Well Crap.

First of all, it's been way too long since I've kept you all updated and posted. This is entirely my fault but I haven't given up and I trust that you're still here to read my tales no matter how long it takes me. Listen, I have news. Not great news but not bad news either. I graduate nursing school soon and the husband has paid for a cruise to the Bahamas in celebration of my accomplishment. (We are going regardless if I manage to make it through this last semester or not.)

 Here is the problem:

1. I do not have a dress for the formal dinner night. Actually, that's a lie. I DO have a dress. I just can't fit in to the damn thing. It hangs in my closet...attempting to look innocent...but it mocks me. I know it's tricks. I have not worn it since after baby number one in Hawaii. I also haven't tried it on since cruise number one in which it was way too small. Granted, I have lost a literal ton some weight since cruise number one, so I'm probably just being paranoid that it won't fit. I just don't want to take any chances of being completely heart broken if it does not. (I would be over joyed if it was too big though!)

2. It's the freakin' Bahamas...in June. It's hot. Not just hot, that's not the right word at all, but so damn hot you have to chew your air to breathe and your shoes melt to the pavement type hot. But that type of hot does not afford me permission to just run around naked. That means I have to wear shorts. This is not something that I wish upon anyone's viewing pleasures. Blonde haired, blue eyed, white girl, problems I suppose.




Here are the good points:

1. I get to go to the Bahamas again.
2. I get to RUN in the Bahamas, that is if I can get off the ship without bursting into flames.

Free Stuff

Well, I have news. Apparently, this FBG blog is popular enough to receive shit in the mail that says, "please try this super crazy, mega awesome, weight loss product that's guaranteed to work without you having to change anything about your diet and exercise routine, and then blog about it." Pretty cool right? Well, the fact that I am popular enough to get free shit makes me smile. That is, until I did a little research and find out the stuff is like extreme colon blow on steroids.

Now, I'm just about willing to try anything to lose my FBG status, but this was possibly going over the line for me. So of course, without hesitation, I gave it to a friend of mine to try instead. (I would much rather put him through the agony and suffering of being a poop machine than to deal with it myself.) After six weeks of flatulence, and no colon blowing of any sort, nor was there any weight loss to speak of, we decided that it just didn't work for him.

After complaining to the company support line that the product didn't work for my friend and I would not be blogging about it, they sent me more free product as if I had been doing it wrong or something. I decided that maybe I should give it a try. I mean I had eight bottles of the stuff. Maybe it was made specially for women or maybe my volunteer did it wrong or maybe it was specific for FBG me instead of anyone else. For six weeks I took four gigantic horse pills at night about thirty minutes after my last meal. Hoping to clog my toilet the next morning.

Cut to 5:30 am. I got nothing but a trumpets echoing throughout the bathroom that first day...and everyday for the next six weeks. I lost friends but no weight and my bowel movements remained normal. I decided that wasn't going to cut it. I changed it to taking the product in the morning before my first meal. Maybe that would get everything on the right track.

Fat chance...It just plain didn't work. I am disappointed but hey, it was worth a shot, right?

Now this isn't to say that this product won't and doesn't work for someone else. I just don't believe it was meant for me to use. I'll stick with my own, historically accurate, version of healthy eating and working out in order to lose my weight.

If you want to try this product I'll send it to you for free! Just email me at fatbottomgirl2013@gmail.com and I'll be happy as a clam to send you unopened product for you to try. (This isn't a ploy to get you to use this product I am honestly just tired of seeing the bottles collecting dust on my bathroom shelves. I promise not to bombard your email with a bunch of junk mail, since I don't sell anything, that should be easy!)

**Disclaimer** I was not paid for the use or advertisement of this product. This product is not FDA approved as it is a dietary supplement. As always, please consult with your physician prior to starting any diet or exercise routine. I am not responsible for any damages to persons regarding the product and the opinions expressed in this blog are mine. Judgments were made as to the effectiveness of the product based on my own diet and exercise routine and obviously everyone is different so please don't expect a miracle product to save us all from being FBG's.

If you have used this product before feel free to let me know how it worked for you in the comments section! I'd love to meet just one person who has actually had some results.

Potty Emergency

We're friends, right?

Like I can pretty much tell you anything and you can handle it?

