and more coupons!!'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-423607848159828898</id><published>2009-08-23T21:00:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T21:39:50.723-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Friday Morning Mayhem</title><content type='html'>Friday morning was worse than any Monday by a long shot. Looking back now, it's pretty comical, which is why I'm writing it down for your amusement. I should explain that Monday through Thursday I am at work at 6:50am and the C-man takes the kids to school. My work is done once I get the kids out of bed, get them started on their breakfast and give them the usual reminders we moms don't trust the dads to remember: "Brush your teeth! Your backpack is right here, snack in the front pocket!" My husband is not an idiot, so I don't really know why I feel the need to give the same reminders every day, but let's face it - moms and dads have different priorities, so I need to make sure the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;kids&lt;/span&gt; get to school relatively clean and orderly. And so it goes throughout the week. Until Friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday is my morning of bliss. I get to sleep a bit later, get to drop the kids off at school - a task I really do enjoy - and arrive at work a bit later, feeling rested and ready for a busy day. Wait a minute, am I dreaming? That's how Fridays are &lt;em&gt;supposed&lt;/em&gt; to go. They don't always. A few Fridays ago I had gone into the living room in the middle of the night so I could get some sleep. The C-man is &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; a fun person to share the bed with - he tosses and turns and even kicks his legs up and down on the mattress like he's running a marathon. All while sleeping peacefully. So I choose the couch. But I digress... This Friday several weeks ago C-man decides to get up early - about 5:30 - which &lt;em&gt;never &lt;/em&gt;happens. He came into the living room and woke me up to ask if I were oversleeping. Very considerate of him. Really. I quite politely ask him to remember that Friday is my one day to sleep in. He apologizes and moves into the kitchen. Our kitchen and living room are only &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;separated&lt;/span&gt; by a half-wall, so it's all open. He proceeds to grind coffee. And grind it, and grind it, and grind it. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Whrrrrrr&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;whrrrr&lt;/span&gt;... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Whrrrrr&lt;/span&gt;! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Whrrrrr&lt;/span&gt;!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Whrrrrrrrr&lt;/span&gt;!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time I thought he was done he would do it again. I honestly thought, 'If I cram it up his behind will it keep whirring??? At least it would be muffled...' He got a good wifely evil glare and I moved into the bedroom, where it was impossible for me to go &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;back&lt;/span&gt; to sleep due to my seething. We had a little talk about my Friday mornings, and I had a run of about three Fridays that were wonderful. Then, a few days ago, my Friday bliss broke down altogether.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things were going so well that morning - I got up at 5:45, which is a bit late for me. I took &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;HRV's&lt;/span&gt; school folder out and took out yesterday's papers. That's when I found her homework. The homework she told me she didn't have. I woke her up and gave her a few minutes to get up and get going. When I presented her with her homework, she commenced to pitching the fit. Wailing and moaning, flailing her arms, throwing her body on the floor - all over three minutes worth of homework. I was very patient and kind - after all, it was Friday! My good day! - until her flailing arms caused me to get stabbed with her sharp pencil. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Oooo&lt;/span&gt;, that hurt! At this point I was steaming mad and tired of the fit. I finally got her to finish the work and get dressed. I barely got them out the door on time, but no worries - I saved a good 5 minutes by throwing a couple of muffins at them and telling them to eat in the car. I'm so smart!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off to school we go, arriving first at the elementary school. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;HRV&lt;/span&gt; hops out and the principal and teachers wave hello. Kisses and hugs and promises to bring home a "G" for the day, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;WMV&lt;/span&gt; gets out to climb into the front seat. That's when I saw it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;W. had sat on his muffin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His chocolate muffin - yes, that's right, &lt;em&gt;chocolate&lt;/em&gt; - muffin had been &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;squashed&lt;/span&gt; and smeared all over the butt of his khaki shorts. "W!!! You sat in chocolate!!!" I shrieked. Behind me I could here the teachers laugh - they all have kids, too. Now I'm losing my mind. "Get in the car!" I cry. We pull away and W. is saying, "I'm sorry, Mom, I'm sorry!" and I'm ranting and raving, "How did this even happen? How do you get half a muffin underneath your bottom while you're strapped in and sitting down??? How? HOW???" Now he's almost crying. "I don't know, Mom, I'm sorry!" I'm trying to calm down, but it's very, very difficult. We're racing back toward the house and I'm trying to figure out &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;what&lt;/span&gt; to do. You see, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;WMV&lt;/span&gt; only had one pair of clean uniform shorts. Why would he need another? It's Friday! I explain his options: a clean pair that's a bit too small or a dirty pair that fits just right. He opts &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;fo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;r the&lt;/span&gt; small pair, followed by a tangle of shorts and shoes and I'm snatching the shorts off of him with a bottle of Spray 'n Wash in my hand. I'm begging him to hurry, and evaluating the shorts - are they too small to wear? He assures me they're fine, so we sprint back to the car. It's now 7:31 and I'm due at work at 7:30. *Sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so I'm late. I'm the boss, so who's going to yell at me, right? But I have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;this&lt;/span&gt; thing about being late - it's almost &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;OCD&lt;/span&gt; in it's intensity for me. Nothing stresses me out more than being late. I worked one job for 8 years and was only late ONCE. I still remember that day... I'm digressing again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally arrive at the middle school and drop off the boy. I smile and tell him it's all okay, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt; him and I know accidents happen. I am successfully squashing the urge to push him out of the car and mow down the car rider traffic director in my attempt to get to work. I'm already late - adding a felony will do nothing to improve the situation. At long last I pull away and am headed to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's when the gas light came on. I'm looking forward &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;to&lt;/span&gt; Monday morning. I'm not sure my nerves can take another Friday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-423607848159828898?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/423607848159828898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/friday-morning-mayhem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/423607848159828898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/423607848159828898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/friday-morning-mayhem.html' title='Friday Morning Mayhem'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-9055389426922428102</id><published>2009-08-19T14:42:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T06:06:59.952-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Push Ups</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/SoxV4PzGwqI/AAAAAAAAACs/xMDvFCJvSaQ/s1600-h/push+ups.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371762880348078754" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 100px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/SoxV4PzGwqI/AAAAAAAAACs/xMDvFCJvSaQ/s320/push+ups.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I've started doing push ups. I used to do 50 of them every morning, and man, did I ever have some beautiful arms! Very defined, but not overly muscular, slender, tan - I loved my arms. I used to even have people comment on my wonderful, strong arms. Now... not so much. The fabulous is now &lt;em&gt;flab&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ulous&lt;/span&gt; - my arms are jiggly and saggy and, well, just plain yuk. But all that is changing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the help of my children, I am keeping track of my progress by using a sticker chart. I really don't need the stickers, but my kids love them they are reminding me every morning to do my push ups. I can't let them down, so dutifully I drop to the floor and do my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;allotted&lt;/span&gt; amount. I started with 15. After the first day, my entire rib cage area felt like I had been beaten with a bat. I've been doing some crunches, too, and my lower stomach was BURNING!! But I felt good - not hurting, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;just&lt;/span&gt; pleasantly sore. This morning I upped it to 18. Now that almost killed me, but I persevered and did them. By next week I'm hoping to be up to 20.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What surprised me is how inadequate I felt. "Only 15 push ups!" I moaned on Monday. "I'm pathetic!" My friend &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;TT&lt;/span&gt; answered "MAN push ups???" Now I have lived in the south for 11 years now, but I am by no means a southern belle. My feminist side growled like a bear when I heard her say "Man push ups." I mean, really - push ups are only done one way, or they're not push ups. And women can do them just as well as a man. So yes, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;TT&lt;/span&gt;, I did MAN push ups. She assured me there was no way she could do even 10 - maybe not even 10"girl" push ups (I'm growling again!). Other people - even one of my guy friends!! - said they couldn't do 10. So I started feeling better about the 15. But when I write it - 18 push ups - it sounds so weenie. But I'm working hard and doing my best, and as long as that is true, I am happy. Maybe 6 months from now when my arms are remarkable again I'll post a picture!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-9055389426922428102?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/9055389426922428102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/push-ups.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/9055389426922428102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/9055389426922428102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/push-ups.html' title='Push Ups'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/SoxV4PzGwqI/AAAAAAAAACs/xMDvFCJvSaQ/s72-c/push+ups.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-7064275178896496327</id><published>2009-08-03T05:54:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-03T06:18:48.370-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Well-Intentioned Saboteur</title><content type='html'>Warnings are often given to the dieter: watch out for those who will try to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;sabotage&lt;/span&gt; your diet! I always thought that was a bit silly - who would deliberately try to screw up a good, healthy thing? Then I realized - it's not deliberate, but it is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;sabotage&lt;/span&gt; for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband is a sweet, wonderful, kind, and considerate man (okay, okay, it's the same guy in a previous post I threatened to rip his head off and shove flowers down his neck. That was a bad day...). Seriously, despite a few faults - and don't we &lt;em&gt;all&lt;/em&gt; have a faults? - the C-man is a terrific husband. He often does nice things for me, which I l&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ove&lt;/span&gt; and appreciate. But sometimes... those nice little gestures are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;sabotage&lt;/span&gt; city!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I was in the shower getting ready for church, thinking about the fellowship dinner that would follow the service. I was making plans to skip the 50 different pasta and potato salads and go right for the green salads. I came out of the shower and smelled it. Bacon. Oh my. But it's okay, the kids can have some bacon and I'll shut the bedroom door and get dressed. A good plan, eh? Too bad my husband greeted me with my very own plate of bacon and a fried egg along with buttered toast. Sigh. See, here it is - the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;sabotage&lt;/span&gt;. And yet, unintentional. So sweet, so kind and thoughtful, and yet... gulp... oh the fat and calories! But I ate it. I ate every bite. I know, I know, I've read the articles that say, "Tell your husband, 'Thank you, sweetie, I really appreciate your kindness, but I am going to stick to my diet and pass on this plate of food!'" Clearly this article was written by a single woman who keeps wondering why she's not married. I could have said something along those lines - I could have hurt C-man's feelings, felt guilty about it, then eaten twice as much as the guilt overcame me causing me to go an emotional &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;roller coaster&lt;/span&gt; of an eating binge. Well, maybe it wouldn't &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;have&lt;/span&gt; been that dramatic! But you see where I am going with this - when the C-man goes out of his way to do something nice for me, I respond by being gracious and accepting because I love him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So where did I go wrong? I could have done a few things differently and still been gracious and kind. I could have eaten half of everything. I could have eaten only the egg then shared the bacon with the children - they would have loved it! And yes, I could have been mature and honest and told C-man that the plate of food he had just cooked was doing nothing for my self-control so please take it away! But again, I just can't help but show appreciation when he does something nice for me. Spineless? You betcha. Happily married? Oh, yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what can you do when that well-intentioned &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;saboteur&lt;/span&gt; crosses your path? Try to identify the problem before it arrives - C-man hardly ever gets up before I do and therefore hardly ever cooks breakfast for me, so this caught be a bit unaware. But I know for next time to eat half the food, or skip the bacon - I have a plan. If your husband, mother, friend, co-worker repeatedly offers you food, dessert, drinks, etc., come up with your own plan to jump that hurdle. Handle it with humor, with grace, with a few good avoidance techniques - whatever works for you and your situation. But be as prepared as possible and when someone throws one at you unexpectedly - do your best and remember: tomorrow is another day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-7064275178896496327?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7064275178896496327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/well-intentioned-sabateur.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/7064275178896496327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/7064275178896496327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/well-intentioned-sabateur.html' title='The Well-Intentioned Saboteur'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-3834884526477422674</id><published>2009-08-01T16:01:00.013-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T16:30:25.361-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Homemade Tortilla Chips and Hummus</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/SnSuZdnWwFI/AAAAAAAAACk/-jNw130nEz8/s1600-h/tortillas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365104808574763090" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 126px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 90px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/SnSuZdnWwFI/AAAAAAAAACk/-jNw130nEz8/s320/tortillas.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;Crunchy and salty - what a combo. I love anything that's crunchy and salty, but alas, most food that falls into that category is not the wisest choice for someone trying to slim down. I recently decided to try to make my own tortillas and hummus so I could have healthy, yummy snack that's also - you guessed it - crunchy and salty. I am pleased to say my attempt turned out delicious, satisfying, and delightfully healthy. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Hummus is one of my favorite foods - I make it from time to time but find it hard to control my portions, since I love it so much. This time I've decided to package it in smaller containers and eat it as a meal instead of a snack - I can have more and it's still a good, healthy meal. If you look around the Internet you can find all kinds of recipes. Many people like their hummus with roasted red peppers or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;calamata&lt;/span&gt; olives - go with what you like, but keep in mind the olives add quite a bit of salt. To make it a la Chef Kim, take a can of chick peas (AKA garbanzo beans) and drain. Throw them in a food processor or blender with several cloves of garlic (I like a LOT of garlic - the flavor is pretty strong, so add a little then taste. Add a little more, and taste...). Squirt in a bit of lemon juice and voila - hummus! Easy, right? Sometimes I add a little olive oil, too, if I'm looking for a creamier blend. Again, it's all about going with what you like. