I'm Below the National Waist Size Average!!!?: Running my Ass Off continued...

That's right folks...
Yours truly is actually below the National Waist Size Average!!
WOOOHOOO!!!!
Trust me...no one was more surprised then I was.

I was watching a news program about the obesity epidemic when they talked about a recent Federal study that showed that the average waist size for men in the US was 39.0 inches while for women its 36.5 inches.
I am currently a little under 33 inches.

Kinda blew my head....

I'm still not sure how accurate that survey was and I don't completely trust news networks anymore, but it made me realize how far I've come.
But just like everything in my life, my happy dance didn't last long...

Now there seems to be a new study out that correlates waist size and health (it's been out before but this one was all new...lol), that says you need to have a waist size of 31 and under to be low risk, so of course I have a ways to go...
That is if any of this shit ACTUALLY mattered to me...

I was just happy knowing I was below the national average...I did my little jig and that was it...I really couldn't give 2 shits otherwise...
The obesity issues is a big one, and it requires major change to take place in every aspect of our lives, but people don't want to talk about that, and until they do, I'm sticking my fingers in my ears, sticking out my tongue, and blowing raspberries at my TV.
They want to throw around scary numbers, tell you to eat right and exercise, but that's all they say (as if that's the only problem). Then right afterward, as if by divine coincidence, you'll see is a fast food commercial.

It's fucking comical.

So...I know there's always gonna be another survey, another study, that will say something different. Just look at how many times they said red wine and coffee were bad for you, which is why I'm not giving up my red meat for no man...lol. So I'm not gonna waste my time chasing after someone else's idea of healthy.

I know what it looks like and I'll know it when I get there...
*PING*...lol...;-)



Stories on the web that have to do with what I'm ranting about: 

Japan, Seeking Trim Waists, Measures Millions 
The Belly Burden


(Photo by KclCmdr, provided by Photobucket and directly linked)
(Ticker provided by The Ticker Factory)

"Return of the Pack!"THE WEDDING!!...

It's been over a week since my aunt's wedding, and I'm still trying to recover and get my thoughts together to write everything that happened.

The whole event can be best described as flipping overwhelming, and I realized today, writing down everything that happened would be way too much of a daunting task.

I would end up turning this semi-legible blog into unreadable gibberish (which I hope I've avoided...so far).
So instead I shall skip over the week prior and concentrate on condensing the wedding day from a book length description to a reasonable blog length (I'll try but there's a lot...lol)...so here it goes...
 --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The wedding day was one of the craziest experiences of my life...Complete and total madness...lol
Not only did it turn out to be freaking hot day (which I was dreading since I sweat a lot!), but time literally felt like it was flying by and all I was doing was chasing after it like a dumb ass.

My morning started with me on my cell, talking with family, trying to get them from point A to point B, trying to fix appointments that had gone wrong, and trying to figure out where everyone can meet, all the while I was running around the city, hauling over 8 pounds of makeup on my shoulder, missing stops, getting on the wrong buses, all just trying to get to my hair appointment.
Oh and on top of that, I get on the one bus in NYC where the bus driver is gonna bust my balls because I'm on a cell phone...actually using the intercom to tell me to get off my phone!
WTF!!
I think if I wasn't so distracted with all those problems, I might have taken my heavy bag of makeup and knocked that driver upside her fat head, but then I'd be blogging from jail right now, so thank GOD for small favors...lol

I mean...my mind literally felt like it was in a blender, but like everything else, I pushed through the madness, and got shit done.
Family got where they needed to be, the problems got fixed, I made it to my appointment, got my hair done, and we finalized where we were all gonna meet.

Almost everyone was staying at the same hotel, to avoid driving drunk at 11pm, so we decided that was the place to meet up.
After greeting everyone in the lobby, my mother, panicked about our time, literally commandeered my aunts room for us to change in. It was understandable considering we were going to dress the bride on the boat before everyone else so we were tight on time.

It was insane!

We were literally running around the room in our undergarments, our clothing and all 8 pounds of my makeup scattered across the room. One of my aunts joined us later so we could hep her get dressed which just added to the madness. On top of that the bathroom was tiny even for NY standards, so trying fit 3 people in this bathroom to do makeup with the horrible corpse like lighting was a joke. My mother, my aunt and I literally played musical bathroom...lol
But the worst part was that not only did I have to do my makeup, and do it way over the top thanks to the pictures we were gonna be taking, but I had to do my mothers makeup as well, something I had never done before.
Being a perfectionist, it was a fucking crazy thing for me to attempt in the short time we had, but as luck would have it, I didn't fuck it up. But before I could congratulate myself for not freaking out and for doing a good job, we were out the door, running for a cab, doing a dive by to pick up of the bride, and where at the boat.