I know what you're thinking right now, "What the fuck is she talking about?" Well, I think it's time to address the proverbial elephant in the room and talk about potty emergencies.

I'm not talking about the 'I really have to pee' moments that can happen anywhere like in the car, or on a run, or even at work. I'm talking about the times when your stomach cramps so bad that you just might wreck your car. Tears come to your eyes as you double over in pain and you pray for death to come quickly. The times where you start sweating profusely and seriously contemplate shitting your pants just to get rid of the pain! Yeah, those times.





Maybe you have experienced this yourself at some point in time. Maybe you have been able to make it to the bathroom just in time (oh, sweet baby Jesus thank you!) but have you experienced this in the middle of a run about two miles from your end point?

 

What do you do? Do you simply veer off course into the woods and use a sock to clean yourself up? Do you pooper scooper that shit (literally) and take it with you? If you do decide to just go, do you take a picture of it to savor the moment when you are done and send it to your friend? (I bet you do!)

Personally, I have always been able to complete my run straight into a bathroom. I have an irrational fear of spiders injecting venom into my massive ass cheek that prevents me from taking a dump in the woods so thankfully I have not had to poop so bad that I couldn't wait. It is bound to happen though, one day. I have read though that some marathon runners simply shit their shorts and keep on keepin' on. *Insert dry heaves here*

(Side note: In boot camp, if you vomited the Drill Instructors would make you pick it up and put it in your pocket to carry that around with you all day long. It was revolting! I never puked in boot camp. I'd hate to see what they would do if you took a shit on a run.)

Perhaps I should just start running with this?

Comments? Suggestions on how to avoid a potty emergency? Have an epic poop story that just must be shared? Let me know!

The Chub Rub

I went for a run with a friend the other day and she informed me a few days later that she had acquired "The Chub Rub". I, of course, had no idea what she was talking about and immediately burst into laughter. Obviously, I had to ask what it was and apparently it is any part of your body or clothing that rubs against your skin causing friction, irritation, skin loss, and even pain. Basically, when fat bottom girls run, their whole body rubs against itself and this "Chub Rub" can occur. For women, it can occur on the thighs (usually), in the crotch area, and under the breasts, although it can occur other places as well. For men? Well, let's just say it is as unpleasant for them as it is for us. It's like a diaper rash for adults.

I had not personally experienced this hell yet because I normally wear men's biker shorts and a really tight sports bra when I run, preventing the friction. However, when my first pair of biker shorts fell apart at the seams I resorted to using a regular pair of shorts. I then knew what holy hellfire awaited me exactly one day later when I attempted to go for a run again.

The pain was indescribable. It's as if you have torn away layer upon layer of your precious skin and the nerve endings have nothing better to do but shoot pain signals to your brain. Even the slightest touch of clothing on the area is excrutiating. Immediately after my run I went to the store and bought a new pair of biker shorts, powder, bandages, A&D ointment, Vaseline, and deodorant. All the items that were recommended to me as I limped around the track. I was going to try everything to heal this Grand Canyon sized open wound. (Actually, it was more like the size of a nail head but you would've thought I'd lost a limb from the way I was bitching about it.)


They all worked of course, A&D to heal the skin and prevented the friction, Vaseline too. The powder and deodorant absorbed the sweat, the bandages kept my clothing from rubbing against the sore, and of course my trusty new biker shorts were and still are a life saver.

I will never again run without my biker shorts. I recommend them to any fat bottom girl (or boy) who has decided to start running. Even The Punisher has started wearing them and he can't thank me enough. Get the ones that are made to absorb the sweat away from your skin and you'll never again get the dreaded Chub Rub. Or you can follow the advice of a duck, who doesn't run.

Depression and New Shoes

There is a depression that comes when you are not able to workout like you have been for the last three weeks. It takes over your entire life like a virus that you cannot seem to get rid of. It attaches to your soul and tells you horrible things like, "I knew you weren't good enough" and "see? I told you. You are just too fat. You should give up all together."

This depression virus latched onto me and nearly had me talked in to giving up...again. But this time I had something on my side that everyone should have. A superhero, in my mind, that infused me with positivity and hope. Let's just say that The Punisher doesn't always punish. Sometimes he is kind, gentle, rewarding, and he can give you that one extra little push to get out there and just keep doing what you do.

