Goals for 2009

A good friend of mine, The Bad Witch, suggested on her blog that we write out our goals for 2009. I find this to be a most excellent idea. Let’s just skip the soon-to-be broken resolutions. (BTW, I never ever make resolutions about food. After 22 years, I finally figured out that those resolutions were pretty much worthless.)
So, here is my list:
1. Use my Crock pot at least once a week.
2. Shave my legs at least once a week. (This does not have to be the same day that I use my Crock pot)
3. Have an orgasm at least once a week. (Preferably on the day that I shave my legs)
4. Learn to parallel park. (Finally!)
5. Learn Morse code.
6. Learn to take accurate measurements.
7. Use my canvas grocery bags on each trip to the market.
8. Don’t let my gas gauge go under ¼ tank.
9. Say “no” more often, and don’t feel guilty about it.
10. Yell less at my kids. (My husband says he wants in on that deal too.)
11. Don’t wear a duck on my head. (oh, what? I haven’t told you this story??)
12. Be on time.
13. End all list on lucky #13.

Okay, please add your list of goals in the comments section, or I will put a voodoo curse on your bathroom scale.

Things You Did Not Really Need To Know #65

Ms. Talkative Therapists says, "Wow.....did you eat something with seeds today?" during my treatment.
"Um....nope. Just my tea and lemonade. Just like everyone else."



Uh oh. Busted.

I Finally Look Like Britney

So, do you know what happens to you if drink alcohol while on a strict low calorie, no dairy, low fat diet?

You puff up like a puffer fish.

(Or like Britney.)

This is what I looked like for the rest of the day. At first, I thought that The Hulk had squeezed me until I swelled, but then I realized that it was the screwdrivers that I had for breakfast. (well, let's not call them screwdrivers. Doing a shot of "mouthwash" and taking a bite of an orange shouldn't count as a screwdriver, right??)

So I show up to my colonic appointment, and the therapists says, "OMG!"

I acted surprised and startled. (I do this a lot in life. I'm pretty good at it by now.)

"Whaaat? What?!"

"Your face! "1

"What? Do I have food on my face??" (as if huh?)

"No, you seem to be having a reaction to something. You don't look so good."2

"Really?"

"I think that we need to do a super flush today. Whatever is attacking your system needs to be flushed out immediately. We'll do a java flush for an hour today."

Perfect.

So, now I have coffee up my arse.

I can't drink a cup of coffee, but I can ram one up my arse.

1 Damn. what a rotten thing to say to someone, huh?

2 See number one above.

The Hulk

Well, day two is starting off nicely. So nicely, that we need a nap to sleep off the "breakfast". So, we went to the pool area and grabbed a few lounge chairs. We took turns giggling at all the sober people. A few hours later, it was time for our massage treatments.

My therapist today looked just like The Hulk, but without the ripped jeans and being green. He was massive and strong. He kneaded me in every which way possible. He would grab a handful of my skin on my shoulder, and would knead it until it was soft and buttery.

And painful.

Very painful.

I would cringe and flinch each time he would start on a new area. It didn't seem to deter him at all. I start to whimper. He seems to knead harder. I get tears in my eyes, and he kneads harder. By now, I'm concentrating on a few things: keeping covered under the sheets. Not peeing. Not crying.

Finally, the 45 minutes are over. The Hulk leaves the room, and I slowly get dressed. (It takes me a very long time, since my arms don't want to work.)

I head outside, and lay down next to Ethel.

"So, how was it??"

"Very harsh. I think that guy hates me. I think he hates me because I'm beautiful........Oh, no! Do you think that he could smell the vodka??" I start to panic.

Ethel giggles.

Oh, no. "What did you do!?!" I ask her.

"Nothing!" She giggles some more.
"Okay, maybe I mentioned it to Hans that you liked it really really rough. The rougher the better." She snorts. "Next time, don't eat the last orange."

She giggles so much that she falls off the lounge chair.
I don't help her up.

