Saturday, June 4, 2011

Too Sexy for My Jeans (Well, Not Quite)

186.6 lbs. You would think burning 1200 calories in one day would get you somewhere. I’m suspecting sugar intake (sweetened non-fat yogurt and sweetened gluten-free granola). Sugar is inflammatory to the pancreas and the liver. I have emailed Trader Joe’s asking them to come up with a gluten free granola with a lower sugar content. They said they’d look into it. I believe them. Trader Joe’s listens to its customers.

New rules for Presidential candidates: You must appear on “Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader” and win, emphasis on American History, Civics and Geography. I will not name names, but the leading Charismatic Idiot punted the football on a point of American history so basic, it’s practically encoded in our DNA. You know, Idaho (the CI’s place of birth) and Alaska (the CI’s current safe haven and proclaimed beloved homeland although she now has a home in Arizona. John McCain must be ready to hang himself) are awfully close to Canada. Can SHE produce a birth certificate? That isn’t Canadian? I have my doubts. Okay, to be fair (who am I kidding?): She did say “warn the British” but finished with something like “that they couldn’t take away our liberty (or guns?).” That kind of fumble tongue is what causes international incidents. She then went on to say that Paul Revere had rung the bells in the Old North Church. Ain’t nobody ringing no damned bells that night because that would have, in fact, WARNED THE BRITISH (the HMS Somerset was at anchor not too far away. Part of the team that carried out the warning TO THE COLONISTS (who were technically British, I suppose) had to row past the Somerset to carry out their end of the mission; I’m thinking it was Revere. I’d have to go CHECK THE FACTS. (One thing I keep forgetting to look up is whether the Boston Marathon route is linked to Revere’s ride. It is a Patriot’s Day tradition and Revere (and the Minute Men) kicked that off in 1775).

The sad thing is that there are probably good, capable people in the Republican Party who could ably lead the country, but we’re never going to hear about them because they’re getting shouted down and crowded out by the spotlight-hogging fucktards (you heard me) who have shown themselves to lack character and courage, but by God, they sell a ton of books. People of America, we deserve better and it’s about goddamn time we demanded it. We are not a nation of dumb, easily dazzled and misled sheep.

But I digress.

14th inning for the Red Sox and Oakland As. This is why Red Sox fans drink.

I had a bit of a cheat with sweet potato fries at Red Robin today (turkey burger, no bun, tomato slices, lettuce and a very little swipe of the chipotle sauce). I may pay for it tomorrow on the scale, but that would make a change from 186.6. I may have to do another Monster Monday workout.

But that’s not the biggest deal of the day. Or maybe I should say “not so big” deal.

Right now, I’m wearing a pair of size 14 Not Your Daughter’s Jeans with Tummy Tuck Technology. The Triple T allows you to wear a size smaller than you would normally. As previously mentioned in earlier posts, they’re made in the USA. Pricey, but you can find them at Nordstrom Rack for a discount (I don’t know about Marshalls, Ross or TJ Maxx, but I imagine it’s worth investigating).  These are high-waisted “mom” jeans (such a dumbass term), but they are excellent quality garments and worth their cost.

Mine are loose. And I just washed them.

If you are a regular reader, you know that among my Holy Grail garments are two pairs of Levi 501 jeans. These are buried in my storage unit, probably next to the crate containing the Ark of the Covenant (which explains the persistent humming sound). They are, without a doubt, the most flattering jeans I’ve ever pulled up.(from the butt downward. Nothing makes the Great White Belly look good).

Emboldened by the loose (ish) waistband of my current size 14 jeans, I undertook a reconnaissance mission at the Levi’s Store today. I encountered a helpful, very friendly (and kind) salesman named Michael who had no problem with my trying but not buying. He brought a pair of 501s and another pair of “boyfriend cut” (I think they were 511s). Drumroll, please.

The 501s (max waist 30, I think. Size 13), I could pull up but not button. Not a downer though: I COULD PULL THEM UP OVER MY HIPS. This is good, this is progress.

Okay, the 511s. Waist 31, inseam 32: PULLED UP, ZIPPED AND I COULD BREATHE!!!!!! These are lower rise jeans than the NYDJs, so the Great White Belly has to go down even more before I’d wear them (Not muffin tops, FLABALANCHE). They’re skinnier cut through the legs than usual (Look, if you’re plus sized, everything is boot cut unless you’re in jeggings) and they flatter my legs AND BUTT.  (Admit it, Ladies, that’s the biggest priority when we’re shopping for jeans. Why don’t men care as much about their asses? Is it because of the fart lighting obsession?). But I could wear them now , if I want to, that’s the biggest point! Even after sweet potato fries! Oh, Motivation, you move in mysterious ways!

I am going to bust this lousy plateau. One of the things I mentally chant to myself to keep going on the Rotating Staircase of Death or push through the cardio burst (greater speed and resistance on the elliptical, jogging on the treadmill) is this: “Eyes on the prize. Keep your eyes on the prize.”

The prize is still off in the distance, but if I don’t need the binoculars to see it anymore. Every step on the RSoD or elliptical is a step closer to it.

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