It was a nice sized yacht called the Star of America, but the moment I got on I noticed two things. One it was rocking like crazy, I could barley keep my balance, and two it was fucking HOT!!!
It was actually cooler outside then it was inside the ship, and I could already feel the beads of sweat forming on the back of my neck.
I was Fucked!
Between my hair being down, wearing a long dress, the physical exertion of just trying to keep my body upright, and the lack of air conditioning, I knew I was gonna look like a drowned cat within moments.

We headed to the main bathroom which was even hotter then the main cabin, and proceeded to dress the bride. Half way through the photographer told us she wanted some shots of the bride getting ready, so we moved back into the main cabin. Last thing you want when your hot, sweaty and uncomfortable, is a camera in your face, but if its for someone you love, then the term "Fuck It" has a way of running through your head, and that's just what happened.
The back of my head and neck were drenched (so much for getting my hair done), folds of my dress were darkened from the sweat, and my upper lip was covered in beads of moisture, but I just focused on what I was doing.

When it was all done, it was worth every moment because she was a vision...
No one would guess this woman who looked like she was in her 30's was actually going to be 50 in 4 months. Every piece that we had seen and chosen separately, came together flawlessly.

My job was done.
As the bride and groom welcomed the guests onto the boat I realized everything that we had been working towards was about to happen, and though my hair was a mess, my makeup was half melted, my dress was too long, I was drenched in sweat, and I couldn't stand in my heals anymore, I didn't care, I was happy.
I was with my family, people I loved, people I felt at home with.

Everyday that I walk out my door, there could be thousands of people around me, and I feel isolated, alone.
But when I'm with my family I'm surrounded with people who see me, who get me, who know what I'm gonna say before I say it. People who truly understand me and when I'm with them, no matter where that is, I feel like I'm truly home.

So I tied up my hair, kicked off my shoes, and said "FUCK IT!!"
The entire ride the boat rocked. Most of the time we had to hold on to each other or the walls to keep from falling, but we laughed every time.
After drinks, we headed top deck for photos, then once we arrived at the Statue of Liberty the ceremony began.

The brides son's girlfriend, a beautiful young 18 year old woman did the ceremony. She had gotten ordained specifically just to do this ceremony and she did such an amazing job that we will be calling her for future baptisms...lol. A few times I thought the ceremony was going to be ruined by the occasional party boat blasting Jay-Z's "Empire State of Mind" but they never got close enough to cause a real disturbance, just close enough to make me laugh.

Then the real party began. The DJ started spinning, and people started dancing (at least those who had the courage with the boat rocking). My uncle, who's notorious at weddings, was dancing with whomever he could grab, and god bless the women who were unlucky enough to get captured by him cause my uncle is dangerous when he dances on dry land, let alone at sea. If you don't believe me, ask every pair of ripped dress pants that man has gone through...lol

After some dancing we had the reception below deck. The lower you go, the less the boat rocks so perfect place to have a meal. There was a speech by the groom, but not a lot of hullabaloo, just elegant, to the point, and a tear jerkier. The food was amazing, as was the cake, but my favorite part was that I got to sit at the troublemakers table and was quite honored by it. My aunt the bride, being a bit of a troublemaker herself, had our table right next to hers, which was nice since usually at weddings the trouble makers are sat as far from everyone else as possible...lol...but that's just how our family rolls...;-)

One thing I did notice was that the power on the ship kept browning out, as did our speed, which could be the reason why the boat was so rocky. It also didn't help that the DJ decided to play music from the movie "Titanic" while we were eating. Either he was a complete idiot, and didn't connect how bad a choice of music that was, or he was a bit sadist. I'm just glad everything turned out ok, or I would have throttled that guy myself...lol

After the reception it was back to dancing. I helped the bride out of her dress and into another more comfortable dress, then headed to the party that was already swinging on the top deck. By this point, almost everyone had gotten used to the rocking of the boat and between the booze and the food, everyone felt ready to dance.

I think we could have gone till the wee hours of the morning, but by 11pm we were back at the south street seaport, ready to dock, and the party was over.
It was one of the best weddings I've ever been too, and one of the happiest moments of my life. If I had to do it over, I'd only change two things, the length of my dress, and I would have taken some pictures with the beautiful vision that was my aunt the bride.

(Photo of Grace Kelly on her wedding day by rhamlin, Photobucket, and directly linked)

"Klutziness Strikes Again!" a very long blog...lol

As far as the rest of my life goes, things are not so easy.

