And You Doubted Me

Slightly Disappointing Says…

I told you that I’d be back.

Of course, I didn’t expect it to be quite this soon.  Yeah, that’s right, I’ve successfully gotten myself to 260.  Actually, to be technical about it I am at 259.8.  I HATE putting periods after decimals.

How am I doing it?  Sex, Martinis, and Diet Pills.

No, I’m just kidding.  I’m not some idiot girl from Chicago hell-bent on dieting all the wrong ways, killing my body, and causing myself to end up either with brain cancer or months of nonstop eating where I gain 45 pounds.  No one would be that stupid.

I can’t tell you how much being in the 250’s actually means to me.  I will grant you that my scale measures down to 2/10’s of a pound, so I’m as high in the 250’s as I can possibly get without going over, but well…

I remember over 4 years ago weighing 252 and thinking that if I just lost a pound a week I could get myself down 200.  It didn’t turn out that way.

But it’s amazing for me to think that I am this close to eliminating over 4 years of weight gain.  I can get myself back to where I was when I was 25, maybe younger.  It’s amazing to me to think of how long I have been this fat.

Still I eat healthy every day.  I exercise in some form every day.  I am running couch to 5K, though I am pathetic at it, and I look forward to every single day.

From a diet standpoint that is.  I couldn’t be more depressed about pretty much every other aspect of my life.  I need this.

And I will tell all of you, especially Bear if his fat hasn’t overtaken his eyeballs and he can still read this, that I can’t remember the last time I actually felt this healthy.  You can feel the difference of having actual healthy things inside of you after about 2 days.  You can feel the difference of losing a few pounds almost instantly.  And I know that the combination means that I feel a lot better going down to 259.8 then I possibly could have going up to 259.8 while loading myself with fast food and more fast food.  Even if your weight loss is as daunting or more than mine, even if you are still 90 pounds from being a healthy weight, and even then just barely, even if you never make it, losing just a little bit of weight can make a big difference.  Your quality of life changes with a 5 or 10 pound weight loss.

I’m still a hugely fat morbidly obese sick-o that disgusts anyone that has to lay eyes on me, but I’m better than I was, and these words get me through every day:

Hey, I’m better than bear.

Guess who's back?

Lily Says...

So I guess now we just post whenever we want? With no need of commentary? Well then…

I’m a diet fail.

We knew this already though. After the cleanse, I started taking diet pills. That went well… for a while.

About the third week of taking them, I had gotten used to the smaller portions of food entering my body. What I wasn’t used to was the about of pills I was now taking. I take those vitamins packet things you can get at GNC. They have all the vitamins and minerals and extras you need to be healthy. By this time, I was taking 6 diet pills a day, plus about 5 pills from the little packet and a chewable calcium pill.

I was still working at the store when I had the scariest experience with diet pills ever. Like even more scarier than the thought that you can shit your pants while on some (if I weren’t so lazy, I would link an article to prove this.. but you’re already on the internet so Google it, okay?).

I got to work, had taken my pills 20 minutes earlier, and went to go buy a Subway breakfast sammy. My boss let me sit in the back and eat my breakfast. I took my time eating, and felt super fine. I was staying hydrated, and what nots, and for some reason, once we opened the gate, I started feeling super dizzy. This had never happened before. I’ve taken diet pills in the past, one of different brand, and one of the same brand I was currently taking. I sat in the back room for the rest of my shift. Hey, at least I got paid.

I stopped taking the pills that day. So if anyone wants a half bottle of diet pills, hit me up.

Along with not taking the pills, I threw out my healthy eating mode. I also gained about 5 pounds. But at least it went to my butt and boobs, and about 1.5 of those pounds joined my mid-section.

Also, in the time we have spent apart, dear Blogging Blobs readers, I learned that I will no longer be a bridesmaid (which was the reason I had begun dieting). Depite this, I will continue to strive to be fitter, because really being tubby isn’t what I want to be. The tubby I do want to be is pregnant, and you don’t get that kind of tubby from eating (you get that kind of tubby through Cardio!).

I’ll keep you updated on my progess (of getting un-tubby).

You know, that overused Mark Twain quote

Slightly Disappointing Says...

I'm not dead, but I was probably closer to dead than most of you realized.

I went on vacation back in late March.  This won't surprise any normal readers but because I went on vacation, Blogging Blobs came to an absolute halt.

It didn't get any better when I got back.

Actually, "back" was the problem.  I got a staph infection on my back, and well, two surgeries later I'm still not completely recovered.  IT'S BEEN ALMOST 3 MONTHS.

I won't bore you with the details, mostly because I have a gigantoloctocus post going up over on my other site, but I will tell you how this pertains to dieting.

It was kinda hard to diet.