So I did. I got out there and kept lifting, kept working, kept sweating. Eventually after a week of not using my knees for anything but walking from one place to another, I was able to get up on the elliptical with no pain for thirty minutes. I did that for a few days twice a day. Then today I was able to do an hour with no pain. I can walk with no pain too. I even did a tester jogging lap around the gym this morning and it twinged a little bit so I stopped but I know that one day very soon I will get back to running.

In order to prepare myself for that one day. I had to go buy a new pair of shoes for the occasion. Remember docs orders to buy new shoes? I totally did that this weekend and what a relief! I enjoyed every second of the 3 hour trip to the running store and back. (If you live in the Asheville area I totally recommend Jus' Running. The people there are experts at running and shoes, ask them anything and I bet they have an answer! Plus they can deal with my smart ass and my smart ass friends and that's the way to get my business.)

The cool sticker I got for Punisher

When I walked in the running store (that deals specifically with shoes and running) I knew exactly what was going to happen.

"Hello. How can I help you?" the owner asked me.

"Oh, I am in need of a pair of good running shoes. Do you guys carry those?"

The look on his face was priceless. He knew he was in for a long two hours with my friends and I. He just shook his head and showed us to the shoes. He knew exactly what I needed within seconds of watching me walk a few steps and got me the perfect shoe.

What can a new pair of shoes do for you?

They can brighten your spirit and make you feel like your flying. They give you a chance to show just how cool and awesome you really are. They can also show a part of your personality that has been hidden beneath the layers of fat you have built up over the years. The louder in color they are the better runner you are, I swear, I wouldn't make this stuff up!

So here they are in all their depression beating glory. I have a shirt that matches that bright ass yellow on the soles too. I can't wait to get out there and for you to join me!

These Boots Are Made For Walking...

But my legs were made for running.

Unfortunately my knees totally disagree. As you may have noticed, I have been complaining for the last couple weeks about how painful it is to run on my knees. I went and played tennis the other night and woke up the next morning in such pain that I couldn't walk. I finally broke down and made an appointment with my doc.

This morning was my visit and I found out that while I will live, I will also be in excruciating pain for the next couple weeks. I have damaged (not torn) both of my MCLs (Medial Collateral Ligament.)

It is the ligament that runs from the Femor to the Tibia on the medial (inside) of your knees. It is used to resist forces that would push the knees inward. It can be easily damaged by high impact, bending, or landing on a slightly bent knee.




Treatment includes pain meds, ice, complete and total rest, new shoes (hooray!) that can sustain the pressure points, and more pain meds. Eventually they will heal and I can get back to work. Until then, I will need to watch my diet and continue to do strength training for back, abs, and arms. So that I do not gain any of the weight back that I have already lost.

The moral of this story is...Do not run on an injury no matter how trivial you may think it is. I pushed through the pain because I figured I was just fat and lazy so my joints needed to catch up with my will power. But pain really is the only way your body has to tell you that something is wrong. And something was definitely wrong.

I implore you to go see your doc immediately if pain persists more than a day or two after giving it time to rest. He or she will be able to tell you why you have pain and whether you can continue to move on it or not. My doc informed today me that running on my injury has actually made it worse for me and a longer recovery time.

"What can I do about the pain then doc?" I asked him.

"Don't run away, I'll give you some samples..." he left the room and I almost laughed in his face. I wasn't about to RUN anywhere, let alone away.

I am frustrated. I am angry. I want to run. I want to be pain free. I want to be able to do the things I was doing before but I know that I just can't. If I do, I will cause more harm than good and it is possible that I will ruin it completely and I will never reach my goals.

So, I tell myself that this is merely a set back on my journey as I am sure we have all had or are right now in the middle of. I will recover and I will make it through this. I have learned from my mistake and it's time for me to just relax, take it easy, and eat my bitch mints like candy!

Hills...Nature's Way of Saying, "Because, Fuck You."

I hate hills.

I don't care if they are small, long, steep, or gentle slopes that meander. I hate them. When I am running I dread coming up to the bottom of the hill. As I gasp for breath I look up and see that the top just keeps stretching farther and farther from my view and it goes on and on. Like the hallway scene in that movie "The Shinning."