Hollar!

This is a shout out to the girls in Kansas.

I appreciate the nice notes.

Now, get back to work.

Sunrise Hike

Early the next morning, we are waken by a knock at our door. It's dark, and it feels like we just fell asleep. I have completely forgotten that we signed up for the Sunrise Hike.
*Yippee*
We dress in the dark, fumbling around looking for our shoes, until we remember that they are being held hostage at the doorway. *sigh*
Out of the 30 guest at the hotel, there are only 5 of us on the hike. (Just the dumb ones, I guess.) The hosts hands us flashlights, but ask us to please only use them if necessary because it disturbs the environment. (Which, BTW, I immediately turn on and leave on. I know what kind of critters live in the desert, and I know that they like to roam around in the dark. Once again, I am the smartest one in a group of idiots.) The hike was actually enjoyable. It wasn't too strenuous, but strenuous enough to know that you were getting a workout. It had breathtaking views too.
But, hands down, the best part of the hike was when we walked by some orange trees. I quickly turned off my light, and shoved two oranges down my shirt. (Ethel managed to get three in her shirt!)
We had oranges for breakfast that day.
(and screwdrivers too. Using the last of my "mouthwash".)
HA!
Take that, Fat Farm! You don't know who you are messing with!

Nighty-night

That night was tough. The front desk came by around 8 pm, and brought us our diet "cocktail". It seemed to be some sort of broth (vegetarian, I'm sure) peppered with cayenne. It looked kindof gross. But, I was so freakin hungry, that I was not going to let any bit of it go to waste. I sipped it slowly. (I was afraid that if I drank it fast, I would get heartburn. I haven't had anything to eat, other than the lemonade all day. Recipe for heart burn, right?) Ethel hates cayenne, but she gulps hers down. Three minutes later, we are hungry again. (and our eyes are watery and our sinuses are cleared.)
We decide to take a walk around the compound. (To do so, we have to get our shoes from the front door to our dormitory. Within three minutes, someone was knocking at our door, asking us why our shoes were gone. For those slower readers..........this was their way of keeping tabs on us.) We put on our shoes, and walk around the lobby.
There is nothing going on in the lobby.
We try the labyrinth.
It's too dark, and it's still just a labyrinth.
We walk by the pool.
Nothing is going on. (which totally surprises me. You would think that there would be a few nudists, with this bunch.)
We go back to the front desk, to talk to the only other people we have seen all night. We try to strike up a conversation. We get ignored. (it doesn't help that the desk clerk was eating a Three Musketeers bar, and Ethel came thisclose to swiping it. The clerk was not amused.)

We head back to our room, leaving our shoes at the door. We flipped flopped around our room for a while. Pacing helped curb the hunger.
Pacing.
Laughing.
Crying.
That's what we did until the wee hours of the morning.
Around 4 am, we heard a knock at our door. We opened it, not fearing robbers nor rapist, but hoping for room service.
It was the front desk. They had contacted the local physician on call. They asked him to prescribed a sleeping aid to us.


Yeah.





We have bugged them sooo much, that they requested us to be medicated.






It'd be pissed if I wasn't so sleepy.

Here We Go Again.

(Blah, blah, blah.....warning..... blah, blah, blah...disgusting.....blah, blah, blah,....don't eat lunch and read....)

I'm nekkid. (check)
In a flimsy robe. (check)
On the exam table. (check)
Feet flat on the table, knees up. (check)
Hose in my brown eye. (check)

*sigh*

You would think that I would learn by now, right? How do I keep finding myself in this situation?? I honestly do not have an answer for this question.