First of all, I couldn't exercise.  My sum total of actions that I was able to do over this amount of time was as follows:

1.Sit in chair
2.Eat food
3.Hand off bed pan

Even as I got better and was able to stumble around it was hard for me to lift my arms up to what I like to call "cooking food on stove" height.  It was miraculously easy, however, to receive food through windows.  Thank God I was born in these times.

I ate fast food non stop.  There were multiple times when I fell asleep eating fast food. I once saw a poll that 50% of men would take 10 years off of their life if they were woken up every morning with a blow job.  Well, let me tell you, those men never even thought of the pleasure of waking up with a half eaten double cheeseburger resting on their bulging stomach.  That's what Heaven is like.

My weight went up, and up, and up.  I know this because I had doctors appointments every few days, and they would weigh me, and even though they frequently cut things OUT of me, I was still able to put more INTO me.  This was until I got up to 281, and decided enough was enough.

That was about 3 weeks ago, when I started eating healthier because I felt like crap, and about 2 1/2 weeks ago I started exercising.  Exercising like a mofo.  And you know mofo's are committed champions of healthy living.

The result?  I'm now at 265.  And 265 means another picture.

I know the other blobs are out there.  So far as I can tell Lily continues to make commitments she can't keep, Lorraine continues to be some sort of raging Blogspot whore writing in about 95 different blogs because she thinks that Internet friends are real friends, or something like that.  The Bears continue to be depressed at their infertility by eating loads of chicken wings.  At least, this is how I imagine all of them to be.

Thus, I won't e-mail this to them, but they are free to edit/write in the comments.  They won't.  They are all failures.  If you have been reading from the beginning, you already knew this to be the case.

Anyway, 265...

Still trying to wear the same shirt.  Still don't think I ever actually look different.  This is depressing.  I'm going to go eat pizza.

I'll see you again.  I promise.

Oh!  I forgot!  I'm on a new site called http://www.myfitnesspal.com/  I realize those of you with smart phones probably have a better stuff, however this one is pretty good for tracking food/exercise.  There is also a bit of social networking.  If you are on this site, friend me.  I am "Bretsyboo."  You'll get daily updates like "Bretsyboo tried to run today"  and "Bretsyboo lost 75 calories masturbating for 2 minutes."  So it's a lot of fun, and also, 75 calories can add up.  If you know what I mean...

I Hate Success

Lorraine Says: It's no secret really that I'm basically an Internet whore. Luckily, I'm writing this entry and NOT sending it to the rest of the Blobs, who I'm pretty sure are all dead. (Actually, I think I got an email from Lily sometime last week, about being too lazy to blog on another blog we share, so maybe she's just a missing person at this point and not entirely dead.)

I say luckily because I can already hear Bret and all his "whore" jokes which morph into racist jokes which all just translate into, "I'm still a fat fuck and picking on people much, much, much hotter than me makes me feel better about myself." There, there Bret.

ANYHOW, me = loves the Internet. I have my main blog, Childhood Trauma, 2 Tumblrs, Twitter, Facebook, a (semi-abandoned) music blog, I mod at 20sb, etc, etc, etc.

And then, there is this.

Oh, Blogging Blobs. It truly is a great idea. 5 overweight bloggers doing the weight loss thing together, with some combination of humor and demotivation.

It was a good plan for me. Why? Because I really am not a fan of other people's success. I mean, not as a general rule, but especially when it comes to weight loss.

I suppose that fact has a lot to do with where I've been during this period of Blob silence. I mean, the simple fact is that writing for a diet blog is pretty difficult when you aren't dieting, ya know? There wasn't any exercise happening either.

I wish I could blame it on one thing or another, but really, all the reasons I'd gained the weight in the first place overcame me again: laziness, chocolate, busy work schedule, big life changes, chocolate, dessert, the eating habits of a third grader, and laziness.

On top of that all, people around started losing weight. My older cousin, nicknamed on my blog as Ferfer, moved back to Florida a handful of months ago. Fer is a notorious weight yo-yo-er. And I'm pretty sure she's tried every lose weight quick scheme ever.

She's also the most pushy bitch ever. I mean, I love her, but she will argue with you about the sky being purple, and not blue, if one day she decided the sky was purple.

Well, after gaining a shit ton of weight during her last pregnancy, and holding onto most of it even after her daughter was born, she decided that enough was enough and that she was going to lose weight the old fashioned way: puking and corsets.

JAYKAY. Diet and exercise.

Her pushy self went around telling everyone that they were fat and gross and that they should come to her house where every day they would be using her covered patio as a makeshift gym. My sister and my good friend Venus drank the kool-aid.

And it's worked. Sometime during my silence, these girls have been working their asses off and slimming down and toning up thanks to some workout videos and dedication.

...
...

GAG.