It's terrible! Horrible! Because they hate me! Stupid hills.

This is the last hill before I get back to my house. This is the hardest hill I have on my run. There are around 7 hills in total out and back. But this one kicks my butt every time. It doesn't look bad right? So innocent and unassuming. That is until you get up to it and start your jog up it. Then it turns into some seventh level of hell with no end in sight!

And I met a new friend. This is her. She is always there to greet me when I get to my turn around point and I catch my breath but this was the first time she let me pet her. Tomorrow I shall bring her a carrot!

Where to Start?

So, you've decided to start running. Congratulations! That's excellent news.

Where do you start? From the beginning of course. Where else would you start?

Me? Oh I started from the VERY beginning. I didn't just throw on a pair of old shoes and sweats and hustle out the door. Oh no. I started much slower than that! It's the little changes in your daily life that make the grade. Not sudden and intense intervals. Those eventually lead to failure!

First. I got out of bed. Yup. That's exactly right and the first step! I couldn't possibly run while in the fetal position now could I? (Although, that would be amazing if we could right?) Then, and this is very important, I tripped over the damn dogs and stepped on every mother F^$&ing damn lego in the house sauntered my way into the bathroom. Sauntering is indeed very important. I made sure to rub the sleep from my eyes and complete the three S's (shit, shower, shave, not necessarily in that order, although it is preferable.)

Once I completed those tasks for about a week I picked up another daily habit. I started flossing. Every. Single. Day. This added about five minutes to my morning routine but it felt good to actually complete something my dentist told me I should be doing all my life. (Again, with the "rest of your life" thing. I think these doctors are trying to kill us!)

After the flossing addition I started using mouthwash. Every. Single. Day.

You see. It's the baby steps that get me going and keep me running.

If you ever get stuck and just want to stop all this flossing and mouth washing, just give it all up because it's too hard. Just think of this picture below and you'll do fine. (Sorry my non-gay male readers! I don't have one for you yet!)

The Before...

You know those before and after pictures you see every where for every thing from weight loss to acne medication? I have come to despise them. It depicts people in the worst times of their lives and, as someone who was picked on all throughout her school age years, I can only imagine the names these poor people were called. They hate themselves and what they look like because someone shitty CEO of some shitty company told them that they aren't pretty enough or skinny enough. And WE believe them.

Of course we do! We want to believe them, we want to be someone totally different from who we are! They promised that if we use their products (not approved by the FDA) we will magically lose weight overnight and finally be skinny enough (results not typical)! Who wouldn't want that?

Well, I've tried nearly everything out there and nothing, literally not a single one of them, has worked. I followed all of the directions to a Tee and would maybe lose a couple pounds here and there. Alas, nothing made me lose weight overnight and I sure as hell didn't make me any prettier.

Don't get me wrong. I am totally comfortable with the person that I am. I am smart, I love animals and my friends and family, I love to tease people and be teased in return, I have a smart mouth that goes along with my quick sense of humor. I have a belief system that has nothing to do with a god and I trust in myself. That doesn't mean I have to like the way I look. Which I don't obviously. So I did it right. I went and talked to my doctor who told me what I need to do. Funny how I already knew what he was going to say.

"FBG you need to stop all of these fad diets, you're making it worse. Just eat right! No more fast food, period. No more soda, quit smoking, eat more salad and less bread, eat less red meat and more greens. Then after you do that, I want you to start exercising. Everyday."

"Everyday?!?"

"Yes. Every. Single. Day. And for the rest of your life," he told me. I was not happy with this decision but I am slowly making these changes.

So if I have to do this for the rest of my life I figured I'd better get started and I did. At least I have The Punisher helping me with the exercise every single day. I haven't had fast food and I quit smoking on June 25th of this year, my birthday. Here is my BEFORE picture taken just last night. I have lost two pounds from my heaviest weight of 242 pounds. The day of the 5K I will post the BEFORE and AFTER picture.

I Made a Friend

Last night was brutal. I made a huge mistake in recruiting a motivator who I will now refer to as "The Punisher." He listens to my whining but doesn't care, he ignores my sailor mouth, and has pushed me farther than I have ever been willing to go by myself. The bastard.