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;To make the tortilla chips, you can either buy the soft tortillas or make them from scratch. As tempted as I was to make them from scratch, I had to opt for the store bought ones. There's just so much I can do! There are a few from which to choose - corn, flour, whole wheat, low &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;carb&lt;/span&gt;... watch the low &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;carb&lt;/span&gt; ones, though - they have artificial sweetener in them. Don't even get me started on artificial sweetener! I chose the whole wheat ones in the hopes they would keep me fuller longer. Take the tortillas and cut them with a pizza cutter into 6-8 wedges. Lay them on a cookie sheet and brush lightly with olive oil (I used an olive oil spray and it worked really well). Sprinkle on a touch of salt (I love sea salt) and bake in the oven at 350. Keep a close eye on them as they tend to burn pretty quickly, but they take about 6 minutes. I ate some while they were still warm and they were amazingly good. I'm getting excited about making some homemade &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;pico&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;de&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;gallo&lt;/span&gt; - another one of my good-for-you faves. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Hope you enjoy! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-3834884526477422674?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3834884526477422674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/homemade-tortilla-chips-and-hummus.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/3834884526477422674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/3834884526477422674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/homemade-tortilla-chips-and-hummus.html' title='Homemade Tortilla Chips and Hummus'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/SnSuZdnWwFI/AAAAAAAAACk/-jNw130nEz8/s72-c/tortillas.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-3440650473276630189</id><published>2009-07-10T12:12:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-10T12:33:05.622-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Curse of the Community Snacks</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/Sld3CHe1bCI/AAAAAAAAACc/yicE7Buqfpc/s1600-h/candy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356881160032316450" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 120px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 119px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/Sld3CHe1bCI/AAAAAAAAACc/yicE7Buqfpc/s320/candy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;We've all seen it - the temptation of the community bowl. Sometimes filled with snack mix, other times candy, a well-intentioned box of doughnuts on a Friday morning... Ugh! So what's a girl to do???? I know, I know - the simple answer is to just say no! Nancy Reagan made it sound so simple! Just Say No!! Honestly, I think it's easier to say no to drugs than it is to pass up a cupcake! Of course, I've always feared jail...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But I digress. I'm offering some solutions below, at the request of a reader. And by the way, Reader, I am praying for you!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Fill the community bowl with veggies. This can get costly, especially if you're the only one buying the veggies. This also can be problematic if the bowl sits out all day - who wants warm, limp celery at 4:00pm? But perhaps a few veggies here and there, perhaps a fruit bowl? And maybe it would catch on!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Start an office-wide Get Healthy program. We've done the pay 'n weigh, where each person pays a small amount of money every week (we've done anywhere from $1-$5). A weigh-in where one person weighs another to ensure honesty and the person who has lost the highest per cent (yes, it's two words) doesn't have to pay the money. At the end of the month the biggest loser takes home the pot of money. We have varied our contests from time to time. One time we did a point system, where every 30 minutes of exercise was one point, and every pound lost was one point. You started each week owing $10, and subtracted $1 for every point you earned. By the end of the week, the goal was to owe nothing. You could come up with your own contest if you wanted - some people find them highly motivating, others don't.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Distract your mouth. I have a friend who has &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;TMJ&lt;/span&gt; and cannot chew gum anymore, so she can't follow my gum chewing advice from the previous post. Maybe she could carry a water bottle and drink it every time she passes the community snacks? Or how about having some Jello to satisfy the sweet tooth? Have a sucker or some hard candy? Maybe Tic &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Tacs&lt;/span&gt;? What about brushing your teeth? Many people won't eat after brushing their teeth either because of the taste or because of not wanting to brush all over again.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;What are some of your tips and tricks???? Post a comment below and share!! You can also &lt;a href="http://lowcostlowcarb.blogspot.com/"&gt;click here&lt;/a&gt; to go to Low Cost, Low &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Carb&lt;/span&gt;, a great blog with some great advice. If you need a laugh, how about &lt;a href="http://cceats.blogspot.com/"&gt;clicking here &lt;/a&gt;to visit my friend's weigh loss blog - it's hilarious! Let's all pitch in to help each other try new things to tackle our troubles and kick the community snacks to the curb!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-3440650473276630189?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3440650473276630189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/curse-of-community-snacks.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/3440650473276630189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/3440650473276630189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/curse-of-community-snacks.html' title='The Curse of the Community Snacks'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/Sld3CHe1bCI/AAAAAAAAACc/yicE7Buqfpc/s72-c/candy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-1198570131366392372</id><published>2009-07-08T11:51:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T12:16:55.088-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Battling Our Blunders</title><content type='html'>Isn't it funny how good friends can connect even when miles apart? I was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;just&lt;/span&gt; talking with my mom about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;identifying&lt;/span&gt; weak spots in our eating habits and I decided to come write a blog about it. Before I blogged, I read my friend's blog on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;organization&lt;/span&gt; in the household, and here's her blog - all about identifying weak spots. &lt;a href="http://orgmgmt4moms.blogspot.com/2009/07/5-biggest-wastes-of-time.html"&gt;Click here&lt;/a&gt; to read it - it's really good!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At any rate, my friend is talking about time management, and I'm talking about waist management. One of the biggest helps I have found is to identify trouble before it arrives. Sit down and decide where you are failing - for me, it's dinner time. I have all the resolve in the world until I get into the kitchen and am surrounded by food. It's just too easy for me to grab a snack out of the fridge, taste dinner while I'm cooking, have a glass of wine to unwind in the kitchen... My solution: gum. I chew gum while cooking. I haven't been able to do this for many, many years - I have an allergy to aspartame (NutraSweet) and ALL gum contains it. Yes, even Juicy Fruit and Big Red have aspartame. But I found a great little health store that carries gum in several flavors that is all natural - no artificial sweeteners!! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Yay&lt;/span&gt; for me!! So away I chew. I pop a piece into my mouth &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;before&lt;/span&gt; I get out of the car at home so I am ready for the attack of the munchies before I even &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;walk&lt;/span&gt; through the front door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Another&lt;/span&gt; area of weakness for me: when someone else prepares the meal. If someone prepares a meal and I decide I am only going to eat salad, all hope goes out the window the minute I am sitting in front of all the good food. My plan to foil the flavors: tell someone my plan! This afternoon before we got &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;ready&lt;/span&gt; for lunch I told my mom I was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;going&lt;/span&gt; to eat yogurt and fruit only. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;When&lt;/span&gt; it came time for lunch, even though I was dying for a hot dog, my mom hadn't cooked one for me - why would she? And even if she had, I would have had to face her with the hot dog on my plate - openly failing in front of someone else is good motivation for me. One warning: please do not ask your spouse or your friend to help monitor your eating and then get upset when they do. Many of my women friends have admitted to asking for help from their husband then getting mad when he makes a comment about that second serving of potatoes. That's not fair and your support system will quickly fade away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what is your weakness? Where do you fail? Be honest! Sit down and go over your day - you already know where you're going wrong, don't you? Come up with a plan of attack - if it's eating out at lunch, leave all credit/debit cards and cash at home. No money = no fast food. Finishing you children's plates the trouble? Serve them much smaller portions - you're less likely to have food leftover and it will help them not overeat at the same time. Or tell them when they are done they need to clear their plates, scraping all food into the trash. Less food &lt;em&gt;and &lt;/em&gt;less work for you! Double bonus! An office birthday party? Tell everyone you'll cover the phones while they're eating cake. There are solutions - we &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;just&lt;/span&gt; need to come up with the plan &lt;em&gt;and&lt;/em&gt; stick to it. That's the hard part! But we can do it - one day at a time - one battle at a time will slowly win the war.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-1198570131366392372?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1198570131366392372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/isnt-it-funny-how-good-friends-can.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/1198570131366392372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/1198570131366392372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/isnt-it-funny-how-good-friends-can.html' title='Battling Our Blunders'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-1738809174859146760</id><published>2009-07-07T12:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T13:13:16.329-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Vacation Trials and Triumphs</title><content type='html'>Vacation - a time to relax, have fun, and live a little. We leave work behind and enjoy our time off in many ways. So why do we always use vacation as an excuse to eat gargantuan amounts of horrible food?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm on vacation! I can let loose a little bit!" we cry. "It's our vacation! I can have dessert on vacation!" we say adamantly. Then, we return. Back to our homes, back to our jobs, back to our clothes - which are the same size as when we left. Are we? It's amazing how &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;much&lt;/span&gt; damage can be done in such a short period of time. I have decided I will NEVER go on a cruise. Why? Because I know me, and I know that I will be glued to the buffet, my eyes glazed over, drool on one side of my mouth, a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;little&lt;/span&gt; gravy dribbling down the other side. I do not have the self control required to walk away from a cruise unscathed. In fact, I'm pretty sure I would &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;cause&lt;/span&gt; the boat to list to one side after the first midnight serving of fried stuff. After a few days, they would have to move me to the hull to act as ballast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fortunately, I am not on a cruise - I am at my parents' house. I arrived feeling brave - I can do this! My father's cooking has helped - grilled salmon, fresh salads, and lots of fruit in the house. Their pool has also helped - a bit of swimming, a cool down after a brisk walk. Of course, there have also been a few hurdles - ribs in homemade sauce, a trip to an all-you-can-eat buffet. And let's not forget the trip to the urgent care center to get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;WMV's&lt;/span&gt; ear checked out - that level of stressed was eased by a can of salt 'n &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;vinny&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Pringles&lt;/span&gt;. *Sigh* Overall, I think I may be able to walk away from this trip without completely blowing it. I would be thrilled to drop another half a pound, but will be h&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;appy&lt;/span&gt; just to break even. I'm trying to steel myself for a gain of a pound or two, but trying desperately to avoid it. I don't want to ruin my vacation with an obsession with food and weight, so I'm trying to be reasonable. They're cooking hot dogs tonight. My plan is to cut one in half and eat it with lots of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;sauerkraut&lt;/span&gt; (I'm drinking tons of water today to counteract the salty &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;sauerkraut&lt;/span&gt;!) and mustard. I'll load up on salad, too, if my dad makes one. I'm hoping having a plan will help me walk away from the dinner table triumphant. *Gulp* Pray for me!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-1738809174859146760?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1738809174859146760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/vacation-trials-and-triumphs.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/1738809174859146760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/1738809174859146760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/vacation-trials-and-triumphs.html' title='Vacation Trials and Triumphs'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-175822294179697258</id><published>2009-07-03T05:47:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-03T10:45:28.839-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Chillin' and Grillin'</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/Sk3iLhgexQI/AAAAAAAAAB0/tX_im9EMaE0/s1600-h/grill.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354184219614430466" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 95px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 122px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/Sk3iLhgexQI/AAAAAAAAAB0/tX_im9EMaE0/s320/grill.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Oh, how I love to grill! Nothing smells better than a charcoal grill being lit. It brings back memories of my family time at Two Lights State Park in Cape Elizabeth, Maine. A beautiful, wonderful park, we would spend the whole day - playing, hiking, watching the surf crash against the rocks, and of course - there was always the cook out. Even now that I am an adult, the grill is my favorite cooking apparatus. With the Fourth of July weekend upon us I thought I'd pass along some grilling wisdom to help us all get through an Independence Day weekend without losing control of our healthy eating plans!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;One great way to enjoy the grill without feeling guilty: vegetable &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;shish&lt;/span&gt; kabobs - check out the "chicken and veggies" post from June 16 to read a good marinate recipe and directions. If you add some chunks of meat to the kabob, that can be your whole meal, and it really helps cut back on the portion of meat you consume. But can you get your whole family on board with veggie kabobs?? Not in my house! Here's how to change some standard grill fare into healthier eating:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ground turkey. Check the label and make sure you buy all white meat - if you get the cheaper dark/white combo you're getting a lot more fat - not cheaper in the long run! Add a bunch of your favorite spices and form into patties - delicious! These are wonderful with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;avocado&lt;/span&gt; slices - keep the slices thin and you'll add some of that good, belly-slimming fat your body needs without adding too many fat grams. Not everyone enjoys a turkey burger as much as I do, so if your family is going to want a more traditional burger, go with ground round over ground chuck to get a lower fat beef, and mix with the ground turkey. You can add quite a bit of turkey without taking away from the taste of the beef burger. And of course, think small!! Not every burger needs to be two inches thick and bigger than a dinner plate! Buy smaller buns (whole wheat buns, too!) and fill up the rest of the plate with veggies.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Chicken. I buy large amounts of chicken and after we bring everything off the grill I throw a heap of chicken on it. It cooks while you eat - if you use charcoal the grill stays hot for a long time - and then I have lots of grilled chicken for the following week. Very easy to bring lunch from home when you have chicken all cooked and ready to go! Don't forget to get the skinless kind!