It's fucking terrible. Fer was after me constantly asking me when I was going to join and the more I was pressured, the more I was positively reinforced, the more I didn't want to do anything healthy.

And it worked. Any progress I made during my Blogging Blob stint was completely erased. Two and a half weeks ago, I stepped on the scale for the first time in months and I was nearly back up to my original start weight: 148.

Holy. Shit.

It felt gross. It felt horrible. And the worst part was that there wasn't even anyone around to point and laugh or make comments about how I must not be getting any Exercise or must be missing the famine part of my Ethiopian diet.

With the Blobs all dead (RIP) and my body quickly chunking up out of control, I decided to take a positive step in the right direction.

Step one: The less-of-a-fat-ass diet.

What? It was a baby step and a good one at that. Two and a half weeks later I'm back down to 143. Five pounds? That's about the equivalent of what Bear eats in one sitting, so I'll fucking take it.

It feels good to be back down, but I'm trying to ride the wave of motivation and success. Step two will be the "move-more-than-a-fat-ass" portion of my plan. I'm dying to start the couch to 5k program, with an actual 5k in mind to run at the end of the summer.

I mean, sure I keep putting up excuses like, "I don't have running shoes," or "people get raped and killed when they go out running," but maybe now that I've announced it to the entire interwebs I'll try harder to make it happen.

I'll do my best to check in this time next week.

Goal: Three pounds to 140. 1-fucking-40. I'm gonna look so hawt.

Avoid these pitfalls: My new job is located in a plaza with a Chipotles, Yougurtland and a Starbucks. WHAT THE HELL? My co-workers take field trips down to one or all of these places on the regular and saying no all the time is no fun. (Sounds like my sex life?) I've probably indulged more than I should, but for the sake of my bank account and my body, I must say no.

Do these things: I need running shoes  and OMG, where do I even start? 

For real this time guys.

For real.

The Cleanse

Lily Says: Last week, I was on spring break and decided it would be an awesome time to do a full body cleanse.

I went over to GNC and bought the least intensive looking box. I bought this on a Thursday... I started it on Friday.

Almost immediately after taking the first little packet of pills and some "probiotic" dust, I had to go empty out everything extra I've been carrying around. Perfect. At least I was at home. Came out feeling 5 pounds lighter.

The problem was that you had to do this routine twice a day. And Friday nights are Cardio nights. And problems ensued. I didn't really feel any urgency in leading up to cardio. I just kept burping alot, I do this all the time anyway so I didn't really think much of it. But as we kept going, I started feeling like I needed to go AT THAT MOMENT. I couldn't just get up and leave. I'm like a teenage boy, and have no sense of priority when I have to chose what to do first: sex, or everything else. Obviously, I chose sex.

As much as I wanted to just go to the bathroom, I couldn't. And it just kept going...

This was super hard, I was trying to enjoy the sex that was going on, but I couldn't because I started getting a horrible pain in my stomach and what I believe to be every other organ in my body. So it came down to the decision of whether I should fake an orgasm or not just to go to the bathroom.

I weighed the pros and cons of this... I had like a million cons, and only one pro.

I couldn't take the pain anymore, because for some reason, my boyfriend decided to lay directly on top of me when he was finishing... which I thought was strange. Because of that, I decided to fake it. I haven't faked it since ... a long time ago. And because I always go pee after we're done, it didn't seem suspicious.

Well, it was a waste of a fake orgasm. Because I didn't even have to empty my bowels when I went to the bathroom. I peed and farted. And not even a loud, cool smelly one. A stupid little girly one.

What. The. Fuck?!

Well, that was the same story for the rest of the seven days of the cleanse. Was it worth it? Fuck yes! Six pounds lighter. Would I sacrifice another orgasm for a fart? Yeah, probably.

Lorraine Says: Lily this disturbs all of my female sensibilities. Or something.

Mostly, it's about the grossest story that's ever been told on Blogging Blobs. This even takes into account back when Bret and Bear used to be super fond of telling us "hide the sausage" stories.

No, wait. That was grosser.

At least you know you still have the skill to fake an orgasm? I mean, no woman wants to think she's lost that touch, in case of emergency.

Six pounds though? Six pounds o' poo?
I am both intrigued and scared.

Lily Says: Well, it wasn't just poo. It was also a liver, heart, kidney etc cleanse. So there was lots of pee too.

I like to think that faking an orgasm is a good trait to have.

The good thing is this story wasnt a "sex poo" story.

Bear Says: Faking orgasms so you can fart? That's got to be one of the greatest most disgusting stories I've ever heard.

Where can I get this cleansing thing again? for a 6 pound drop I think I can do without Cardio for a few days.