The holistic internist (Who will now be known as The Anal Prober) does not believe in pain killers. (of course she doesn't, right?) So, I'm doing this sober. (and hungry, I might add) She has me lie on my side, as she penetrates me. (....take that all in for a moment......) I am to lay on my back with my knees bent for the next 45 mins. The clear hose is connected to a machine on the wall. It's right next to my head, so I don't miss a thing. (Hey, when did I last eat corn??) She turns a few knobs, and warm water fills my cavity. (I know that it is not possible, but I swear I thought that water was coming up my throat.) As soon as she feels resistance, she stops the flow. She complains that I "don't hold much". I feel compelled to explain that small colons must run in my family.
"Hold it....hold it......" she instructs.
"Um..how?"
I guess that she was telling me to fight the urge to bear down. No problem, the last thing I wanted to do was shit myself in a robe.
A few seconds later she would push a few buttons, and the vacuum would start. Everything would be sucked into the machine, via the clear hose. As it entered the machine, it ran through a clear little holding cell, before it was vacuumed away. As it entered the holding cell, The Anal Prober would comment on the substances.
"Oh, see that? That's been in there for a while."
"Oh, see that? That purple tint? Those are toxins."
"Oh, see that? You cheated on your diet and ate beans."
"Oh, see that? That greenish tint? That can build up and kill you."
She was seriously making conversation with me, like we were two old bats at lunch. I never answered her. (I couldn't even speak. I was concentrating on not shitting myself.) But, luckily for all of us, it didn't seem like she expected any answers.
This painful and humiliating treatment finally came to an end. She pulled out her weapons of torture, handed me a towel and handed me a tip envelope. (I'm not sure what part of that sentence was the more humiliating.)
I got dressed, and wasted time looking for my shoes before I remembered that they were confiscated. I flip flopped out of there. As I walked out the door, she says, "see you tomorrow."

Muther f'er!

Initial Reactions

So, Ethel and I take a walk around the resort. (from here on in, it will now be known as a compound) It's not fancy-fancy, but it's still nice. Very rustic and natural. The compound has several Villas (from here on out, they will be known as dormitories) and a nice outdoor area. The hillside is right outside the back door, so the views are spectacular. We walk around, and instantly realize that we are the fattest people there.

We have to sign up for our spa treatments (from here on out, they will be known as torture treatments.) I signed up for two spa treatments daily, and one group activity. (I ignored the facials, mani/pedis since I figured that I could get those services anywhere.) I signed up for a daily hydro colonic, a daily lymphatic drainage massage, and a sunrise hike. Ethel copied me but added an aqua aerobics class to her schedule. (I told her that I couldn't go into a swimming pool unless I had a margarita in my hand. You know, the ol' religious beliefs excuse.)

We hang around the pool area and sauna while we wait for our first treatments. (Drinking the de-li-cious diet lemonade, natch) It was hard to stop obsessing about food while sitting there. I picked up a magazine (Gourmet magazine. Who the f*ck brings Gourmet magazine to a fat farm?? Muther f'ers!) but it just made my mouth water. I looked around to the other guests, and everyone had that same dull look in there eyes. I started visualizing that we were all going to turn into zombies and start eating each other, but then I shuddered those thoughts away and reminded myself to have a positive attitude. (Might as well start now, right?) I found that sitting in the sauna helped curb my appetite. (mostly because it made me so parched that I considered licking the redwood walls.)

Ethel was having fun in her aqua aerobics class. She was bouncing around, swinging her hands, and laughing like a loon. (I think she got into my mouthwash. That b*tch.) She seemed to be having a good time, and everyone in her class loves her. (did I mention that she was the youngest one in the class? Yeah, it was a total geriatrics class. I saw old man balls and everything.) She splashes away the calories, while I hope to hibernate and hold off my hunger. (sucker.)

My first session is the lymphatic massage. It's a medicinal massage that uses manual touch to force out toxins from your lymph nodes. To be completely honest with you, I didn't notice a difference from a regular massage. Other than the fact that the therapist used hot wet towels first, and I was required to sit in the sauna for 20 minutes prior to my appointment. So, all in all, it was a pleasant experience. (It even made me forget about my hunger.) Ethel on the other hand had her first colonic.