Here is an idea of my 60 minute workout: 3.0 miles on the recumbent bike (just to work up a sweat, a "warm-up" he calls it!) lunges, squats, a wall bounce thing that works your calves and ankles, 1 round of suicides (this gem of enlightenment had never been attempted by one FBG such as myself. Pretty sure I died there on that basketball court and my next of kin was already notified.) We did line hops, first forward and back then side to side, (also a giant pain in my ass amazingly enjoyable.) A short game of basketball was played thereafter which I was able to hide in a corner somewhere because I do not play. I did some curls, (with actual weights mind you!) and finally was able to sneak out before The Punisher was able to find something else for me to do.


After all that and about eight hours of recovery sleep, I decided to take a run this morning. 2.2 miles, uphill both ways (I am the only person on the planet that can find a road that is literally uphill in every direction), but I made a friend. He was a nice little friend, just crossing the road in front of me on one of the gentle inclines of my run. Yellow and black he hid in the grass after he raced across the road trying to beat the oncoming traffic.

I don't know about you, but when I run I generally think about things. Mostly they are things that are funny. Trust me, everything is funny when your legs are on fire and your lungs feel like they have collapsed. Even Marc Parent who authors the Newbie Chronicles on Runner's World thinks 'funny' is funnier when running, especially stupid things. So after meeting my little friend I asked myself, "Why did the turtle cross the road?"

Now, to a normal non-running person this would seem like the beginning of a joke for a small child. I assure you that this is not how my mind works. The answers to that very simple question ranged from the extremely mild "to get to the otherside" type jokes to "because some asshole keeps turning me around and taking me back to where I started!" to even "because the chicken I just slept with is back that way!"

By the end of my little tirade of answers to myself I was cracking up, out of breath, with legs burning like the lava fields in Hawaii. I made it all the way home on that little find, thank you my little friend! Hopefully I will make another friend tonight when I meet up with The Punisher again.

Let's Talk About Running.

Okay. Here's the thing. I am NOT a runner, never have been. I actually despise anything that makes me breathe hard and my muscles ache. Even SEX gets on my nerves sometimes (that's a lie.) Hence, not a runner.

Saturday was my first run since my 2001 Navy Physical Readiness Test, not including the fiasco I did a couple months ago. I was positive that I could at least run 1.5 miles with no problem. I mean I could do it 11 years ago without a problem, right?. (The PRT is a 1.5 mile run that had to be completed in 13 minutes and 30 seconds to pass, and just barely pass at that. Being the bare minimum kind of FBG, that was my time.)

So, after a LONG boring day at my 3x3 cubicle desk job it was time to meet up with my new 5K training buddies. I put on my spandex shorts (covered by another pair of loose shorts so as not to offend anyone,) a cool new running shirt (it doesn't absorb sweat so it prevents chafing,) and my brand spankin' new runnin' shoes (recommended by the skinny bitch at the shoe store.) I was ready to go. I felt great! I avoided mirrors at all costs, so of course I looked great too!

I arrived early to our designated meeting area, right near the McDonalds. (Thanks assholes. Who the hell meets near McDonalds before a run?) I stretched a little, looking like I probably knew what I was doing, and waited patiently for my friends to arrive. Once they did, we complained and whined for twenty minutes talked and joked a little but then it was time to get down to business.

How does one start running? Do you start walking then move your way up to a run? Do you just skip start and then run? Do you do that weird trip/fall/run thing? I had no clue. I opted for the walking and moving my legs faster until I was running approach and so did my friends. All runners will tell you that for a nice, comfortable, pace you need to be able to say a complete sentence without being too much out of breath. Well with this FBG any sort of walking fast or jogging will put me out of breath and unable to speak coherently. Usually it's filled with a bunch of cuss words strung together to make a sentence only sailors can understand. Eventually I got into a pace that was easy enough for me to keep and hard enough to feel the energy being used. It felt pretty good to get out there running. I was on fire! I wanted to keep going! I was ready to take on anything!

.10 miles later I was huffing and puffing, dragging my feet, and barely able to lift my arms. I cursed the heavens and I am pretty sure I was stuck in a level of hell attained by only those who are are Reese's Peanut Butter loving sinners. (Yes, I am hoping that you didn't notice the little point before the 10 so you're thinking "OMG you ran ten miles? That's GREAT." Yeah, I did that on purpose.) I did run a total of at least half a mile. Pretty good for someone who has to heft around 240 lbs.