Lily Says: Answer is: GNC

Push It

Lorraine Says: This week was not a great food week. I mean, there were no crazy sausage shenanigans, like the ones Bret is famous for, and I didn't drink my weight in vodka a la Lily, so in perspective, it was terrible but it wasn't great either. When I slipped up on my diet, I made it count. Cheesecake, in fact, seemed to be the theme of the week.

I only had a slice, promise. PROMISE.

But I ate all of this. Yep. All of it.

But that's not what I'm here to talk about really; I'm here today to convey to you all my strong dislike of Jillian Michaels.

See, I'm a weenie that doesn't like to work out by herself. When Rox can't gym, I might walk with Penny. When Penny can't walk, I'll go work out with my good friend Venus. Venus' poison of choice is a slew of work out videos (er, DVD's) she buys, sort of like one would buy crack. Or wait, how I would buy zebra cakes.

Anyways, whenever I'm working out with her, she subjects me to Jillian.

Now, I understand that Jillian hasn't really done anything to me, exactly, but you're also talking to the girl who's most viewed post is all about how much she hates that bitch Dora the Explorer. (I almost wrote 'Dora the fucking Explorer.' That just sounds like a terrible porn. Different sort of Cardio, folks. Different sort.)

Anyways, here's what I hate:

1.) Don't fucking tell me I'm doing a good job. I'm not sure what sort of condescending prick decided we need positive reinforcement from SOMEONE WHO CAN'T SEE US. Venus bought a new DVD the other day, a Dancing with the Stars one, and we sat on her couch eating crackers and watching it, laughing every time the dumb girl told us we looked great. Thanks lady.

2.) When she tells me to "push it." Uh, no.

3.) When this ho doesn't even do half of her own exercises and then tells me not to give up.

4.) When she is doing the exercises, and talking at the same time, not even out of breath, while I'm dying.

5.) Her face.

I've pretty much given into the fact that the morning gym will never ever happen for me. It's not the waking up, it's the getting out of bed, and putting pants on and stuff that gets to me. So, I'm going to try and do some of this Jillian crap in the morning.

Let's see how this goes.

ETA: It went for like 10 minutes before I wanted to puke. Jillian must be onto Lily's method of puke-ercise.





St. Patrick's Day Let Down

Lily Says: So it's Tuesday again.

And let me tell you about the last two pounds I lost. But I was sad about losing them.

I really wanted to go out drinking on Thursday. Because everyone is Irish on Saint Patrick's Day. My friends and I decided that we were all going to play hookey from school and work and go to this place called the Emerald Loop.

So, I was all ready to get piss drunk.

I went to my first class because it's at some ungodly hour. Then I got a call from my friend saying she couldn't get out of work.

And then another call saying my other friend had a test in one of her law school classes.

And my other friend saying she felt like crap.

Fine whatever. But then I started feeling like crap too. Friend number 3 and I had gone out for ice cream the night before. I think we both got sick from this ice cream place *cough*baskin*robins*cough*.

Instead of drinking booze and eating corn beef hash, I was puking. I wouldn't have minded gaining 2 lbs, but apparently the Weight Loss Gods don't want me to have fun

Bret Says: Jesus Christ Lily, With how much you puke I would be almost certain that you are officially bulimic, except that bulimic people are supposed to be skinny.

I'm not saying this is a bad thing.  Puke your way to better cardio.  Especially when your teeth fall out.  It's not much for the looks department, but in other areas?  Mmmmmhmmmm.

Bret’s Addendum: oh, and as an aside:

BEAAAAAR BEAAAAAAAR, DO YOU STILL LIVE BEAR?????

Lor Says: No, seriously Lily, you puke a lot. Suddenly, that pink stain on your white shirt, way back from one of the first posts, makes so much sense. Apparently you have a hard time keeping things down or in your mouth. 

Lor’s Addendum: And my aside: BEAR WHERE ARE YOU? Also, I love that Wife comes around but never mentions Bear. She's all, "Oh I'm alive, la la la, nothing to see here."

I think Wife killed Bear. And then maybe ate him. EW. 

Wife says: Poor toothless Lily.  Not sure how you'll be able to eat empanadas now. :(

And, Bear's totally still alive...yeah, alive.  And not stuffed and mounted in the basement.  Nope not at all. *whistles and looks at ceiling*

Bret Says: I thought he was supposed to stuff and mount you?  You are totally doing it wrong.

Lily says:  Re: pic = not puke. (it’s kool-aid or red margarita mix… don’t remember it was like four years ago).

I suspect food poisoning from ice cream. Like really. And it was lots of puke. I spent most of thursday and Friday hanging out with the porcelain throne. 

PS I also have all of my teeth. 

Lazarus Bear Says: Much to the dismay of the group I am indeed still alive. Work's been really kicking my ass these last couple weeks and we've got a major release coming up next month which means work work and more work. 

PS - The stuffing and mounting in our house is totally my job.