How is it that when my aunt says to stay healthy and no injury's before the wedding, I end up almost in the ER!
Either her words were bad luck, I have a secret subconscious sadistic side, or I live with little evil invisible gnomes who make sure something always happens to me right before some important event.
I personally think it's a mix of all three...lol

So here's the story.
I was having a quite but happy Wednesday and decided to spread the love by making my corn bread for my mother as a nice surprise for when she got home. Everything was moving smoothly... that was until I reached for a ceramic bowl from the dish rack, it slipped out of my hand, and broke.
Now my first instinct when things fall are to catch them, so I was already reaching for the bowl when it broke against the sink edge, and instead of catching the damn thing, I ended up stabbing myself deep in the wrist with a nice big jagged piece of hand painted ceramic.

What you need to understand is that this is my left wrist. The same one that got sliced open when I was 9, nicking my artery, and severing the tendons of my 4th and 5th fingers. Even years later my hand isn't the same and I still have an aversion to the sound of broken glass. So you can imagine what ran through my head when I saw, once again, the white meat of the inside of my wrist and blood pooling inches away from my old scar.

Luckily either by nature, all my years of practice at being a klutz, or both, I've learned how to react calmly yet quickly in a crises.
I immediately removed excess debris from my hand and wrapped my wrist in paper towels while applying pressure to stop the bleeding.
I wasn't sure what to do next, my mind was racing.
I kept waiting for the pain to hit me but it didn't. I felt an odd tingle/burning but no real pain.
Maybe because of the adrenalin I felt surging through my veins, maybe because I hit nerve damaged tissue, either way I wasn't gonna look a gift horse in the mouth...

I knew there was no way I was calling an ambulance when I lived within walking distance from the hospital, especially since I wasn't bleeding too bad, so that bought me some time. I looked at the clock and realized my mother would be just getting off her shift at the hospital. So I decided to call her and find out what I should do.

This all ran through my mind in seconds.

When I told her what happened, she told me to hang tight, keep pressure on it, and she'd be home in a few minuets. I then got to work with my one good hand pulling off sweats, pulling on jeans, finding my wallet and my bag.
While I waited, I took another peak at my wound and saw that the bleeding had slowed considerably, at least enough for me to properly assess the wound. It was deep but looked like it would only need 2 stitches. Maybe three if they stitched inside the flap, I mean, 2 to 3 stitches is nothing in caparison to my original scar that took about 9 on the surface alone...and thinking about this is what triggered my seed of doubt.

Maybe it wasn't as bad as I made it out to be? Maybe I had overreacted because of my history and because it's my wrist again? Maybe it didn't even need stitches?

The bleeding by this point was very slow thanks to all the pressure I'd been applying, so by the time my mother got to the building I was feeling rather pathetic, embarrassed, and frankly I felt bad because I felt like I had worried her over nothing. I started telling her right away that I probably didn't have to go to the ER, all the while showing her my wound. When she saw it, she said she could take care of it, but that if I wanted we could still go to the hospital cause it could probably use a stitch.

My heart sank...Confirmation...I overreacted...I was an idiot....

You would think I would be happy that it wasn't as bad as I thought, but instead I felt horrible.
So I told her I rather her handle it.
Last thing I needed was to head to the hospital, running into all kinds of people we both know, for something as sad as a one stitch gash.

When we got upstairs, she got to work.
First out came the dusty first-aid kit (our "Osama Bin Laden Kit"...yes it's that old...lol), and her glasses. As she was prepping, she asked if I had cleansed the wound. I told her no, and explained what I'd done. She then proceeded to put on her glasses, grab my arm, and drag me under the light over the butcher block (she can get a bit ruff in emergency mode...lol)

She froze.

I could see something bothered her, but she shook whatever it was off, and proceeded to check it.
Since neither of us were sure if the wound was clean, she brought me to the sink, turned on the faucet, and ran water over my wrist.

I was blinded by a searing flash of white hot pain...

That was the pain I'd been waiting for...
I gasped as it stabbed through my wrist and made me cry out, but like the macho I am, I didn't pull my arm away. She apologized repeatedly as she continued to rinse my wrist under the water, washing away the caked dried blood and any debris that might have been left over. After she was sure the wound was rinsed, next came the iodine.
Just seeing that dark orange stain and smelling it's unique odor brought back memories of my many past mishaps. The iodine didn't hurt as bad as the water thank God, just a low burn that lasted a few annoying minuets.

After everything was properly coated, she placed a gauze pad over it, and grabbed the ace bandage. Because I have a tendency to get annoyingly inquisitive when in crises mode, I asked her why the ace and not the gauze roll or adhesive tape? She simply said she wanted to keep the pressure on it till she could find some steri-strips to use. I thought it seemed a bit much but who was I to argue.