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Fish. You can buy a fish grilling basket that keeps the fish from falling into the coals - it makes some amazing fish! You can also wrap it tightly in tin foil with lemon juice and spices and throw it on the gill that way - very moist and flavorful. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Veggies - if you don't want to do the kabob, try whole or sliced veggies. Eggplant slices are hearty enough to stand up to the grill. Get some spray olive oil and lightly spray them so the spices stick and they don't dry out. Ditto for squash or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;zucchini&lt;/span&gt;. And how about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;some&lt;/span&gt; roasted peppers? Put the whole pepper right on the grill until it turns black. That's right - BLACK. Peel away the skin, slice, and put into a container with olive oil and spices. Great alone or on sandwiches or salads. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hot dogs. Don't do it. Seriously, just don't. The tofu dogs... well, you know how I feel about those. And the regular hot dogs are just too full of fat (not to mention floor sweepings) to make it worth the splurge. The salt content alone will make you retain water and the next morning if you are brave enough to step on the scale - ugh. So, if your family insists on hot dogs, DO NOT cook the whole package! Only cook one dog per person - there won't be one left for you to scarf down in the kitchen while you're "cleaning up." Oh, yes, I know that trick - I perfected it.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;I hope some of these tips will help you celebrate &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Independence&lt;/span&gt; Day - YOUR &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Independence&lt;/span&gt;!! We can be free from junk food, free from unhealthy eating, free from feeling sluggish and fat and jiggly! I want i&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;ndependence&lt;/span&gt; from the fat racks - have you seen some of those clothes???? I want i&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;ndependence&lt;/span&gt; from my couch - give me energy to get my house clean, play with my kids, go out with some friends! And most of all I want &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;independence&lt;/span&gt; from food - I want to learn to eat for &lt;em&gt;bodily&lt;/em&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;sustenance&lt;/span&gt;, not &lt;em&gt;emotional! &lt;/em&gt;I'm getting it - slowly but surely, I really am. Want to join me?&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354259936659611506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 177px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 219px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/Sk4nC1ezn3I/AAAAAAAAACU/Vahb6_CKu0k/s400/fireworks2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-175822294179697258?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/175822294179697258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/chillin-and-grillin.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/175822294179697258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/175822294179697258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/chillin-and-grillin.html' title='Chillin&apos; and Grillin&apos;'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/Sk3iLhgexQI/AAAAAAAAAB0/tX_im9EMaE0/s72-c/grill.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-6123490893880116425</id><published>2009-06-30T09:10:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T09:16:35.485-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Busy, Busy, Busy!</title><content type='html'>Last week was vacation Bible school and I was crazy busy! I had decorating to do - and lots of volunteers who did most of the work!! Yay for volunteers!!!! - schedules to print, supplies to get... plus I worked my regular schedule doing everything else I always do. It was great fun, and totally worth all the long days and late hours. But... my eating habits suffered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent the whole week grabbing this or that, running to the gas station for a slice of pizza, chugging a Coke or a sweet tea on the fly - ugh. The good news is that some of my frantic activity made up for the extra calories, because my weight hasn't suffered that much. The bad news is that now I've gotten in the habit of unhealthy foods and I'm trying to get back on track but my cupboard is bare. My son left for my parents' house this morning, VBS is over, my vacation is next week - things have slowed down enough for me to go shopping and stock up on my almonds and veggie patties. Time to get serious again about my health - I know I'm worth it, but sometimes life just makes me forget. Now I remember and I'm excited to get going once again!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-6123490893880116425?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6123490893880116425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/busy-busy-busy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/6123490893880116425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/6123490893880116425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/busy-busy-busy.html' title='Busy, Busy, Busy!'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-2416812695815877974</id><published>2009-06-22T05:57:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T06:26:29.576-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Not Losing Weight? Eat more!</title><content type='html'>The human body is a cleverly designed machine. Did you know that your body self-adjusts to the amount of calories eaten? Which means that a body that has grown (and grown, and grown!!) &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;accustomed&lt;/span&gt; to 3000 calories per day, you can drop to 2000 calories and start losing weight. Another person used to 1800 calories per day could eat that same 2000 and start gaining. Of course, the body adjusts, and the 3000 calorie-eater who drops to 2000 may not continue her weight loss forever. What all this means is that the smart body can work negatively for some dieters. If you cut back to 1200 calories per day, for example, you may see some great weight loss for a few weeks! But... here's your adjustable body at work... your body will realize that it is being starved, and it will slow the metabolism down. Your weight loss will slow, and even stop. This process is what kept our ancestors alive - when food was scarce, the body was quite efficient in keeping it's owner from starving to death! But it's 2009 - if you are reading this blog, you are not likely to die of starvation. So, when you plateau, how do you kick it back into gear? Eat more!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now this is not license to run out to the nearest fast food joint and cram a couple of Number One's - large size, please - down your throat. Please - learn from my mistakes! What this means is that you can up your calories and do it wisely. Add an extra serving of fruit. And one more of fresh, local veggies. Or increase your protein by an ounce. Have a small scoop of that starchy side you've been avoiding. Slowly add calories until you see your weight start to drop again. As an aside, I should tell you that I don't count calories. To be honest, I just don't have the time. When I write about caloric intake, I know that my food does have calories, and I know the general amount that I am eating, but I base my food choices on the size of the portions and the quality of the food - is it lean, is it fatty? Is it healthy, is it sugary? So when I write about upping or lowering calories, I am speaking in general terms. If counting calories works for you - go for it!! Everyone is different - stick with what works for you. However you track your food, consider &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;increasing&lt;/span&gt; or decreasing the amount as you track your weight loss - or lack thereof. Sometimes playing with the amount of food you eat can be the healthiest way to keep your body happy and working well. Of course, you should be consulting your physician before starting any weight loss or exercise program. Once you've consulted him/her, keep in touch! Call the office or come in for another office visit if you're wondering about your caloric intake. Have your weight, blood pressure, cholesterol, and blood sugar checked when your doctor suggests so that you both can monitor your success! After all, what's the point of losing 20 pounds if you're going to be too sick -or worse - to enjoy it???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Assuming you have your doctor's blessing, give it a whirl - find the caloric intake your body needs to feel good, run well, and keep you on the weight loss track. I've been wondering if I am eating enough, and I got my answer after getting on the scale this morning. Last weigh in I lost half a pound. I decided to increase my food, went totally insane for a day (see previous post) then settled back into some healthy, responsible eating. I increased my food intake slightly and in a matter of a few days dropped a full pound. Now that's what I call sweet success!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-2416812695815877974?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2416812695815877974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/not-losing-weight-eat-more.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/2416812695815877974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/2416812695815877974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/not-losing-weight-eat-more.html' title='Not Losing Weight? Eat more!'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-5305141649890863747</id><published>2009-06-20T15:42:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-20T16:06:28.533-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Good, The Bad, and the Fatty</title><content type='html'>There have been many posts about my successes - and I'm proud of that! But... to be honest, I've had a little slip up. One day of bad, horrible, fatty, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;junky&lt;/span&gt; food. So, in an effort to be completely honest, I am confessing the bad along with proclaiming the good. It's only fair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was J-Day. Junk Day. I'm actually embarrassed to admit how much I ate. Here are my excuses:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm very stressed out!!!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm ovulating so my hormones have gone haywire.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I've done so well, I &lt;em&gt;deserve&lt;/em&gt; a break.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm stressed!! Super stressed!!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have so much to do I forgot to pack my lunch.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I just haven't had time to go to the store for my healthy foods.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm totally stressed to the max!!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;At this point, choose your own... Do any of them sound familiar? As you can tell, I am a big time stress eater. I've posted before that when I am stressed out I will choose to eat and eat until I feel calm again. I think there must be a biological reason for this - eating takes blood away for the brain and to the stomach for digestion - maybe that's why I feel calm. Maybe it's not so much calm as it is sleepy. But I'm getting off track here - yesterday was the worst eating day I've had in two months, and I'm feeling really guilty about it, so here comes the con&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;fession&lt;/span&gt; part. Here's the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;list&lt;/span&gt; of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;everything&lt;/span&gt; I ate yesterday:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;My usual small handful of almonds with black coffee (I was off to such a good start!)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;At 8:00 I ate a hamburger. Yes, that's right - a hamburger. With mustard and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;sauerkraut&lt;/span&gt; and some olive oil-based mayo. (not the best breakfast...)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;At 9:15 ES brought me - at my request - a bacon, egg, and cheese bagel from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;McDonald's&lt;/span&gt; (I inhaled it on the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;playground&lt;/span&gt; in the 85 degree weather).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;At 12:45 I had lunch - Wendy's chicken wings - two orders, one buffalo chicken, one Asian sesame - PLUS a loaded baked potato AND a sweet tea.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;At 4:00 I ate a bunch of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Cheez&lt;/span&gt;-Its out of my child's lunch box.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;6:30, on the way home from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;WalMart&lt;/span&gt; I washed down a Heath bar with a cherry 7-Up.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;7:30 - dinner was two tacos, loaded with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;tomatoes&lt;/span&gt;, onions, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;jalapenos&lt;/span&gt;, cheese, meat, black olives and hot salsa. Served with a little scoop of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;refried&lt;/span&gt; beans. Drank two glasses of Country Time lemonade with dinner.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;9:00 - drank a glass of milk to tame all the hot stuff I ate on my tacos.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;So there it is, in black and white. Ugh. Makes me feel sick just looking at it. And fat. It makes me feel fat. But I have decided not to take one bad day out of 60 good ones and use that as the excuse to give up. I'm back on track today, and refuse to let yesterday beat me down. I am going to brush myself off - the crumbs, that is - and look forward, not back. And please pray for my resolve - pray that I will jump right back into the good, healthy eating and never have to hang my head and post my confession again. *Sigh*&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-5305141649890863747?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5305141649890863747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/good-bad-and-fatty.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/5305141649890863747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/5305141649890863747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/good-bad-and-fatty.html' title='The Good, The Bad, and the Fatty'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-980955445972358576</id><published>2009-06-16T05:24:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T05:42:25.362-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Chicken and Veggies</title><content type='html'>Marinated veggies is my new passion. It all started with the veggie &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;kabobs&lt;/span&gt; I made one afternoon for a family cook out. They were AWFUL! Very bland, a little burned ... ugh. Once I've failed at something, I usually try again. And again, and again, until I get it right. After a few attempts, I think I've finally gotten it right and I thought I'd share the recipe. The secret to these yummy vegetables is the marinating - get them marinating early in the morning and by afternoon you'll have some mighty fine eats. Okay, so here it is, in typical haphazard fashion:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chop your favorite veggies into fairly large chunks. My favorites: whole mushrooms, yellow squash, onions, green peppers, and broccoli. I know, the broccoli is unusual for a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;kabob&lt;/span&gt;, but it's my favorite veggie so I include it in just about everything. I've tried tomatoes, which I really liked, but I don't include those anymore because it irritates me to hear the C-man whine about them. I've also tried carrots, but they were hard to skewer and didn't cook very well - too crunchy. I would like to try &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;zucchini&lt;/span&gt;, but for now I'm sticking with stuff in our garden. The freshness of garden veggies really makes a difference! If you don't have a garden, try a local farmers' market - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; worth the trip. Anyway, take all these &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;chunked&lt;/span&gt; up veggies and put them in a large &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ZipLoc&lt;/span&gt; bag. If you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;have&lt;/span&gt; any meat you want to include, throw that in, too. Drizzle in a bit &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;of&lt;/span&gt; olive oil - don't go crazy - and some of your favorite vinegar. I almost always use balsamic for this - the sweetness of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;balsamic&lt;/span&gt; vinegar goes really well with the veggies. Then dump in whatever your favorite spices are - just watch the salt content if you're going for a healthy meal. I add fresh pressed garlic (if you don't have a garlic press, consider getting one - they're so convenient!), a bunch of pepper, a dash of Tony's, and usually a little bit of cumin. Seal the baggie, mix it all up really well, and leave in the fridge all day. Turn the baggie several &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;times&lt;/span&gt; over the course of the day. When it comes to cooking, you can skewer them and cook them on the grill (soak wooden &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;kabobs&lt;/span&gt; in water so they don't burn) or throw them in the oven and bake them at 350 until the meat is done. I dumped the whole bag into a Pyrex baking dish with some chicken and the whole mess cooked within the marinade for about an hour - talk about yummy and delicious! I made a huge batch and I'm still eating the leftovers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you make it, hope you enjoy it. If you don't want to make it, just wrangle an invitation to my house - you know I'll serve it!