I am a little sore, a little tired, and to top it all off...I'm doing it again tomorrow!

What I Learned

This morning was the first morning that I was able to use my employer’s new gym. I asked the husband if he would like to come with me. I didn’t want to go alone and he didn’t have any idea the last time he stepped on a scale. We hopped in the car around seven am and made the short trip into town. Once we got there, he hopped on the bike while I put my ass on the elliptical. Then I figured out how to use it and put my feet on it instead.

After ten minutes of the recommended level ten setting, I moved it down to level eight for the last twenty minutes as my military suggested workout told me to. According to Navy standards, I am to increase the levels not the time if it gets easy. I don’t see that happening any time soon.

At my twenty-minute time, the husband decided he wanted to go lift weights instead of keeping up with the cardio on the bike. Five minutes later he was done, five minutes after that my legs were jell-o and I was ready to go home. I did a cool down and left, but here is what I learned during my two completely military standard workouts.

I learned that I can complete fifty push-ups but I cannot seem to do it without bitching. I learned that I can run two miles without bitching (because I can’t breathe enough to do so.) I learned that the elliptical is a gift from the devil incarnate. I learned that I have muscles that haven’t been used in over twelve years. Most importantly, I learned that I can complete an entire workout (unlike my loving husband.)

First Things First

If you walk into the office at any time of the day, I can almost promise you that someone, somewhere, is shoveling food into his or her face. The smells waft from our break room like french-fries in a hot car. Sometimes I am able to figure out what the smell is but usually it just smells like rancid garbage.

Our small space is filled to the brim with cubicles and there is a warm body in each little cubby. Steadily they force feed themselves into morbid obesity (so did I.) At this time of year most of us are working 54 hour work weeks with only Sunday off. That doesn’t leave much time for making healthy meals and working out (some barely have enough time to shower regularly.) Most of us have fast food burgers and fries on a daily basis that contributes to the cholesterol overload in the body. We look like a cattle farm; all of us cows shoved into our own small space grinding away on our oats while the bosses fatten us up for the slaughter.

Sick of the same routine of eat, sleep, eat, work, eat, college, eat, work, eat. I approached my co-workers with the prospect of losing weight and working out. I was excited to share with them my newfound health inspiration. I was not as well received as I had hoped. They looked at me as if I had just taken away their last meal. It was that moment when that I reached down to take the dinner plate away from a hungry puppy that I lost my arm.

“Are you calling me fat?” was one response. Well, yes actually. I am calling you fat. I would not have asked you to come with me if you were one of the few who have been blessed with the skinny gene. So get off your high horse (lazy boy, couch, whatever else you use to sit on) and let’s take a walk.

Looks like I am on my own this time. Won’t they be amazed when 6 months from now, I will be at my goal weight, and they will still be chewing their cud in the cubicles. 

Amat Obesus Puella

Amat Obesus Puella means "The Fat Girl" in Latin, hence my name Puella Obesus "Girl Fat." No I don't speak Latin (idiot, no one speaks Latin.) If you're wondering who in the heck would name their child Puella Obesus...Stop reading this blog. Seriously. No one would name their child this hideous name (although Sage Moonblood and Apple are cutting it close!) (For all you Latin scholars out there I do realize that this may be grammatically incorrect. With that said, don't go correcting it. Google only allows so many name changes.)

That's me. The fat girl. Yeah, the one in the middle...what do you mean you can't tell? Clearly the other two skinny biotches on either side of me makes it easier?

I would normally say I'm proud of what I look like. Bigger is better, and all that jazz, but recently my five year old daughter has been able to out run me when we're headed for the cookie jar. This heinous act must be remedied! Not only is the little cookie thief small enough to fit through a key hole, she's as fast as a cheetah! A simple explanation of, "mommy made those cookies for herself," just doesn't seem to work with her. Her reply is generally something along the lines of, "catch me if you can fatty mommy!"

In case you haven't noticed, this blog is intended to be a humorous, rude, obnoxious, and sometimes down right dirty, journey of weight loss and lifestyle changes. If you are easily offended you have my permission to stop reading right now and browse to another blog or website that will adhere to your sensitive sensibilities.