It wasn't until a little while later, when she was applying the steri-strips, that I really noticed her concern.
She way too quiet, way too careful, way too business like about applying each strip, and while examining it she made her "I don't like this" noise (best way I can describe it is as a sort of a "hmm" like when you question something but don't what to say anything), but when I asked her about it, she just gave me the classic "everything's fine" line.

That was it...I knew something was up, but by this point I was crashing from my adrenalin high, and the pain was pushing through my weakened senses.
She finished by wrapping the ace over my wrist again, and this time I knew better then to ask why.

The next day I woke up sore from head to toe, probably from all the previous days tension, but I was determined that this stupid injury wasn't going disrupt my routine.
I went about my day as I always do, even exercising (though careful not to stretch my wrist and doing mostly lower body).
By the time she came to check on my injury, I had sweated straight through the steri-strips and they needed to be replaced. But when she saw the wound, she again became very focused, quiet, and made that noise.

Well the noise did it....

I'd had enough with being placated, and I was determined to find out why she kept acting funny when she looked at my wound. So I confronted her about it.
At first she denied being worried, but when I described her behavior, even down to the little sound she makes, she laughed then came clean.

She was worried about the wound.
At the beginning it didn't look like much to her, but once she saw it in the light, with her glasses, she realized it wasn't as small a wound as she thought. Every time she looks at it, she's worried that it's gonna get infected, or it wont heal right. Then with a sigh she told me that it probably would have been best if we had gone to the hospital to get it stitched up. She just felt like she may have made a bad call....

Now I was confused...
First it was bad, then it wasn't, now it is again...
My head was spinning...

But...I realized at this point, it didn't matter.
I told her not to worry. I'll keep it clean, I'll keep using the strips for as long as there needed, and if it gets infected, I go to the doc, let them check it out, get some antibiotics, and go home.
No big deal.

And that's what I've been doing...
Since then I've been able to take the ace bandaged off occasionally to let my wrist breathe, but if I'm cleaning or exercising, it goes back on. It still hurts, and the pain gets a bit worse the more it heals, but so far so good. I wont have to wear an ace for the wedding (thank God) and I have yet to tell the bride of my mishap, in fact I'm not planing to.
She'll see it the day of the wedding when I meet her to get her into her dress, and I'll probably get hit over the head for it, but the last thing I want to do is give her anything else to worry about.
I consider this experience a learning lesson for when the Apocalypse comes and we have to rely on field medicine...lol

Thanks for listening to my LONG ASS story...
I promise the next blog will be shorter...lol

Next blog "Return of the Cousins"...
(1st photo by Jelena13, Photobucket and is directly linked)
(2nd photo is of my hand after I got all taped up and my comment about the incident...lol)

"Weight Wars"...

So...It's Official....I lost 24 pounds!
BOOYAA!!!!!

That is...according to my new doctor who I saw August 9th. Can't get more official then that, and my weight was taken during the afternoon, fully clothed....:-))

Awesome!.......

I'm still busting my hump with Jillian's DVD's and stomach crunches "a la Mama" (my mothers stomach exercises which are killer by the way...she has abs of steel), but I haven't been doing much of the treadmill since the DVD's take so much out of me.

I also gave up on my goal for the wedding (since it's unreasonable now that it's a week away), but that doesn't mean I give up on my overall goal of weight loss and healthy living.
I'm still exercising at least 3 times a week and eating healthy has gotten easier. Before it was a fight with my cravings and the emotional aspect of food. Plus food is a big part of my culture as a Puerto Rican, so there's a strong social quality to food for me.

But tricks like serving myself, using smaller plates (both of which help me to control portion size and prevent over eating) , making sure I try to have salad with every meal, making sure there's more salad on my plate then anything else, and eating the salad first so as to fill up faster, are all common sense things that have helped me to lower the amount of calories I consume. I can still enjoy the traditional foods I grew up with, just in smaller portions. I've also almost completely cut out soda, but occasionally, like maybe twice a month, treat myself to a coke if I've been good, almost treating the soda like I would a dessert.

If anything my progress just encourages me to keep going, and my new goal of another 30 pounds by November doesn't seem as impossible now that I'm properly motivated.

I'm so tired of being unhealthy. If it isn't one thing, it's another.
I've never let anything beat me down and I'm not about to start now...
So here it goes...
WOOOHOOO!!!...lol..................................................................................

Next blog "Klutziness Strikes Again!"...........
(Top photo by Ray_Harris, Photobucket and is directly linked)
(Ticker thanks to Tickerfactory.com)

Should I share Now or Later...hmmmm...?