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-980955445972358576?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/980955445972358576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/chicken-and-veggies.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/980955445972358576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/980955445972358576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/chicken-and-veggies.html' title='Chicken and Veggies'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-3483171393751619070</id><published>2009-06-11T05:56:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T06:13:42.418-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Pants</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was a good day. Okay, so it was super busy and I had a thousand things to do and only accomplished about 25. But still - because of The Pants, it was a good day. What pants, you ask? And why the capital letters? The Pants are a wonderful pair of Liz Claiborne slacks. They are tan with a raised embroider-like texture and rosy pink pinstripes. They are feminine and beautiful and the best part: they were FREE!! My mom goes to a thrift store that has wonderful clothes at great prices, so any time I visit we always make a stop. A couple of years ago I found The Pants and they had split open a tiny bit in the fly. Because they were damaged, the owner said, "Just take them!" My mom helped me mend them right up, and they were good as new. For those of you who don't know, I react to a good deal like a junkie who has just been given a big bag of crack. I'm on a high for the rest of the day. And no deal is better than free!!! There was only one problem... after wearing them once or twice, I gained 5 or 6 pounds (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;okay&lt;/span&gt;, maybe 10...)and my wonderful pants looked like sausage casing. Then I gained another 5 and I couldn't button them. *Sigh* The Pants sat on my shelf for over a year, and every once in a while I would try them on. Why? I don't know. Maybe just to torture myself. But then I started losing some weight...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been trying on the pants every Tuesday for the past 5 or 6 weeks. Tuesday is one of my office days, so I can dress a little nicer, and I was dying to wear those pants. Slowly but surely I went from being able to button them - without breathing, of course - to being able to sit down AND breathe in them, to getting back to the sausage look. I kept thinking, 'Well, maybe next week. Just a couple more pounds...' Folks, yesterday was the day. I put them on, zipped them up, and found - they fit!!! AND I even had a tiny little bit of extra room in the belly!!! They were comfortable!! They looked good!! The Pants could finally be worn!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wore them all day yesterday without splitting a seam or needing to unbutton. I was on cloud nine. Here is the tangible proof that I have lost weight and gotten smaller. Ah, the joy. You see, The Pants &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;symbolize&lt;/span&gt; more than &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;just&lt;/span&gt; one more item in my closet from which to choose. They are the physical result of all my hard work. They are the reward for all those tofu patties and skipped mac 'n cheese. And they are hope. Hope for continued weight loss, days of feeling good, nights where I have energy, and times of solitude where I allow myself to feel things I don't usually feel: happiness, pride, self esteem, worthiness. The Pants are good. The future is even better. Doing it all through Christ who strengthens me - the best of all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-3483171393751619070?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3483171393751619070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/pants.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/3483171393751619070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/3483171393751619070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/pants.html' title='The Pants'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-5061797551109768702</id><published>2009-06-07T17:21:00.013-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-07T17:52:40.135-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Blackberry Cobbler Adventure</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/Siw978PGWaI/AAAAAAAAABs/kpJUk6NyN3w/s1600-h/blackberries.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344714957772970402" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 130px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 98px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/Siw978PGWaI/AAAAAAAAABs/kpJUk6NyN3w/s320/blackberries.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever made blackberry cobbler? Me neither. But when the C-man told me that we have a ton of bushes in our back woods I thought, "Cool! I can make blackberry cobbler!" Right. Why do I think I can do these things?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grew up in Maine, where blueberries are the berry to pick. They grow on cute little bushes and you can go along picking and eating blueberries just as easy as pie. Or cobbler. Ah, delightful! But blackberries, I found out ... not so easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first foray into the woods I wore regular clothes, including flip flops. Yes, my Southern friends, I can hear you laughing. The first problem was the mud. My flip flops got sucked in twice, but that's okay - pluck them out and move on. The next issue were the branches of the blackberry bushes. Did you know they can move? Oh, yes, it's true! Like something out of The Wizard of Oz, these branches grabbed me and stuck to my skin! Ouch! As I was extracting myself I stepped into a huge pile of ants. Fire ants. The kind that wait to bite until there are a thousand of those little buggers all over you. So, I'm all caught up in thorns, getting bitten by a million ants - did I say a thousand? I'm sure it was a million. I shriek a few times, then go back into the mud, hoping the mud will kill those fu - - uh, those little creatures of God. Now my flip flops are stuck again. For those of you who don't know me, I hate to admit defeat. Tell me I can't do something and it's on like Donkey Kong. Back into the house I go...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I emerge wearing jeans tucked into socks with sneakers. Also a long sleeve shirt. And I am carrying a machete. Yes, we own a machete. Don't ask. I traipse out to the thicket - really more like a jungle - and start hacking away. Along my travels I spy a couple of spiders I can't identify and I hear the constant buzzing of some strange, flying bug. My mind wanders &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;back&lt;/span&gt; to the Native Americans, and I think about how their lives were - walking &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;through&lt;/span&gt; the woods, no jeans, no sneakers - no house with air conditioning, no blackberry cobbler in the frozen section at the local &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;WalMart&lt;/span&gt;. Coming across a thicket of berries must have been wonderful - it meant food, liquid, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;refreshment&lt;/span&gt; ... maybe even life itself. This makes me even more determined. I keep chopping away at the underbrush until finally I get to the berries. I pick about two cups until I am driven away by the mosquitoes. At least, I &lt;em&gt;think&lt;/em&gt; they were mosquitoes. They could have been a couple of errant Navy planes off track from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Barrin&lt;/span&gt; Field. I think I saw one of them carrying off a small dog. But I only need two cups for my cobbler, so I head inside. My arms are covered in scratches, my feel are burning with ant bites, I am sweaty and disheveled. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;This&lt;/span&gt; had &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;better&lt;/span&gt; be the best blackberry cobbler I have ever tasted. Sadly, because of the Pray 'N Weigh, I will &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;only&lt;/span&gt; have the smallest of pieces. *Sigh* The things I do for my family...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-5061797551109768702?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5061797551109768702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/blackberry-cobbler-adventure.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/5061797551109768702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/5061797551109768702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/blackberry-cobbler-adventure.html' title='The Blackberry Cobbler Adventure'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/Siw978PGWaI/AAAAAAAAABs/kpJUk6NyN3w/s72-c/blackberries.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-1197810067362085972</id><published>2009-06-04T21:25:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T21:32:45.616-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Irony</title><content type='html'>I just spent 30 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;minutes&lt;/span&gt; composing a great post about how stressed out I've been this week, even uploading a great picture of Tammy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Wynette&lt;/span&gt; (long story). I finished the post by talking about how I should &lt;em&gt;not &lt;/em&gt;be stressed, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;everything&lt;/span&gt; will be okay, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; so on. I clicked "POST" (or at least I thought I did), but apparently what I clicked was some button that says "Make post disappear never to be recovered no matter what you try."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is not good for my rage. (can you guess the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt; show???)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to post this - I hope - and go to bed before I rip &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;somebody's&lt;/span&gt; head off. The C-man is the only one home who is awake, and I need his head &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;attached&lt;/span&gt; to his body for while - we have closing ceremonies on Saturday and I wanted a family picture. He's currently watching &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Stargate&lt;/span&gt; at about 120 decibels. Maybe the picture would come out okay if after I rip off his head I shove a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;bouquet&lt;/span&gt; of flowers down his neck...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**Hysterical, maniacal laughter**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll post something a bit more sane and on track tomorrow. Time to go to bed and pretend this day never happened....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-1197810067362085972?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1197810067362085972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/irony.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/1197810067362085972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/1197810067362085972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/irony.html' title='Irony'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-3123875913050807237</id><published>2009-05-30T06:57:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-30T07:41:33.728-05:00</updated><title type='text'>And the Winner is.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/SiEhLWpfT3I/AAAAAAAAABc/59CzQqksKmw/s1600-h/scale.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341587111979994994" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 153px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 151px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/SiEhLWpfT3I/AAAAAAAAABc/59CzQqksKmw/s320/scale.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me!!!!!!!! Yesterday was the final day of our Biggest Loser contest at work (otherwise known as the Pray 'n Weigh) and I was the Biggest Loser! I lost 3.34% - 8 pounds - in the month of May. I'm taking the contest winnings - a whopping $24.00 - and heading to the local thrift store to see how many outfits I can get for $24.00. I'll have to post my results later - nothing gets me more excited than a good deal. I really wasn't sure I was going to win - I had resigned myself to losing, actually. I was really sure that another woman would win, and I was trying to figure out a way to be kind and gracious about it, so it was a real shock to find out that I had pulled it off after all. The last Biggest Loser contest I didn't even come close to winning, so I was doubly pleased.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the big weigh-in I was due at a luncheon. *Sigh* The battle continues.... The lunch was at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;O'Charley's&lt;/span&gt;, which is notorious for being tough on a dieter, but I did some research, formulated a plan, and stuck with it. I had the 6 oz grilled salmon, and when I asked them to replace the rice pilaf with broccoli, they were more than happy to oblige. Very nice! The salmon and the broccoli were DELICIOUS, albeit quite salty. I've been drinking a ton of water to try to flush the salt out, but my rings are still fitting a bit tighter than normal. Not a big fan of salt.... The meal came with a salad, and I asked that instead of dressing they &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;bring&lt;/span&gt; it out with some lemon wedges. I squeezed the lemon over the salad, shook pepper all over it, and loved it - YUMMY!!!! It's even better with lime, but I didn't really think to ask for lime for some reason. If you replace dressing with lemon or lime, think of the calories and fat you'll cut out! Not to mention you get to enjoy the light, fresh flavor. Plus, you'll never get scurvy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So how did I lose the 8 pounds, you ask? Just careful eating, plus a sincere attempt to be more active. Here's an example of my daily eating:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;First thing every morning I eat a very small handful of almonds. I eat them before I even have coffee. They start your metabolism going, plus give your body some good fat, which helps you keep full AND combats belly fat. There's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;usually&lt;/span&gt; 10-12 almonds in my handful.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Black coffee - no cream, no sugar. This took a while for me to get used to. I used to load it up with several heaping spoons of sugar AND a bunch of half 'n half. I tried it that way a few days ago and almost gagged - now that I've gotten used to it black the sugar and half 'n half was just way too sweet. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I eat breakfast at work, usually around 8:30, three and a half hours after I get up. I alternate between plain yogurt and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Kashi&lt;/span&gt; vanilla oatmeal. I mix some frozen berries into the oatmeal - yum! Into the yogurt I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;mix&lt;/span&gt; berries, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;GrapeNuts&lt;/span&gt;, and a couple of teaspoons of all natural peanut butter - again with the good fats theory. The trick with the peanut butter is to stick with the all natural. Teddy was always my favorite, but Skippy makes one that is SUPER creamy and delicious and you don't have the oil &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;separation&lt;/span&gt; issues. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Lunch: salad with a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;bunch&lt;/span&gt; of veggies - usually whatever I can pull out of my garden - topped with a bit of hard cheese and a cut up veggie patty. Morning Star makes a veggie patty that they call the "chicken patty," and it's really, really tasty. If I'm out of salad, I eat a veggie patty or two dipped in mustard. As for the dressing, I keep bottles of olive oil and a few different vinegars at work. I drizzle on the oil and vinegar of choice (my favorite is malt vinegar) and throw on a bunch of pepper.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Snack: I try to snack every afternoon, and usually have either a piece of fruit, or some carrot sticks, or a bag of microwave popcorn. No butter, no toppings, just plain old popcorn. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Dinner: this is my hardest time of day. Oh, the food! And I'm starving!! But the C-man is trying to eat healthy, too, so we've been eating a lot more fish, and usually whatever the family eats, I just skip the starch and load up on more veggies. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Nothing after dinner. Nothing. If I even eat one crumb, it's like my mouth becomes a gaping black hole, sucking in every piece of food within a 30 foot radius. I think I ate dust bunnies with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;mayonnaise&lt;/span&gt; one night...&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;No drinks but water. I had been drinking Vitamin Water - love it!!!! - almost every day, but the cost is too high - both in money AND in unneeded calories.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;So that's it. Pretty simple in words, pretty hard in practice. But I'm doing it, and I'm loving the results - I can fit into some clothes I hadn't been able to wear before, and I have energy!! Yes, ENERGY!!! I wake up feeling ALIVE and ready to take on the world! I can stay up later and get some housework done!! Not that you can tell that today, of course. By Saturday morning my house looks like a bomb went off. A bomb filled with dog prints and laundry. Dirty, dirty laundry. But now that I'm eating healthy foods and LESS food, I feel ready to tackle the housework. I may even go to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;WalMart&lt;/span&gt; with both children later. Wait a minute, didn't I write a post about that?????