Underneath it All

Here is my precious family.  When I look at this picture I am quite convinced that I have everything a girl could ever hope for.  So why have I been so focused on how I look during my "Forty Days of Fabulous?"  Why does it matter?  I have asked myself this question over and over throughout my life: “Does it matter how I look?” This question brings to mind a quote from the Jim Carrey movie, "Liar Liar."  The little boy looks up innocently at his father and states, "My teacher says that beauty is on the inside," Jim Carrey responds, "Yeah that's just what ugly people say."   

In the end, beauty, goodness, kindness, and worth truly come from inside.  When I am 90-years-old, on my deathbed, I probably won't be too concerned that my purple bouffant looks a little lopsided or that I had to roll my bosoms into my bra earlier that morning--I will be content that I led a good life, lived how I believed, and was surrounded by the people I loved most.

But...

I also believe that how you look on the outside can be a reflection of how you feel about yourself on the inside.  At least I know this is true for me.  When I am lonely, tired, feeling like a fatty, or like I just don't measure up to all the "perfect" moms in the world, I allow myself to look sloppy.  I guess it's sort of a weird self-punishment.  I tell myself, "I don't deserve to look beautiful, so why try."  I started this "Fabulous" program as a way of proving to myself that I do, in fact, deserve to look beautiful.  It's a kind of self-improvement therapy starting from the outside, moving inward.   I’m becoming beautiful on the outside AND inside…like a Kardashian.  

Getting Ready

A couple funny things about getting fancy for the day:


1. I look completely ridiculous in the process of hair-do.  Case in point: Velcro rollers.  My daughter Ally said "Mom, why do you have those little tunnels in your hair?"

2. Sometimes husband wonders if the look is complete but is reluctant to ask.  Example below: pin curls.  He asked, "So are you going out with those little buns on your head?"  



He was relieved to see that the result was the picture below and not some weird experiment with a rebellious, youthful look. 

3. Sometimes you hope that Thursday's hair and makeup will carry over through the next morning.  But you end up with a Freaky Friday:

The Morning After Day Deux

The best thing about choosing to spend an hour to curl my hair on day 2, Sunday, was that I didn't have to do my hair on day 3, Monday. I rocked my aftercurl. This was a wonderful thing because, as you can see, I was very tired that morning--so tired, in fact, that I had little brown bags under my eyes. 

If you scroll down, tilt your head and look a bit closer--you'll see the little bags.

 

Day Deux

Below is my Sunday look.  I used a 1" ceramic curler.  The first look I call "Happy," the second, "Magnum for Moms."  I've really had fun with this.  A collegue of my husband's said, "You know you've really been looking pretty these days."  I tried not to resent the fact that she sounded seriously surprised.  I said "Thank you.  I'm trying to pull it together--this whole two kids thing really threw me for a loop."  Maybe that awkward comment distroyed my fabulous, but I didn't mind.  I strutted out that door like a Beverly Hills Housewife free of emotional problems.  And I reminded myself, "Work it Girl!"

Forty Days of Fabulous

I’ve been tired and moping around for a while and I’m tired of being tired and moping around.  In a weird way, it is comfortable in this little rut and oftentimes being comfortable, for me, means looking like a slob.  In an effort to get excited about life and show myself a little more respect, I started a program on Saturday called, “Forty Days of Fabulous.”  Every day, before I show my face in public, for the next forty days, I will have styled hair, sensible makeup, and normal clothes (normal clothes meaning no random t-shirts, sweatpants/pajama pants, or hot-air-balloon sized frumpy shirts that hide everything and make me look 50 pounds heavier than my already heavy frame).   It is day four and I feel great.  Here are the pictures from day one.  They're a little goofy, but I'm goofy and will always be no matter the fabulousness.  Stay tuned.