It was amazing to see the physical change in her before and after. (Whoa, don't be thinking that she looked slimmer or anything!!) I'm talking about her demeanor. One minute she's bouncing around the pool, splashing complete strangers, and the next minute she walks out of the torture chamber madder than a bee. She also announces that she wants to go home. I remind her that we cannot because:

1. They have our car keys.
2. They stole our shoes.
3. And we already paid in full.

So, basically, I told her to suck it up. (She didn't say much after that, but a few weeks later she told me that knowing that I was having a colonic next made her feel better. It also kept her from putting a rock in my lemonade.)

The Fat Farm

So the next day, I talk to Tyrese about my little vacation. I gave him all the information on the resort, and showed him the website. (I had to tell him, because I would be missing my Friday and Monday workout.) After my workout, he said those magic words that almost made my pants moist. (almost.....)

"While at the resort, you can eat whatever you want."

Seriously, I almost knocked him down because I was so excited. So excited, that I didn't notice him grinning from ear to ear.

So, Ethel and I load up the car, and point it towards Palm Desert Ca. Two hours later, we are completely lost. (This was all before Mapquest and GPS, remember?) After driving around in circles, we pull into a gas station and get directions. We were lost mainly because the resort is in the outskirts of town, turning off the paved streets and driving down an isolated gravel driveway for miles. (We kept missing the darn turnoff.) Once we got down the long driveway, if you looked back, you couldn't even see the city. It was almost as if you were in the middle of nowhere.
The resort itself was rustic, but beautiful. We checked in, and they immediately took away our car keys. We were read the rules while they searched our bags. (it's rehab, remember?) All food and liquor were removed from our bags. (except for the tiny bottle of "mouthwash" that I filled with Grey Goose. Suckers.) Lights out was at 10 pm. We had to remove our shoes the entire time we were at the resort. (They provided us with slippers and flip flops to wear while we were there. Outside of our room, there was a plastic tray where we were to keep our shoes unless we were doing some hiking or walking the labyrinth........yes, I said labyrinth.) There were some areas that were strictly for women, and then there were co-ed areas. Even though some of the areas were for women only, we were to keep all of our clothes on at all times. (Really? They actually have to make this a rule?) Other than that, we had full use of the swimming pool, whirlpool, sauna, labyrinth, exercise classes, outdoor hikes, and two daily spa treatment. We were really excited about being there, until we both noticed something......there was no kitchen.
"where do we go to eat?"
Oh, remember when you walked into the lobby? That beverage bar? There is herbal tea there and you can have as much as you want.



WHAT! Is that all??!!

No, don't be silly. Outside on the patio, there is some diet "lemonade" (not really lemonade.....water with lemons floating around. That's pretty much it.) that you are welcome to have. It's in the cooler. And, at night, we bring you a cayenne detox drink to your room. You will be fasting the entire time you are here, in order to make sure the holistic treatments give you the best results.

Ethel and I looked at each other. Neither of us wanted to say anything. We just stared at each other, and blinked a lot. (Probably in order for us not to start crying, I'm sure.)

Somewhere, back home, Tyrese was laughing his arse off.

Super Cleansing

So, I take home my little box of cleansing pills. The directions seem easy enough. Take one fiber pill and one herbal pill each morning and each night. Each day, increase the dosage by one (of each pill) each morning and each night. Stop increasing when you have three successful BM's each day.

Yuck. Yuck. Yuck.

The pills are pretty nondescript. They don't make me nervous nor shaky-shaky. They have a slight smell, and they give me a weird taste in my mouth. (I'll taste it all day long, since they also make me burp a lot)

All in all, I don't' see much of a difference.

*sigh*

I work my way up to 6 pills (each) in the morning, and 6 pills (each) in the evening. (this is the maximum recommended dosage.) The sheer number of pills make me gag. This is sooo not worth it.

I still do not see enough change to continue the program. I get better results from Taco Bell. (Plus, I already powered through the whole box anyways.) I'm not looking forward to the discussion that I'll have with Tyrese.