&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-3123875913050807237?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3123875913050807237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/and-winner-is.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/3123875913050807237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/3123875913050807237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/and-winner-is.html' title='And the Winner is.....'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/SiEhLWpfT3I/AAAAAAAAABc/59CzQqksKmw/s72-c/scale.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-2796244133105704943</id><published>2009-05-25T10:43:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T11:28:55.208-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Amazing Soup</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/Shq-bSoNhTI/AAAAAAAAABU/dF84dwZgvoc/s1600-h/soup.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339789684267386162" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 199px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 162px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/Shq-bSoNhTI/AAAAAAAAABU/dF84dwZgvoc/s320/soup.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soup is not my number one choice for food. It's one of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;those&lt;/span&gt; foods that I never choose and never crave, but when I do eat it I enjoy it. I stumbled across a couple of recipes last year, one for immune system boosting and another for weight loss. I combined the two recipes into something all my own, and I love it. It's delicious, it's good for you, it boosts your immune system AND helps with weight loss. I don't eat it morning noon and night claiming you can lose 10 pounds in three days - you might be able to do that, but I'm pretty sure the weight loss would be all water. And - ahem - poo poo. Then you would gain it all back the first time you smelled a potato chip. No, I eat this soup for lunch - a nice big bowl of it. I also might have a cup or two before dinner or with dinner - it's filling! It helps to have the soup instead of pasta, potatoes, or some other evil processed starch.&lt;br /&gt;                                                                                                                                                                          &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm including the recipe below - one thing I love is the actual process of cooking. There's something soothing for me to be in the kitchen, chopping vegetables, stirring the pot, adding the spices and smelling the aroma. I get it from my father, who used to be a chef, and still today cooks an amazing dinner for my mom and him every night. After a long day at work he relaxes by cooking. I could be the same way if I didn't have the deadlines facing me - gotta get that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;meal&lt;/span&gt; on the table so the kids can get to bed at a decent hour. But on the weekends, on holidays, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;have&lt;/span&gt; the time to really do it right, and I love it. So here's the soup recipe - if you make it, hope you enjoy it. If you're looking for another, quicker, recipe, &lt;a href="http://lowcostlowcarb.blogspot.com/"&gt;click here &lt;/a&gt;to visit my friend's blog, Low &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Carb&lt;/span&gt;, Low Cost. She's got a great tuna wrap recipe. Okay, here's the soup: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Put about 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a large stock pot and heat on medium.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Add a few cloves of garlic (I have a garlic press and it's the best thing I've ever bought. Fresh garlic far &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;surpasses&lt;/span&gt; anything you can ever buy in a jar. Or - *shudder* - powdered.)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Once the garlic is just a tiny bit browned - not too much or it will be bitter - squeeze in the juice of one fresh lemon. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Pour in some cumin and curry - about 1 teaspoon for moderate &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;spiciness&lt;/span&gt;, more if you like it spicier. I LOVE it spicy, plus the spicier, the better it is for your immune system.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Stir it for a few seconds, then slowly pour in some stock and some water. I prefer chicken stock, but you can use beef or vegetable if you prefer. Be mindful of the sodium content - it's high! Make sure you add about three times as much water as stock to keep down the sodium per serving.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Here's where your own tastes and imagination dictate what you add. Any veggies you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;have&lt;/span&gt; can go in! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Because&lt;/span&gt; of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;what&lt;/span&gt; we have available in our garden and pantry, here's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;what&lt;/span&gt; I added to this soup this time around: carrots, celery, two onions, a couple bell peppers, two yellow squash, one can of diced tomatoes, and a cabbage. I chop all the veggies into pretty large chunks - I like to feel like I'm actually chewing something, even when it's soup. If you prefer smaller chunks, go for it. It's your soup. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer for at least an hour. I add the cabbage closer to the end of the cooking time so it's not mushy. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Feel free to add whatever your heart desires - in past batches I've added pasta, brown rice, red beans, tofu - the sky's the limit. Dang, now I'm wishing I had bought some tofu...&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Happy cooking!!! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-2796244133105704943?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2796244133105704943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/amazing-soup.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/2796244133105704943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/2796244133105704943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/amazing-soup.html' title='Amazing Soup'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/Shq-bSoNhTI/AAAAAAAAABU/dF84dwZgvoc/s72-c/soup.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-2477687924186649672</id><published>2009-05-21T21:01:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T21:27:05.473-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Just Wanted to Grill a Steak</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/ShYL5pdWzrI/AAAAAAAAABM/_9b7QW94Hxc/s1600-h/grill.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338467493303733938" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 130px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 88px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/ShYL5pdWzrI/AAAAAAAAABM/_9b7QW94Hxc/s320/grill.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What a day. I had a good day at work - all the kiddies were behaving so nicely, all the stuff I ordered for Vacation Bible School came in, the weather was beautiful... and best of all was getting off work at 2:30. I've been working some pretty long days, so when 2:30 rolled around I was sprinting for the door. Picked up the kids and took them to the batting cages as a surprise treat. Too bad &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;WMV&lt;/span&gt; got tanked in the arm with a ball. *ouch* But other than that, we all had some good fun. I was in such a good mood I decided to splurge a bit and get a steak for dinner. I'd be home in time to light the grill, cook some potatoes on the grill, pick some squash from the garden ... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ahhhhh&lt;/span&gt;... All was going well until I got the grill going. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My son came flying inside to tell me that it was starting to rain. I go outside and sure enough, it's raining a bit, and with every drop, steam and hissing are coming from the grill. But wait - a brilliant idea! I have that huge cloth umbrella from our patio furniture! It's sitting right there under the steps! THAT will keep the grill dry! Man, I am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;SOOOOO&lt;/span&gt; smart. I grab the umbrella and head over to the grill. I hold it in one hand while I turn the crank with the other. It slowly creaks open ..... and I look up j&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;ust&lt;/span&gt; in time to see the wasps nest I had knocked loose when I opened the umbrella. And it was falling straight for my face, bringing with it an entourage of wasps. Angry wasps. Oh, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Lordy&lt;/span&gt;, I dropped that umbrella and screamed. Then I screamed, and screamed, followed by some more screaming. All the while running and flailing my arms around and twisting and contorting every way possible. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The up side to this is that by some strange miracle I didn't get stung. I think maybe they were too busy laughing at me to sting. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;distinctly&lt;/span&gt; heard some tiny little wasp laughing, and I'm pretty sure I saw one of them holding his sides with all six legs. Keep in mind, I was determined to have this steak, so after the drama, I still went back to the umbrella, picked it up, and propped it up over the grill. More good news: the steak was awesome. It had been marinating, so it was moist and flavorful, and I took it off the grill while it was still quite rare - just the way I like it. The squash also was excellent, and I did go crazy and enjoy half of a sweet potato, complete with butter. Hey, I was celebrating - I survived my brush with angry wasp death! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-2477687924186649672?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2477687924186649672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-just-wanted-to-grill-steak.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/2477687924186649672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/2477687924186649672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-just-wanted-to-grill-steak.html' title='I Just Wanted to Grill a Steak'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/ShYL5pdWzrI/AAAAAAAAABM/_9b7QW94Hxc/s72-c/grill.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-7791388433429615823</id><published>2009-05-20T05:20:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-20T05:36:36.646-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Ballgame</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/ShPZs4knN8I/AAAAAAAAAAs/Oc00Gaj2ep4/s1600-h/baseball.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337849348487591874" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 135px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 90px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/ShPZs4knN8I/AAAAAAAAAAs/Oc00Gaj2ep4/s320/baseball.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Did you hear screaming last night? Were you wondering what that noise was? Yes, one of my children had a ball game last night, and that screaming you heard was me. I have &lt;em&gt;tried&lt;/em&gt; to tone it down a bit, but the excitement of the game gets to me every time. And these boys just love to play ball. I was the scorekeeper last night, so I had to record all the strikes, fouls, runs, etc. So I was &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; into the game! No trips to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;concession&lt;/span&gt; stand (whew!) no chatting with other parents at the ball park - I was 100% game. I don't know if &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;WMV&lt;/span&gt; is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;embarrassed&lt;/span&gt; by all my screaming, but I love to be there encouraging the boys. "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;C'mon&lt;/span&gt;, you can do it!" I shout. "Run, baby, run!" I shriek. "Oh, good try, boys, good try!" Is it my fault I have to scream in order to be heard way into the outfield? If they made the field smaller I wouldn't have to be so loud! But it was a really good game - our team played some good ball and won the game - not something we always do.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The funniest part of the game was watching the other team's catcher. He's a boy from church, and one that I had in my preschool from 14 months old until he went on to kindergarten. He saw me and said, "Hi, Mrs. Kim!!" with an excited smile - teeth missing in the front, of course. So cute. I waved and told him to watch the game. But he kept turning around and waving, talking to me, telling me stuff. Don't get me wrong, I love to be loved, but I was afraid this poor kid was going to get hit in the head with a bat! The umpire kept laughing as I kept insisting the child turn around and get his head in the game. Who wouldn't love to watch a game like that??&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;WMV&lt;/span&gt; did pretty well, despite crying after being hit with a ball and crying again after he struck out. He's finally getting some really good hits, but now that he is, he's ten times harder on himself when he strikes out. That's hard for a mom. I'm trying to encourage him to feel okay about striking out, and I'm also trying to get him to suck it up and quit crying - he needs to toughen up some. But the mom in me wants to hug him and hold him and cry right along with him. *Sigh* And as the score keeper it was tough writing that "K" in his box every time he struck out. *Bigger sigh*&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But the good news is that there's another game Friday - time for more screaming and cheering, whooping and hollering and hoping these boys all feel great by the end of the game. "Take me out to the ball game, take me out to the crowd...."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-7791388433429615823?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7791388433429615823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/ballgame.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/7791388433429615823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/7791388433429615823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/ballgame.html' title='The Ballgame'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/ShPZs4knN8I/AAAAAAAAAAs/Oc00Gaj2ep4/s72-c/baseball.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-7203146240481607777</id><published>2009-05-19T13:37:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-19T13:52:03.083-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stress!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/ShL89a43neI/AAAAAAAAAAk/ARyLsNsdIzk/s1600-h/stress.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337606640507526626" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 126px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 92px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/ShL89a43neI/AAAAAAAAAAk/ARyLsNsdIzk/s320/stress.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Okay, so we all know that stress is not good for keeping your body healthy. Not only does it affect your blood pressure, it gives people headaches, tight shoulders, and the overwhelming urge to punch someone. And let's face it, a lot of us turn to food in times of stress. "Just a cookie to calm me down." or "I'm having a bad day. I deserve a cheeseburger and fries!" We seem to forget that bad food won't take &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;away&lt;/span&gt; our stress, it will just make us tired and bloated and stressed. We also forget that the best stress buster is exercise. And yet, when I'm super stressed, the last thing I want to do is go for a walk or hit the gym. I want to throw something fatty down my throat then slip into a mini food coma. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now they're talking about cortisol - it's something your body produces in times of stress to pack on belly fat! Yes, that's right - God made our bodies to react to stress by giving us jiggly bellies! Ugh! The horror! I understand the biology and history behind it - we used to be cave dwellers, dying of hunger. Stress-induced belly fat was life saving. But it's 2009, and there's a McDonald's on every block and a pot luck something-or-other every other week. Surely our bodies could hurry up and evolve into lean, mean, fat burning machines. I say we push our bodies into this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;millennium&lt;/span&gt; and go for some stress induced calorie burning! How about every time our bodies feel stress our belly shrinks a little? That would be awesome!! I'd eat a mountain of cheeseburgers then go bungee jumping - I'd be fitting into my old clothes in no time! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ah, but I'm dreaming... I guess this is my way of relieving some of the stress of the day. I need to take a deep breath and somehow make it through my stressful day without grabbing a piece of that delicious looking coffee cake &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;JW&lt;/span&gt; brought in for us. Maybe I'll go tickle some children - holding kids always puts a smile on my face and makes me feel like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;everything's&lt;/span&gt; going to be okay. There's my new mantra - kids, not cookies... breathe in ... children, not chips... breathe out ...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-7203146240481607777?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7203146240481607777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/7203146240481607777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/7203146240481607777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post.html' title='Stress!!!'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/ShL89a43neI/AAAAAAAAAAk/ARyLsNsdIzk/s72-c/stress.