So I'm debating whither I should share my body changes since I started this "Run My Ass Off" "Break My Ass" campaign.
I wont lie...the prospect of putting out the actual numbers for the world to see (actually more like 5 people..lol) is a frighteningly anus tightening task (say that 10 times fast).

I mean...it's one thing to see my fat ass in person, where I can try to camouflage all my wobbly bits with some dark deceptive shading and flowy fabric, but it's another to actually give out mathematical numbers that you can compare to African wildlife...
But since I seem to be spewing all my other embarrassing shit in this lovely little blog of mine, why not add another smoker to the pile.

Now...don't get all disappointed...but I can't post my weight changes because my scale (which was an old relic covered in dust and hidden under the tub) is dead, and I'm too broke to buy another one (yes I broke it...because I was bouncing on it like an idiot...don't ask)
But...have no fear...I have been taking measurements at least once a month to mark my body modification progress.

I had some basic measurements from March, which I've been using as my control, and I was planning to compare them to measurements I took a week ago. My plan was to wait till the day before the wedding to post them since that was my original goal date...but I'm impatient (always have been...lol) and I'm not sure what difference a little over 2 weeks would really make.
Plus...if I'm gonna do this shit...I got to do it like the way you rip off a band-aid...fast and painless (which is a lie told by sadistic parents who are tired of wasting their time watching their kid slowly peel off the damn band-aid!...sorry...um...went a ranting there...lol)...

So while writing this dribble, I've decided to post the measurements Now and then take new ones after the wedding to post Later...
Let's see if over 2 weeks makes any sort of difference...
Here we go...

March                           July 
Hips : 47 inches             Hips: 44 inches 
Waist : 38 inches           Waist: 33 inches
Bust : 43 inches             Bust:  41 inches

Now...I'm not completely happy with the results, because I know I could have done better then this, but I have to be honest and remind myself that I didn't truly put my whole heart into the exercising/eating right thing until June, where I promptly freaked the fuck out.
I may not have reached my goal, but it helped get my large butt moving, and finally pushed me over that hurdle (more like a 30 foot wall) of not wanting to change my life.
I've already set another goal for November when I will hopefully be going to Cancun, so I don't intend to stop once the wedding is over. I'm taking this as far as I can before something happens (which it always seems to do and why my nickname is Murphy...lol)

Though I may not be entirely happy (cause I'll still be fat for the wedding) I'm constantly reminded of how much has changed with the loss of a few inches. I fit into jeans I haven't worn in over 2 years, people say (as if surprised) that I look good without me fishing for it, I can walk further, run faster, and I think I look better, but that's my own personal opinion ;-)

So that's it...
If I can get to a scale I'll see where I am in comparison to the last time I was on a scale (the night it died), then I'll post that in my after wedding blog...
As for now...I'm feeling the effects of the benadryl I took, so it's time for bed...

Peace OUT!!!

(beautiful "Pin Up Measuring Tape" photo by LaurenCollins7's Album, posted on Photobucket, and directly linked)

HOLY FUCK NUGGETS!! 17 days and Counting....

I'm freaking out...
Weddings just around the corner...
I got my bra and It Fits!(thank GOD!), so I'm all set on the dress front and I am 34/36 G (fuck...)
I'm still stressing about my makeup since it's a wedding and all, but I'll have to wing it when the time comes.
Got my hair appointment, flowers have been ordered, and the clan starts arriving in exactly 2 weeks (Yay!). But what I keep having stress palpitations about is Dancing!!

What the hell is wrong with me that with all the things I got to worry about, that's the one thing that keeps popping back into my head like an evil little gnome.
It's usually attached to some other worry like not being able to dance in my heals, the dress being too long for me to comfortably dance in, are my arms gonna be covered enough for me to feel free in my movements, will I look fat dancing on the video.
All this stupid shit is running through my head and I feel schizo cause half of me is worrying about it while the other half is asking myself why the fuck I'm worrying about such stupid crap (yes...sometimes I talk to myself...or rather curse at myself...so sue me).

I've always been embarrassed about dancing. I don't know why.
Yet not with dancing on a stage...I was always fine with that, but dancing at a party or at a club, always made me feel self conscious.
I know I'll be with mostly family, in fact more family then's ever been together at one time, but for whatever reason thinking about that doesn't help.

Ahhh FUCK IT!!!!....I can't think about this shit anymore...I got bigger things to worry about...like my last 2 weeks of exercise...lol

(Photo by riah12162008, provided by Photobucket, and directly linked)
(just thought the photo was funny and I feel like I look like him...lol)