England, Interrupted

I just want to pop in and vent for a minute about things that are happening in real life for me now, and then I will get back to editing pretty pictures.

Sam got me an iPod touch. All the kids have had one for years. They truly can't live without them. The only way to communicate with them, when they are NEXT TO YOU ON THE COUCH, is to send them a text.
And I kid you not, they will text back with the response "Where are you?"
Closely followed by "Do we have anything to eat."

If I survive the teenage years with any shred of dignity it will be a miracle, and I will write a book about it.

So anyway, Sam pulled me into the 2000's and bought me one.

I don't really want to use it. I have an iPod full of all of the music I want, and I am not about to try to load up this new one. Old dog-new tricks.

But, I downloaded a couple apps that I like.
One of them is called "My Fitness Pal."

Back in the day, when I lost all my weight, I ended at a place where I was comfortable. However, I have always wondered what it would be like to be a few pounds thinner. Would I lose the fat slab above my c-section scar? Would my arm jiggle disappear?

When I came home from England, I had gained a few pounds anyway, and thought "what the heck, let's do this!"

So I plugged the numbers into My Fitness Pal, and started to try to lose it all the way this time.

Let me tell you. It has sucked.
I lost the weight I gained in England, and then for two whole weeks I have been hovering at the same number.
I have not gone over my calories once.
I have logged all my food into the app. No cheating!
I have exercised almost every day.
I have been swearing a lot, in my head these days.
(Proper English vulgarities, with a British accent!)
I have been doing these green smoothies.

That is a whole 'nother post--the green smoothies.
The only one I have liked has been fresh pineapple, spinach and greek yogurt.
The others tasted like cud from a cow. Cow cud.
The one I like is barely a step above...
And to top it all off, the blender I have is possibly the worst blender, ever.
It was Wal-mart's finest back in 2004.
I can't even find the lid anymore, so I have to use a plate.
It sounds like a sack of nails grinding down a kitchen disposal.
Sometimes it smells like it is burning, and I always secretly hope that it will blow up and contaminate my cud.
I use a wooden spoon to try to smash the pineapple down into the chopper.
Sometimes I hit the spoon on the moving blade.
It scares the crap out of me!
Let me tell you, wooden spoon shrapnel is not the kind of "fiber" you want to beef up your smoothie with.
Especially if it is already cud-like.
Sam laughs at me everything I am slaving over my blender.
"How's that working out for you?" he will say while he is eating vanilla wafers in my face.

So he surprised me, and ordered me a Blend-Tec Blender.

If you get bored, or have young boys at home, you will be entertained by their site "Will it Blend?", where they demonstrate everything this freak-of-nature blender can pulverize.
We used to watch it back in the day.
Click on the "Don't try this at home" area.
We especially liked when they turned an iPhone into dust.
In the blender.

Of course now my kids would take that a little too personally. It's not so funny anymore-watching your lifeline be senselessly destroyed.

So anyway, this Rolls Royce of blenders is winging its way to my house, this very second, and I should be super excited, but all I can think is "How long do I have to do this?"

This whole diet thing is making me crazy.
Women--we have all these variables.
They have a whole lot to do with what week it is.
There is not a good week. There is the week before the "bad week" then the bad week, then the week after the bad week--the recovery week.
"I am up five pounds from the bloat."
You know what I am talking about.
It sucks. Totally.

And Sam, well, he can skip a meal, and go weigh himself, and immediately his effort registers.
This whole four weeks of no treats, and cud, has made me consider elective surgery to remove extra organs.
It would comparatively be much more pleasant.
Why do I still have an appendix?
Or a uterus, for that matter?
All I have gotten from my efforts thus far, doing the whole diet thing is greenish cow pies.
I am sorry if that is not what you wanted to read today.

Well, I am committed now.
After all, I have a Blend-Tec coming.

Maybe I just need a different app.
Like Angry Birds.
Or Hungry Birds.
Or flip the bird.
At the bathroom scale.