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-2179109164025449362</id><published>2009-05-18T05:25:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T05:39:22.130-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Moby Dick</title><content type='html'>The weekend is over and I emerge victorious! I have conquered my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Moby&lt;/span&gt; Dick, my Grendel, my Mount Everest. The weekend is always the worst, worst, worst time for me when it comes to sticking to my guns and not overeating. I always go crazy, snacking, eating out, grabbing my kids' leftovers - it's really ridiculous - I bust my butt all week then wreck everything over the weekend, then bust my butt again &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;just&lt;/span&gt; to break even a&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;t the&lt;/span&gt; big weigh in. SO this weekend I had new resolve - I knew it was going to be a busy weekend, which is really helpful to me. I eat when I'm home, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; when I'm bored. If I have a busy weekend, I'm home less and bored less - no time to eat = less eating crap! Saturday morning - well, the trip to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;WalMart&lt;/span&gt; certainly kept me busy (see former post) - then Saturday afternoon was the backyard social. The kids and I h&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ad&lt;/span&gt; a great time and we knew we were going out to eat, so nobody ate a thing. Yes, that's right, I attended a church function and didn't take a single bite of anything - can you believe it??? The we went home to grab Craig and go out for Chinese. Yes, that's right, Chinese. *Gulp* It is very, very hard to go to an all-you-can-eat buffet and not go insane, but I am proud to say I DID IT!!! I ate boiled shrimp, broccoli and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;bok&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;choy&lt;/span&gt;, one spring roll (less fat and calories than an egg roll), and a cup of egg drop soup. Granted, it was a lot of shrimp and a lot of broccoli and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;bok&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;choy&lt;/span&gt;, but I had nothing breaded, the only thing fried was the spring roll, and I passed on the soy sauce, the duck sauce, and the sweet tea. So I went home feeling amazing. Unlike C-man, who went home and passed out - another bad side effect of eating too &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;much&lt;/span&gt; Chinese food! Sunday was preschool graduation (yes, I cried. Again.) followed by a dance recital with a couple of the little girls from my school, followed by a birthday party. And no - I didn't eat any cake!! But it looked delicious - the party was hosted by &lt;a href="http://littlemrsdomestic.blogspot.com/"&gt;Little Mrs. Domestic&lt;/a&gt;, so you know it was good!! Then back to the house for dinner: grilled salmon, squash and onions - fresh from the garden - and a salad with olive oil and vinegar for the dressing. I woke up this morning at 4:30, too excited to sleep - I made it through a whole weekend. I'm curious to see if it shows on the scale this week. Pray with me that it does!! And even more, pray with me that it shows on my body - and in my clothes!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-2179109164025449362?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2179109164025449362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-moby-dick.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/2179109164025449362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/2179109164025449362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-moby-dick.html' title='My Moby Dick'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-8439978228248561609</id><published>2009-05-16T11:09:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T11:57:04.359-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Morning Madness</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/Sg7mKkTQ-xI/AAAAAAAAAAc/f8IH-WUgGbo/s1600-h/cart.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336455677698177810" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 122px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 112px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/Sg7mKkTQ-xI/AAAAAAAAAAc/f8IH-WUgGbo/s320/cart.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do I go grocery shopping on a Saturday morning with two children? Why? Why? WHY??? Because like a million other busy moms and dads out there, that's the only time I can go. There are a few times during the week when I can go while the kids are in school, and that is a much better idea. But some weeks my schedule is so super packed that I just can't get there until Saturday morning. So it was this week. We sleep in a bit, then get ready for the big trip. First is the list. Gotta make a list, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;HRV&lt;/span&gt; wants to help. Followed by 437 cries of, "Mom, how do you spell...." Followed by 241 screw ups, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;erasings&lt;/span&gt;, and bouts of tears and woe - feelings of worthlessness and failure &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; at 5 years old, she can't remember how to spell "French roast coffee." And we haven't even left the house yet. Here's how the rest of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;WalMart&lt;/span&gt; morning went:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Get shoes on. No, wait, we can't find socks. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Rummage&lt;/span&gt; through the clean laundry pile, find socks. NOW get shoes on. No, not those shoes - they are roller skates. Regular shoes, please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go potty. I know you just went, please go again - I'm not stopping to go pee in the middle of our shopping. Go potty. Go potty. FOR THE LOVE OF PETE, STOP ARGUING AND GO POTTY!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Where's my purse? Has anyone seen my purse? Okay, got it. Get in the car. Wait. Where's my cell phone? Has anyone seen my phone? Hold on, let me call it... Okay, got it. Get in the car. Get in the car. Please get in the car. FOR THE LOVE OF PETE, WOULD YOU PLEASE STOP FIGHTING AND GET IN THE CAR!!!!! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Okay, we're all in the car, buckled up, and off we go. I left the list on the coffee table. *anger building*&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Remembering that one should never shop while hungry, I dutifully swing through &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;McDonald's&lt;/span&gt; on the way. Breakfast for the kids, I am wise and choose only an Egg &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;McMuffin&lt;/span&gt; and black coffee. I throw the hash brown that came with it in the trash before it can tempt me. *Victory!!* Then... Let go of your brother's milk! Let go! Do NOT hit her for touching your milk! No! FOR THE LOVE OF PETE, IF YOU TOUCH HIS MILK AGAIN YOU'RE GROUNDED FOR THE REST OF THE DAY!! Man, I sure do love that Pete...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Finally at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;WalMart&lt;/span&gt;, the trip is punctuated with side trips, turn &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;arounds&lt;/span&gt;, going back to get what I forgot - if only there were a blog that could help me get organized... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;hmmmm&lt;/span&gt; .... &lt;a href="http://orgmgmt4moms.blogspot.com/"&gt;click here....&lt;/a&gt; See now, if I had brought my list this wouldn't be happening. *anger increasing*&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I have gifts to buy - one birthday, three teacher appreciation, and seven graduation - stuff for lunches, stuff for dinners, the all important breakfast, and don't forget wiper blades for my car, brake light bulbs for C-man's car, shampoo, and of course, all the wrapping paper and cards. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Phew. I'm finally done, and I even managed to stick to healthy foods for everyone. Perhaps my mind was kept off of food by the fact that I was shrieking non-stop. "Put that down! No! Get over here! No! We don't need that! No! Get off of that! No! It's not a jungle gym! Don't touch her! Don't touch him! No! FOR THE LOVE OF PETE IF I HAVE TO TALK TO YOU ONE MORE TIME ABOUT ONE MORE THING YOU'RE BOTH GROUNDED FOR THE WHOLE WEEKEND!"&lt;/p&gt;We're finally at the check out lane and by now I'm steaming mad with a killer headache and swearing that I will NEVER go to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;WalMart&lt;/span&gt; with my children again. I pay the bill - cringing while I swipe my card and wondering if my chest pains are the result of the children or the final total - and then we're back in the car. Now it's almost noon and I've made it home pretty much in one piece. I'm excited that I didn't give in to the desire to eat at Waffle House, even more excited to make some hummus for my afternoon snack, and I'm looking forward to the challenge of making it through a whole weekend without completely blowing my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;new found&lt;/span&gt; life of health and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;happiness&lt;/span&gt;. Now if I can just avoid the store for a couple of days, maybe my sanity will return. I know it's out there somewhere....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-8439978228248561609?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8439978228248561609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/morning-madness.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/8439978228248561609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/8439978228248561609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/morning-madness.html' title='Morning Madness'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/Sg7mKkTQ-xI/AAAAAAAAAAc/f8IH-WUgGbo/s72-c/cart.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-4064534518684580370</id><published>2009-05-13T13:15:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T13:31:56.442-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Like a Girl on a Bike</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/SgsO5Y5O5uI/AAAAAAAAAAU/-MnDiyHHTtg/s1600-h/bike.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335374562648319714" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 134px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 156px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/SgsO5Y5O5uI/AAAAAAAAAAU/-MnDiyHHTtg/s320/bike.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"I'm doing it! I'm doing it!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;That's what I've been wanting to say - or shout - lately. I actually have been eating healthy foods, eating less, and yes, losing weight. And I'm not talking about 10 pounds in 3 days or anything - this isn't one of those crazy fad diets. I was down one pound last week, and another pound this week. And I feel awesome, and I feel successful. I feel like a little girl just learning how to ride a bike - wobbling, weaving, but slowly the wheels are turning and I'm getting the hang of it, and suddenly I realize ... I'm doing it! My knee injury threw me off a bit as far as being active goes, but last night I had another evening of two ball games on different fields at the same time, so I did a little running back and forth. My knee was throbbing by the time I got home, but I got to see &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;HRV&lt;/span&gt; pick off two kids as short stop and two kids as first baseman AND I still caught &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;WMV&lt;/span&gt; drilling the ball into the outfield, then sliding into home. It was the happiest I've ever been to scrub dirt out of a pair of pants. Today my knee feels even better, so I'm going to try to get some exercise in soon. Tonight we have church, so I should do a little running around with the kiddies. The hard part will be finding something to eat for dinner that won't blow it for me tomorrow when I have the Pray 'n Weigh official weigh-in. I'm not sure what we're having, but Mama L. is cooking, so it's going to be good and probably not so healthy. Last week I cooked a bunch of broccoli before I went to the fellowship hall and it stank up the whole education wing. &lt;strong&gt;Everyone&lt;/strong&gt; was complaining about the smell, so this week I'm bringing it raw. Raw broccoli and a veggie patty. That should do me just fine, right? Hm. We'll see... But I always hated falling off the bike, so hopefully I'll eat my veggie patty and be happy. And then I'll close my eyes and feel the wind in my hair and hear the faint sound of a bicycle bell... &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;ring ring&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;.... ring ring.... wheeeeeeeee....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-4064534518684580370?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4064534518684580370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/like-girl-on-bike.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/4064534518684580370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/4064534518684580370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/like-girl-on-bike.html' title='Like a Girl on a Bike'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/SgsO5Y5O5uI/AAAAAAAAAAU/-MnDiyHHTtg/s72-c/bike.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-1105493218414338218</id><published>2009-05-12T09:54:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T10:06:16.044-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fruit kills</title><content type='html'>They say fruit is good for you, but I was almost killed by an errant strawberry yesterday. I was in the lunchroom getting all the lunches fixed, when a strawberry came out of nowhere! It was left from morning snack, but I'm pretty sure it hid behind a table leg and waited for me. I stepped on the strawberry, slipped and fell. But it wasn't one of those uneventful little plops onto the floor - oh no. It was a grandiose spectacle. A debacle of comic proportions! My feet flew out from under me and I hit the floor, knee first. On the way down, my left elbow went right into a pudding cup - chocolate pudding went everywhere. My right hand hit a bowl of macaroni and cheese - the Chef &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Boy'R&lt;/span&gt; Dee kind with all the liquid, not the good homemade kind that stays in one big, cheesy clump - and macaroni went flying. I lay there for just a minute, contemplating how much damage I had done to myself. My first thought was that I was going to have to go to the doctor. My knee was in excruciating pain. My second - almost immediate - thought was that I hadn't shaved my legs since Saturday, so how &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;embarrassing&lt;/span&gt; was that going to be? The good news is that I got up and was able to walk and bend my leg and all that good stuff. I cleaned up the mess, served lunch to 30 kids, and made it through the day with ice packs and ibuprofen. It's one day later and I feel better, even though my knee looks disgusting - people actually wince when they see it. But as Dr. C told me, it's all soft tissue damage, so it will be sore for several days, then heal up nicely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So nice try, strawberry, but I won this battle. And next time someone tries to tell you to eat more fruit, remember ... fruit is evil.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-1105493218414338218?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1105493218414338218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/fruit-kills.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/1105493218414338218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/1105493218414338218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/fruit-kills.html' title='Fruit kills'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-3603523163548643800</id><published>2009-05-10T16:14:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T16:34:03.839-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Phone Rage</title><content type='html'>So this post has nothing to do with eating healthy, but I feel compelled to get this off my chest, so here goes. &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/SgdEqyoH5rI/AAAAAAAAAAM/CBkqKyoEsUA/s1600-h/cell.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334307785578899122" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 130px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 98px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/SgdEqyoH5rI/AAAAAAAAAAM/CBkqKyoEsUA/s320/cell.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This morning I was talking with &lt;a href="http://littlemrsdomestic.blogspot.com/"&gt;Little Mrs. Domestic &lt;/a&gt;about how&lt;br /&gt;insane I get when I can't hear someone on the phone. Just a few hours later I had a very frustrating conversation with someone an their cell phone and I got so mad I just about threw my phone out the window. Seriously, I get so incensed it's worse than road rage. It happens most frequently with my hubby, C-man. We have direct connect phones, so we &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;bleepy&lt;/span&gt; each other when we need to talk, and the signal is not always great. So sometimes his voice comes out sounding something like R2D2 and I can't understand a word of it. Intellectually I know this is not his fault. I know he's not even aware his voice is so garbled, and I can't even break in to tell him, because on the direct connect, when one party is talking, the other cannot. So instead of laughing it off and waiting patiently for him to finish, I get FURIOUS, OUTRAGED, and act like a total idiot. Usually in front of my kids. Nice, eh? Also maddening for me is when I try to call him &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; I have a signal but he doesn't. Again, not his fault. But still, I think if I were dumb enough to carry a gun I might end up shooting my phone. This would get expensive, plus I most likely would end up blowing my foot off, so the gun option is out of the question. What I usually end up doing is freaking out for a minute, then I realize how stupid I sound, and calm down. If only I were a drinker I'd probably down a shot of something before hitting the redial button.