"Um, hi.....um...I failed Poop 101"

I sadly mention my defeat to Ethel. After her giggling fit, she wipes the tears from her eyes, and tells me that she has a plan.

A plan.

A brilliant plan.

Seems that she was watching VH1's "Rock Bodies". In one segment, they talked about how certain celebrities will check themselves into a diet rehab. (Genius.) While in rehab, they fast and do spa treatments. (Genius. Pure genius.) They also talked about that some of the treatments involved hydrocolonics, lymphatic drainage and herbal detoxing.
*(shudder)*
A lot of actresses swear by this treatment. In fact, it was inferred (allegedly...don't sue me.) that many actresses would check into the diet rehab center before a big award ceremony in order to fit into those tiny dresses. (While they didn't mention names, during this segment, they flashed pictures of Gwen Stephani and Janet Jackson on the screen.)
We watched the taped segment over and over again. (this was before Tivo. My one fear was that we would ruin and possibly snap the VCR tape from all the rewinding that we did.) We scoured the VH1 website. We needed the name of the spa, but it seemed to be a carefully guarded secret.
It was....until VH1 made one fatal mistake.
They flashed a picture of the spa on the screen for about 1.5 secs. That was enough time for us to freeze the frame and get half of the spa's address. One hour later, and a lot of Googling, we had the spa name and address. (It was in the California desert, about two hours from us.)(Buwahaha.....)
Ethel called the spa, and made us a reservation. We decided to stay for four days and three nights. ($1570 each and we had to share a room and bathroom. "Meals" included, but not including transportation or tips.<--- As always, those quotation marks are not a mistake.) I told Mr. Hummingbird that we were going to visit her mother.

Absence. Heart. Fonder.

Sorry for the unexplained absence. I injured myself, and have been out of sorts lately. Not to mention that I've been hopped up on painkillers. Enough to stun a small baby elephant, I'm sure.
IRL, I sound exactly like Anna Nicole when I talk. (I'm pretty sure I'm drooling too.)

Well, the fog is lifting, so I'll start posting again.

Stanks, ya'll. (<---that's me, sounding like Anna Nicole)

Flashback to Failed Diets-Top Ramen Diet

This little gem of a diet came to me during one of those drunken nights when you fondly reminisce about your college years.

"Remember how we used to eat Top Ramen everyday, and we were soooo skinny??!!"

Really people, that's all it took. Top Ramen (any flavor will do) for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. (I bought 6 for $1 at our local grocery store.) Well, since I'm older now,(but, unfortunately, not much wiser) I decided on a few slight changes, to make up for my declining health.

1. Add twice the amount of water that is recommended
2. Add half a small bagful of frozen veggies.
3. Use only half the flavor packet. (to cut the sodium)

Days on the diet: 3 days
Lbs. lost: 2.5 lbs
Number of days lbs. kept off: about 4 days

Flashback to Failed Diets-Baby Food Diet

Okay, this diet came some from very good friends who used to "model". (In quotes, because anyone you meet in Ca will say that they have "modeled" at some point or another.) This very simple diet consisted of one inexpensive item...jars of Gerber baby food.
That's it.
You eat a jar or two for breakfast, lunch and dinner. (Hell, thrown one down for a snack too!) The portion is controlled, and you get none of those pesky byproducts and preservatives. After a few days on this diet, not only are you suppose to lose tons of weight, but your skin is suppose to look freakin' awesome too. (The story goes that the first few days, your skin will be irritated and gross. It's just all those impurities and free radicals being pushed to the surface of the skin. By what? I'm guessing all the damn baby food you will be eating. *shrug*) Jarred baby food is suppose to be some of the purest food on the shelf. (I couldn't find any statements to back this up, BTW. Damn you Google!)

Days on the diet: 1/2 day
Lbs lost on diet: zero
Number of jars still left in my pantry: 15



P.S. Dutch Apple is awesome. I could eat it as a snack if I was hungry enough.
Only if.