Poop

     My oldest daughter had an accident the other day which involved poop and her wiping some of that poop on my arm.  Details omitted for the sake of our relationship and for the sake of any future mean girls in junior high (which is when, I believe, mean girls are the meanest).  So imagine me, with poop on my arm, disgusted.  My daughter is exhausted and therefore uncontrollably giggly about the whole thing.
     "You never wipe poop on people, never, ever," I say in a very non-yelling, but stern voice. "That is terrible!" I say.  She stops giggling and we head over to the bathtub.  As she climbs in, her lip begins to shake, then her chin, she sits in the running water, covers her eyes and lets out the most heartbreaking sob. 
    "Mom, you broke my feelings, Mom."  (She likes to use my name twice for dramatic emphasis) 
    "When I said 'That is terrible?'" I guessed.
    "Yes," she responded, "It was such...strong language, Mom!"

    Hopefully you will forgive my strong language as I attack the delicate subject of poop.  Yes, poop: the thing that is usually brown and smelly, and when you're getting healthy amounts of fiber, curved, or as Doctor Oz says, "C-Shaped."   I haven't paid particular attention to which alphabet letter my poop most resembles, but poop happens every day, if I'm lucky twice a day, and that is that.  I hadn't given much thought to poop, until a little over four year ago, when I became a mother.  Suddenly this stinky thing that I had long forgotten became a regular topic of my life's work and conversation. 
    "Did you see the meconium?" The doctor asked, referring the baby's very first poop--a sticky, jelly-ish, dark-brown, almost black, tar-like substance.  And after a few weeks, more questions about poop:

    "How many poopie diapers does she have in a day?"
    "What color is her poop, is it kind-of yellowish?" 
    "What is the texture of her poop?  It should be thin and slimy, almost greasy-looking."
    "Are you beginning to see the seeds in her poop?" (little pebbles in breastfed newborn baby poop)
    "Are her poops becoming less frequent, and thicker now?" (..."Now that you have ruined her life and switched to formula?")

    Poop is an overall barometer of good health.  Oh yes, and behavior.  Have you ever dealt with a constipated baby, or worse, a constipated TODLER?  You won't believe how much you value poop until your toddler is constipated.  And then of course there is the inevitable potty training.  I remember calling my mom two years ago completely panicked when I caught my daughter playing and coloring with her poop. 
   "Is it normal for kids to play with their poop?  Did any of your kids (one of my sixteen siblings) ever play with their poop?"
   "Oh yeah, oh yeah, your older brothers used to carry it around in their little, toy dump trucks and zoom it across the room.  And some of them liked to sculpt it, it's ok, it just means they're very artistic.  Just clean her up, and go out and buy her some play-dough or something."  I was stunned to silence.  You learn amazing things about your own mom when you have kids. So I stepped back and thought,  if my mom can deal with poopie dump trucks, I can deal with this isolated poop incident.  And I did.  We cleaned up and went shopping for a more suitable sculpting medium.

    The next time someone calls you, or something you do, a piece of S....Something stinky like poop, first, unfriend them on Facebook, then say "Thank you."  Because poop is essential.  There are many caring hours spent by moms across the world as they decide how to best wipe it up and toss it out.  Poop is a major labor of love in this life, so let's not give it such a bad name.

Blog Description

I’m having a very hard time pinning down a description for the top of my blog.  What would a visitor to this site most need to know about me and why I am writing?  Um...I don't know, how dare you put me in a small box!   The weight loss blog was easy "I’m fat, read all about my struggle to lose weight."  It was clear, concise, vision, direction, motivational poster with inspiring image of a tiny lighthouse standing amidst a tidal wave. 

This blog is more all-encompassing.  So I quickly jotted down some ideas for my blog description.  It must be a catchy one-liner that describes my life, which will of course be written in pretty cursive, accented by a crafty, flower background. 

Here’s what I came up with:

1) Me and my talkie talk

2) The world is my oyster, but oysters taste like day-old, throat-lugies

3) A regular mom on her way to glamorous and awesome, as soon as she cleans out the Toyota Corolla

4) I really want to be skinny but not as much as I want to always have chocolate

5) Sometimes I sit alone in a corner and speak to the small people who live in my wall

6) I'd much rather be fat and funny than skinny and annoying

7) Does it creep you out that I kind of want a huge collection of Barbie Dolls?

8) My life is awesomer than your life

9) The daily troubles of an amazing, Einstein, genius, artistic, super-model-type

10) Where do we go from here?  It doesn't matter, because wherever that is, there will always be a   McDonalds nearby