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why, if I know I do it and I know it's idiotic, why do I allow myself to get so irritated? I just don't know. And I continue to use my cell phone, too. Mark my words, if (God forbid) I ever have a heart attack, I will be found with my cell phone clutched in my hand. The bad reception will put me over the edge. Of course if I can &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;just&lt;/span&gt; continue on with the healthy foods, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;may&lt;/span&gt; not be a prime candidate for a heart attack, so perhaps that can be my motivation. I &lt;em&gt;am&lt;/em&gt; having grilled chicken for my Mother's Day dinner tonight. It's been marinating all afternoon. I'm also &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;marinating&lt;/span&gt; some awesome vegetable kabobs and I can't wait to sit down and enjoy it all. Maybe I'll shut off my cell phone...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-3603523163548643800?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3603523163548643800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/phone-rage.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/3603523163548643800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/3603523163548643800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/phone-rage.html' title='Phone Rage'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Rny9j0W8yUg/SgdEqyoH5rI/AAAAAAAAAAM/CBkqKyoEsUA/s72-c/cell.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-1652587931442612408</id><published>2009-05-09T09:32:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-09T09:56:00.385-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekend Eating Extravaganza</title><content type='html'>Weekends are hard for those of us trying to eat better. At least they are for me. When I'm at work I'm moving around more, more people around to see when and what I eat, plus there's just not a lot of food around at work. But at home ... food, food, and more food!! I'm trying not to go to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;WalMart&lt;/span&gt; until Sunday evening, so there's not so much food in the house all weekend. But weekends involve a lot of food-oriented activities, have you noticed that? This weekend I have a graduation party to attend - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;KS's&lt;/span&gt;, not mine - and you know there will be food there. Tomorrow morning we have the bake sale after church (as an aside, there WILL be cake pops there. Now, I am not a big sweets person, but there cake pops are amazing. They are without a doubt one of my favorite sweets EVER. &lt;a href="http://littlemrsdomestic.blogspot.com/2009/05/cake-pop-making-fool.html"&gt;Click here&lt;/a&gt; to read Little Mrs. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Domestic's&lt;/span&gt; blog about being a cake pop making fool. You'll be glad you did.). And of course, tomorrow is Mother's Day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Mother's Day to all you moms out there!! And our tradition is that we go out to lunch or dinner - so I don't have to cook or clean, of course. I think this year I am going make the request that we grill out here at the house. I'm thinking a whole chicken, cut up, seasoned, and cooked on the grill. I'm also thinking grilled veggies that have been marinated in some yummy homemade dressing. And maybe some sweet potatoes.... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Mmmmmmm&lt;/span&gt;, sweet potatoes..... Great. Now I'm hungry. And as is my problem, I want this meal NOW. I really have a hard time waiting when I get a certain food in my mind - I'm all about the instant gratification. But I'm going to wait, if nothing else than to avoid the all-you-can-eat Chinese food buffet tomorrow. So, if I can stick to my guns and have the cook out tomorrow, it should be good. &lt;em&gt;Very &lt;/em&gt;good and healthy, too!! And if I can &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;just&lt;/span&gt; make it through a weekend without losing my mind and eating everything in my cupboard, I might just beat out &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;TT&lt;/span&gt; in the Pray 'n Weigh. Now THAT would be a good week!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-1652587931442612408?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='here' href='http://littlemrsdomestic.blogspot.com/2009/05/cake-pop-making-fool.html' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1652587931442612408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/weekend-eating-extravaganza.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/1652587931442612408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/1652587931442612408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/weekend-eating-extravaganza.html' title='Weekend Eating Extravaganza'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-5841506713693258904</id><published>2009-05-07T19:01:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T19:08:18.492-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm thinkin' Arby's...</title><content type='html'>So today was not a great day for me, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;foodwise&lt;/span&gt;. At lunch I said, "I'm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;thinkin&lt;/span&gt;' &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Arby's&lt;/span&gt;!" and now after dinner, I'm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;thinkin&lt;/span&gt;' ... I'm a great big lard butt. Okay, so it's not really that bad. I did weigh in for the Pray 'n Weigh contest this morning, and I've lost a half a pound. Not great, but when it's that time of month, I'll take anything!! Of course, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;TT&lt;/span&gt;, whose willpower is AWESOME  and INSPIRING lost a pound and a half, so now I'm really wanting to do better. You can tell how motivated I am by the choice of sandwich and curly fries instead of getting their delicious Nantucket salad. Oh, my, is that ever good! It has cranberries and nuts and stuff in it - yummy! Well, maybe next time...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-5841506713693258904?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5841506713693258904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/im-thinkin-arbys.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/5841506713693258904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/5841506713693258904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/im-thinkin-arbys.html' title='I&apos;m thinkin&apos; Arby&apos;s...'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-8706987580522976504</id><published>2009-05-06T10:46:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T10:59:18.725-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Shifting Fat</title><content type='html'>My body fat is on the move. I'm not really sure why it's moving, or even how, but it's definitely shifting. I've been trying on some clothes - apparently I'm a glutton for punishment - and have noticed that while my pants are fitting &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;surprisingly&lt;/span&gt; well, my tops are now all too small. My jeans are falling off my behind - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;yay&lt;/span&gt;!! - and my tops are bulging at the buttons - ugh. Why would fat want to go to my back? It hardly ever gets rubbed, so why does it want to be there? And just the thought of back fat ... yuck! I'm going to be one of those women with the back cleavage, otherwise known as the back ass. I'm thinking push ups will help - they tone up your shoulders and abs and back quite nicely. Of course, thinking about push ups and actually doing them are two different things - one of which works quite well, and the other ... not so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a lighter note, I did go running last night! Not really on purpose - those of you who caught my post about exercising will know that. No, both of my kids had ball games last night. Same time, two different fields. Plus, I ran into a kid from church who was playing, too, so I was running from one side to the other all night. The theory was to stand in between the two fields and watch both games at the same time. But of course, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;HRV&lt;/span&gt; couldn't find her cap, so I ran to that dugout. Then C-man wasn't paying attention, so I ran to the other dugout to tell him to come watch his daughter bat. Then she was safe at home plate so I ran to the other dugout to give &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;WMV&lt;/span&gt; a pep talk. I ran to pay for the team drinks, I ran to hear &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;HRV's&lt;/span&gt; coach give out the team ball, ran back to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;WMV's&lt;/span&gt; field, ran to watch the church boy hit an in-the-park &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;home run&lt;/span&gt;, and I ran and I ran and I ran. If I could do this every day I'd have it made!! I was pooped by the time we got home, but I felt good, and hopefully some of this running around will show up on the scale. Or in the back fat.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-8706987580522976504?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8706987580522976504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/shifting-fat.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/8706987580522976504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/8706987580522976504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/shifting-fat.html' title='Shifting Fat'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-1213541085997856890</id><published>2009-05-04T16:03:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T16:25:38.867-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The truth about tofu dogs</title><content type='html'>Who do the makers of tofu dogs think they're fooling? Just &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; it's &lt;em&gt;shaped&lt;/em&gt; like a hot dog doesn't mean it's going to &lt;em&gt;taste&lt;/em&gt; like a hot dog. Now, I like tofu, I really do. I put it in stuff I'm eating all the time - always have. I also love hot dogs. I mean, I &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;love&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; hot dogs. I've even dated a hot dog vendor - cute guy, sold hot dogs on the street corner up in Maine. There's something we don't have in the south - street dogs. I miss being able to walk a block or two and get a dog with the works. Don't miss the guy I dated, though. Good hot dogs, bad boyfriend. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Boothbay&lt;/span&gt; Harbor has some excellent street dogs, though. So does New York, so long as you know which ones are good. Some of those guys ... I'm not even sure what kind of meat they're selling. My favorite hot dogs come in a steamed frankfurter bun. Not a hot dog roll - there's a difference. Again, it's a north/south thing. The frankfurter bun is slit into the top, not on the side. Much better for holding the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;mustard&lt;/span&gt;, onions, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;sauerkraut&lt;/span&gt; and the like. Plus, the bread is softer - kind of like Bunny bread. Another thing Maine has is the bright red hot dogs.  Come to think of it, I also dated a guy who sold the red ones. He sold them at his father's ice cream store... He used to give them to me for free and we'd hang out selling ice cream and eating red hot dogs. There's just something about the red ones ... they snap and pop when you bite into them. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Mmmmm&lt;/span&gt;. They'll stain everything you touch, though. You didn't know I was such a hot dog &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;connoisseur&lt;/span&gt;, did you? It runs in my family - my grandfather had a hot dog cookbook - an entire book devoted to meals you could make with hot dogs. When he died, it naturally came to me. And yes, I do know what they put in them - blood clots and hair and lips and ears and a**es and the like. I don't care, I really don't. Perhaps this is part of my problem - I don't care what's in a food so long as I like the taste of it. But I'm trying - here's where the tofu dogs come in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw on a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt; show - I think it was "The Biggest Loser" - a tip about getting soy via tofu dogs and burgers. So, I dutifully went out and bought tofu dogs. Even slathered with mustard and onions and relish, they don't taste anything like a hot dog! I'm thinking about suing for libel on behalf of the hot dog industry. Not that they don't taste good - I don't mind the taste at all. But it ain't hot dogs. I was thinking I might be able to slide one past my picky eater, but he's picky, he's not an idiot. I will keep eating the tofu dogs - they're &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;SOOOOOO&lt;/span&gt; much healthier than a hot dog. But please, tofu guys, please don't insult my intelligence by calling them "dogs."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-1213541085997856890?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1213541085997856890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/truth-about-tofu-dogs.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/1213541085997856890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/1213541085997856890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/truth-about-tofu-dogs.html' title='The truth about tofu dogs'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-4303024218328799203</id><published>2009-05-03T15:55:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-03T16:10:39.490-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Some good friends, a good lunch</title><content type='html'>Some good friends who now live far away showed up unexpectedly today and we all went out for lunch after church. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Mmmmmm&lt;/span&gt;, Mexican food! I didn't even &lt;em&gt;attempt &lt;/em&gt;to eat healthy, but I did find that I was able to stop eating when the plate still had about half the food on it. AND, I saw one of the girls in our little "Pray 'n Weigh" contest at the same restaurant, so I'm curious to see what she had for lunch! The other woman at my table, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Christy&lt;/span&gt;, also has a blog about eating and you have to read it - she is HILARIOUS. To visit her blog, click here: &lt;a href="http://cceats.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://cceats.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;. She ordered a taco salad, but of course it was like 85% meat and cheese, and 15% lettuce. So much for a nice, healthy salad!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Interestingly, I felt like nothing new had happened since they moved away several months ago. I felt kind of boring, actually. Although it was much harder to relax and enjoy a nice conversation &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; I had my two kids with me, and they were fighting and being goofy, as always. *Sigh* I do love my children, but it really can be hard when they're at each other's throats all day long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now I'm off track... I was talking about the Mexican food ... I did save quite a bit, most of which I just sat down and ate. Covered in hot sauce, of course! Now I'm ready for a nap, but I really should be cleaning up around the house. I really think if I could just focus on some housework instead of wishing for a nap I would feel so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;much&lt;/span&gt; better - you know, start the week off right. But no, instead I'm considering taking some Motrin for cramps and lying down for a nap. Gotta love it when hormones come into play! :) Maybe tomorrow I'll spring into action with more energy and better resolve!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-4303024218328799203?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4303024218328799203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/some-good-friends-good-lunch.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/4303024218328799203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/4303024218328799203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/some-good-friends-good-lunch.html' title='Some good friends, a good lunch'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-2401815635147678112</id><published>2009-05-01T05:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T05:49:01.337-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the Weigh-In</title><content type='html'>The scale is my best friend and worst enemy. It is a tangible was to see success or failure. Sometimes, when I know I've gained a few pounds, I can go for weeks without stepping on the scale. But when I'm dieting, look out, baby - I am on that thing morning, noon, and night!! I weigh first thing in the morning - before coffee (I'm sure that cup will show on the scale!!), after peeing (because pee pee is so heavy, you know), before the shower (wet hair is heavier than dry hair as we all know!). When I've had a good day I lie awake in bed and I'm excited - I'm a kid at Christmas, unable to sleep &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; I'm SURE I've dropped at least a pound while sleeping!! Sometimes I have, but often I'm disappointed. And often I weigh several times per day. In the morning, in the afternoon. Before lunch, after lunch - how much did that food weigh? With clothes, without clothes... And so on. It's a sickness, I'm sure. But anyway ... I just weighed in this morning for a contest I'm doing - more in a minute - and I lost 5 pounds in one week!! