So, I don't mean to bombard you with celebrity weight loss pictures, but Kelly Osbourne looks AWESOME! At the Emmy's last night, she looked better than I've ever seen her look. I thought I'd start off this particular entry with a picture of her. Check out those curves!
Last night, we painted our master bathroom. It's now a lovely blue called Ocean Breeze. And tonight, we hung new cabinets, moved in some shelves, and hung a painting. It really looks lovely. The idea was to go for a spa feel, and I think it was achieved. Anyway, while we were painting, all I wanted to do was sing "Painting The Roses Red" from Disney's "Alice in Wonderland." I wonder if I could rewrite the words to the whole song and sing "I'm painting the bathroom blue..." Perhaps I should try.
In preparation for the messy work last night, I changed out of my good clothes and put on yucky ones that I wouldn't mind getting dirty. I went into the closet in the guest room (That's where I'm keeping clothes I'm not using regularly. Wes's unused clothes go in the office closet.) and pulled out my Fat Jeans. Most people have a pair. They're old and baggy and, if you're involved in the theater, usually covered in paint stains that you can trace back to specific shows and, thus, specific memories. Mine have a little bit of white from the picket fence in the Ascot scene in "My Fair Lady" and, if I'm not mistaken, some yellow from a certain brick road of the same color. And that is going BACK! They also have paint from when I moved into my house in Spartanburg. So these pants have been around for a while and seen their share of work. But guess what? My Fat Jeans don't fit anymore. That's right. I've out-fat-ed my Fat Jeans. Gross.
Have I been painting the roses red all this time? Have I been pretending that something is true when it's not? Have I been pretending I'm not all that fat when I really am? This is not a self-loathing thing. I think it really may have gotten out of control without my knowing. I feel fat, but I don't feel THAT fat. It's not like I sweat going up the stairs or anything. I feel like I make DECENT grocery decisions. Yeah, I like cookies and ice cream and soda, but I don't like many store-bought cookies and I don't bake very often. And I buy Skinny Cow ice cream and diet soda. But it's not enough.
Tomorrow, I'm getting up and going for a walk. I've got to start doing some sort of exercise. Which KILLS ME! I really hate exercise. I mean, HATE. Sweating is gross. My heart rate rising is uncomfortable. And, for some reason, exercising makes me really itchy. (No big deal; I'm just the itchiest person alive.) But it's GOT to happen. I'm also going to start going to yoga class. I bought a Living Social deal for a local yoga studio and I'm going to try to get it set up and start going at least twice a week. It's got to change. These Fat Jeans have got to get back to where they once belonged. Which is hanging loosely around my hips.
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