Seriously....

It has occurred to me that when I started this blog, back in 2005, my hubby suggested I might write about losing weight. It seemed like such a good idea at the time, because I was actually on a successful downward trend, and everyone likes to get good ideas, tips, etc... on losing weight from successful dieters. I was sure I would have a huge audience immediately. I was, at the exact moment he suggested it, working my way through a bag of Christmas Hershey Kisses (the kind with no calories because they are part of the decorations), and was actually staring at about a 10 pound weight gain over the holidays. The timing was right...as soon as I finished that bag.

However, my first weight-loss blog (trying to document my efforts at journaling my food intake) disintegrated into somewhat of a joke (in keeping with the theme of my "write about funny things" mantra), and I sort of let that whole idea slide, with occasional renewed efforts at losing weight over the past three years.

Which has brought me thus far: I now weigh FORTY POUNDS MORE than I did in December of 2005. 40! Four-zero. Four times ten. A whole heck of a lot of calories to have eaten and now to try to lose....

I had really decided to embrace the newer and if-it-is-possible more chubby me, but then the whole "getting healthy and killing cancer cells" thing came up. Thanks to Perfect Daughter, I now feel guilty if she calls and I'm scarfing down Cherry Garcia instead of organic carrots. I'm thinking that even if thinner isn't better, probably eating more veggies is. (I say probably because I'm still waiting for the study that says fat Americans who eat a lot of sugar and fat are healthier than anyone else in the WORLD--I'm looking at you, Sweden!).

My decision to lose weight also came about after my quest for "sun protective" clothing.

We shopped yesterday at Outdoor World in San Antonio. Here is how it went:

Sweet Girl: "Look mom, they have CUTE clothes here"

Me (looking at very skinny mannequins, tank tops, cute shorts): "Um, we're in the wrong department."

Rowdy (standing by khaki, khaki and more khaki): "Mom, these shirts have 60 SPF on them".

Ok, I went to look at them. Here is where the depression set in. There was exactly ONE shirt in my size in the whole store, followed by one pair of pants. One. Aren't there any tubby sun-avoiders out there? Oh, of course not...one trip to Sea World would convince anyone that all people weighing 300 lbs or more are NOT concerned with hiding from the sun--they are in fact, in tank tops and bikinis, strolling around looking much like Shamu.

I tried on the limited selection. I looked like the San Antonio zoo-keeper. Or the elephant.

But I digress. I mentally decided that it's truly not how I look, but that I am PROTECTED. I thought a hat might just be the ticket to make me feel better, more stylish.

We strolled to the hat display. I tried on first one, then another, then it dawned on me that yes, you can actually be TOO FAT FOR A HAT? I am. Nothing fit. If it sort of fit, I pictured the migraine that would start within minutes of settling down at Sweet Girl's next soccer game.

We left empty-handed. I did pass the famous fudge stand without even looking and I did have jello for a snack just now. Surely I've lost ten pounds today, right? And maybe khaki is my color after all.....