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Woooo&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;hooo&lt;/span&gt;!! Very exciting for me. Now I know that the first week is always water weight, it's always a big week followed by a not so good week. And I'm okay with that!! And now comes the weekend .... pray that I can stay strong while not running &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;around&lt;/span&gt; at work!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, the contest: I am doing one at work called "Pray 'n Weigh." Every week we all weigh in - there's only 5 or 6 of us - and everyone puts in $1 except for the person who lost the highest per &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;centage&lt;/span&gt; of weight (and yes, "per cent's" preferred spelling is two words, people). Meanwhile, we're all &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;praying&lt;/span&gt; for each other. It's good motivation for me, so I'm happy. And at the end of it all, the person who lost the most total weight gets to take home the envelope of one dollar bills. If five of us put in $1 per week and we do it for a month, there should be $20 at stake. I didn't win the lat time we did it - didn't even come close. So I'm going into this knowing I probably won't win... but ... what if I do????&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-2401815635147678112?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2401815635147678112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/weigh-in.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/2401815635147678112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/2401815635147678112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/weigh-in.html' title='the Weigh-In'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-688680625590015894</id><published>2009-04-30T05:29:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T05:40:33.201-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A slow morning</title><content type='html'>I'm having a hard time getting going this morning. I was up at 5am, the usual time, but it's already 5:30 and I'm still at the computer just in a daze. I've &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;neglected&lt;/span&gt; my classwork this morning in order to read more - yes, MORE - about the dreaded swine flu. We've been cleaning like mad at the preschool, but still... any kind of flu worries me, seeing how kids are coughing in my face on a regular basis. One time a couple of weeks back a kid even spit right into my mouth. That was pretty gross, but man, I love that boy - he makes me super happy every time I see him. Okay, so now I'm rambling. Back to the flu... The weirdest part of my paranoia is that in my mind I'm thinking, "Oh, crap - if I die from the swine flu, they'll see what a mess my house is! I'm probably more &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;susceptible&lt;/span&gt; to it because I am living in a pig sty!!" I'm actually thinking about cleaning my house really well so that in the 1 in a million chance I were to die nobody would see my pile of unorganized paperwork shoved in my dresser drawer. True - I literally have one full dresser drawer of paperwork, most of which could be thrown out, but I never go through it because I find it almost impossible to do anything productive in a room that contains an inviting bed. I go in with good intentions and end up taking a nap every time. *Sigh* My husband is so sweet about it - he frequently picks up and does dishes, and every time I say anything &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;about&lt;/span&gt; not getting the housework done he says, "Don't worry, it'll all be here tomorrow. We can do it then!" Except he seems to forget that not only will the current mess be there, but a whole '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;nother&lt;/span&gt; day's mess will be surrounding it, on top of it, mixed up with it. It's slowly driving me nuts!! I wish I knew someone I could pay to come in and just help me muck out. I used to have a friend I wold pay $20 for a couple of hours of hard core cleaning help, but she's working full time now and can't do that anymore. I'm just going to have to get off my behind and do a deep clean this weekend. Maybe the extra exercise will help whip me into shape! Come on, heavy sweeping and mopping has got to be worth a pound or two, right???? To say nothing of scrubbing the tub! I'll let you all know how this great plan works out...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-688680625590015894?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/688680625590015894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/04/slow-morning.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/688680625590015894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/688680625590015894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/04/slow-morning.html' title='A slow morning'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-617989220165029590</id><published>2009-04-29T14:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T14:21:25.677-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pecan Roll Resistence!!!</title><content type='html'>It's been another busy day, but very productive. See? Wednesdays are just better than Tuesdays, period. I attended a CE meeting this morning where we learned all about facebook, Twitter, bloggin and the like. How cool that I jsut started this and now I was able to go to a meeting and say, "Oh, yeah, I'm a blogger..." as if I knew what I was doing! But the best part of the meeting was my ability to pass up the breakfast foods. I had a nice plate of mixed fruit - very yummy - but there were baskets of sausage biscuits (super yum!) and some treats from Panera Bread, including a pecan roll that Jenny said was awesome. When someone else was going to take a bite, Jenny said, "Giddy up!!" and I almost caved. But no, I remanined strong!! As an aside, Jenny is one of those women who is teeny tiny and drop dead gorgeous, but she's so sweet and loving and awesome that you just can't hate her for being so beautiful! So I passed on the pecan roll and am feeling quite pleased with myself. I am going to continue in my prayers for God's help in all things, but especially my journey to better health - and a good pair of skinny jeans!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-617989220165029590?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/617989220165029590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/04/pecan-roll-resistence.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/617989220165029590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/617989220165029590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/04/pecan-roll-resistence.html' title='Pecan Roll Resistence!!!'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-5721195309052275793</id><published>2009-04-28T20:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-28T21:10:31.604-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesdays</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000099;"&gt;I hate Tuesdays. I really do. Mondays I kinda like - I'm rested from the weekend, I'm ready to start a new week, the kids' things are all ready to go ... it's nice. But Tuesdays? Ugh. Today was one of those typical Tuesdays - I've gotten up at 5am, it's now 9pm. I've run around all day - going here, going there, meeting in the morning, meeting in the afternoon... and yet I feel as though I've accomplished absolutely nothing. And for some reason, annoying things always happen on Tuesday. I had a *delightful* conversation with a mean, narrow minded racist (she's now tops on my prayer list - I find it much harder to punch someone when I've been praying for God to touch their hearts), I had one of my most embarrassing flaws pointed out, albeit quite nicely (the truth hurts, it really does). And I usually eat to calm myself down when I'm upset. Why that is I do not know, but there have been plenty of times I've been upset and grabbed some terribly fattening and nutritionally deficit food and consciously said, "I'll eat until I feel calm again." Weird, eh? Sooooo not normal, I know. But ultimately, despite today's ... Tuesdayness... I ate really well. A few almonds for breakfast, a large chef salad for lunch (with vinegar and olive oil instead of bottled dressing), carrots for an afternoon snack, and a Lean Cuisine for dinner. By the way, carrots do not calm me. Not even a little bit. So now I can't wait to weigh tomorrow!! Have I mentioned that I am obsessed with the weigh in? I know, I know - that's a whole 'nother post. Maybe tomorrow ... it'll be Wednesday - things are already looking up!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-5721195309052275793?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5721195309052275793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/04/tuesdays.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/5721195309052275793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/5721195309052275793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/04/tuesdays.html' title='Tuesdays'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-1209773728056891650</id><published>2009-04-28T06:09:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-28T06:16:58.242-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Exercising</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000099;"&gt;I'm not a big exerciser. But I am very active in the daily stuff - I stand a lot, walk around incessantly, go back and forth to the playground, chase a few kids, play ball in the yard ... one man in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;church&lt;/span&gt; once told me, "With all that running &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;around&lt;/span&gt; you do you'd think you'd be skinnier!" Nice, eh? I'm sure he meant it in the sweetest way possible, but he's right: with all the running around I do, why &lt;em&gt;aren't &lt;/em&gt;I skinnier?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I just can't stand to "work out." The programmed, follow this for 30 minutes, use weights, get those endorphins pumping ... hate it. For a while I was walking at 5:00 every morning, but then it got cold, then it rained, and now I'm having to be at work at 6:50, so at 5 I'm in the shower getting ready for the day. I just can't seem to get motivated to do some aerobic exercise, even though I know it would make a huge difference. I love to watch those "get-in-shape-in-eight-weeks" shows - Bulging Brides, National Challenge - my favorite is The Biggest Loser!! I dream of the day when a trainer will come to my door and force me to work out and work hard until inches just magically slide right off... Everyone tells me I'm not fat enough to go on The Biggest Loser, but I'm thinking if I ate like a pig for a few weeks and packed on another 50 pounds, I could go on the show, lose the 50 PLUS the extra junk in my trunk I already have! Yeah, Craig is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;SOOOO&lt;/span&gt; not on board with that plan. Plus I can't afford to leave my job. How do those people do it??? How can they go on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;TBL&lt;/span&gt; for months and still survive financially? There's gotta be a trick I don't know about...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-1209773728056891650?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1209773728056891650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/04/exercising.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/1209773728056891650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/1209773728056891650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/04/exercising.html' title='Exercising'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-4353930697224635968</id><published>2009-04-27T21:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T21:41:58.883-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm hungry!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000099;"&gt;I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I'm hungry hungry hungry!! Okay, so that's not entirely true. I'm not &lt;strong&gt;that&lt;/strong&gt; hungry - I just want to eat. I wanna sandwich!! Oh, how I love sandwiches! When I die, I want to be buried between two large slices of bread. Seriously, that's how much I love sandwiches. Sweets I could take or leave - cakes and cookies and such I really don't care much about. But anything salty - chips, crackers, pretzels - or anything meaty - hot dogs, hamburgers, sandwiches - oh, Lord, I could eat all night. And I usually do - night time eating is my worst habit. I'll bet I pack in 3/4 of my daily calories between 9pm and 4am. I'll start perusing the fridge around 9 and eat a few things before bed. Then I'm back up before I even fall asleep to eat a couple more things. Then at 1am, 2am, 3am, I get out of bed and snack - a few crackers here, a half a sandwich there ... geez, it's really bad. If I could just NOT EAT between dinner and breakfast I'd have it made. But it's a nightly struggle.... when 5am rolls around I'll see if I've made it without snacking. Okay, now I really am hungry. Stomach growling and all. Maybe if I just go to bed, I will lose a pound by morning (by the way, I am OBSESSED with weighing myself. But that's another post altogether). But I gotta do the dishes. And King of Queens is on- - gotta watch that, I love that show. Tonight is the one where Carrie wears her hair in a bun and Doug hates it. Lol - so funny!! Maybe I'll stand up and do some weights while I watch... yeah that'll work. Okay, gotta go. As always, pray for me!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-4353930697224635968?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4353930697224635968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/04/im-hungry-im-hungry-im-hungry-hungry.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/4353930697224635968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/4353930697224635968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/04/im-hungry-im-hungry-im-hungry-hungry.html' title='I&apos;m hungry!!'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-686653250308283550</id><published>2009-04-27T12:48:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T13:21:44.986-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Did you bring your lunch?</title><content type='html'>That's always the question of the day around here. I work with an amazingly awesome lady - MC - who is beautiful and looks amazing, too. She's very slender and works her butt off (literally) as a waitress a few evenings each week. So everyday one of us will ask, "So, did you bring your lunch?" Followed by a lengthy discussion of where to eat, what to eat, how much to eat.... Ugh. It about kills me every day. But we're trying to get better about bringing our lunches - the money alone is reason enough! Today I got a veggie sub on whole wheat and I added my own tuna to it - made with a tiny bit of olive oil and NO MAYO (mayonaise is my Kryptonite. I love Hellmans - it's so creamy and delicious... Mmmmmm, mayo....). So today I'm feeling pretty good about my choices. For breakfast I had plain yogurt with Grape Nuts and 2 teaspoons of all natural peanut butter. I'm buying into the thoery that if you eat good fats  - olive oil, peanut butter, avacado, nuts - that your body will release belly fat. We'll see if this theory is correct. I've tested it before, but apparently healthy fats mixed with cheeseburgers, fries, chips, and hot dogs doesn't make your body release anything. Except some gas, maybe. So here I go again, a few pounds up and I'm once again determined to get some of this fat off of me. Pray for my strength!! Not to mention my will to exercise!! I'll post about exercising next, I think. Working out - the bane of my existence...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-686653250308283550?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/686653250308283550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/04/did-you-bring-your-lunch.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/686653250308283550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/686653250308283550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/04/did-you-bring-your-lunch.html' title='Did you bring your lunch?'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2575364085178547861.post-5926092188460026292</id><published>2009-04-27T09:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T09:47:34.307-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Why I'm here...</title><content type='html'>Okay, after months of debating, I finally have decided to start my own blog. There are a lot of topics I could write about, but since the main obsession in my life is losing weight - and failing miserably at it - I've decided to cronicle my attempts to lose my baby weight. Of course, my baby is now almost 6, so I really should stop using that as my excuse...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I chose the title "Swallowed By a Fat Girl" becasue "Skinny on the Inside" was already taken. But they're both about the same - I forget that I'm fat becasue I still feel like a skinny girl. And I know that this is because the person that I am does not depend on the type of body that I have, so me - the real me - is the same whether I'm skinny or fat. But I sure would like to be skinny again. *Sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyway, here I am, following my good friend and WONDERFUL blogger (I'll post her blog so you can love her, too!). We'll see how this goes - I'm giving myself one month of blogging before I post my weight or my size in the hopes that I can lose a little bit before I have to post it. Isn't taht where I always am - putting things off in the hopes I can "lose a little weight first?" Thanks for reading - please leave comments!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2575364085178547861-5926092188460026292?l=swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5926092188460026292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/04/why-im-here.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/5926092188460026292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2575364085178547861/posts/default/5926092188460026292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://swallowedbyafatgirl.blogspot.com/2009/04/why-im-here.html' title='Why I&apos;m here...'/><author><name>Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878680222332947038</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
