Don't Say Mole...I Said Mole!

Moles. Who really wants to discuss them? Look at them? Unlike Cindy Crawford, not everyones are as fashionable and iconic. I've had a mole, for as long as I can remember, on my upper lip. It's small and doesn't really stand out. I have never really contemplated waxing my lip because I have blond hair and am afraid of pain. However, yesterday I was in my car on the way to a meeting and I felt something odd on my upper lip. A course, long hair. When I got to my meeting place, I pulled down my visor mirror and couldn't believe what I was seeing. A lone, rogue black hair.

When the hell did that appear? It had to have been overnight since I know I would have noticed something like that. I was at a loss. Only 90 year old women develop such an unsightly growth. And this one was taunting me. As I breathed out of my nose, I could feel it move. When I was talking on the phone, I could feel it flopping around. Every time I looked down to check my speed, the hair would turn and stare back at me as if it was pondering its' sudden existence on my face.

As you know, I carry an emergency kit in my car for the events that I plan (see "Fat Gods" post). I couldn't find the tweezers, however, I did find a small pair of scissors and thought I would be able to fix it all before running in to talk to my professional peers. I grabbed the scissors, got back in my car and just as I was getting ready to lift them to my lip...

Knock. Knock. Knock. Wrapping on my drivers side window. I looked up and noticed one of my fellow professionals standing next to my car. I didn't want to call attention to my lip...so I opened the door and pretended that I had a string on my sweater that I was trying to get rid of. Problem, I couldn't find a string...so I actually pulled a small piece of my sweater and cut it...producing a small hole that will inevitably develop into a larger hole, most likely in front of a group of strangers, at a later date.

Long story short, I ended up having to put the scissors away and walk up to my meeting place with this bonehead...and spent the rest of the meeting acting like I was thinking really hard by covering my upper lip constantly with my hand.

And the status of the hair you ask? I came home from my meeting, went straight to the bathroom and plucked like a mad woman! Mark my words, I will wax the next time this happens - and yell "Kelly Clarkson" as she pulls the strip!

The Fat gods are Laughing at me...

I realize that I am overweight. When I walk up stairs, I am winded. When I shop for new clothes, my 18/20 tag is like a neon sign for everyone else in the store. When I shop for bras and panties, I buy the steel/titanium reinforced bras in standard big tit white (I never get to buy something cute and matching in pink, or purple, or green...you get the picture). And my stories about the food that I have put away! Bags of chips, boxes of crackers and cartons of cookies.

About 2 weeks ago I joined Weight Watchers. This angered the fat gods for the fat gods love fat people. And so, I had my first run in with the fat gods today and I think I lost miserably. I bought a new pair of pants at Target the other day. Now, I just admitted that I am a big girl so why would I lie about the size? However, I genuinely think they were sized incorrectly. They said size 18 but they fit like a 12 or 14 (Super tight...my fault since I never tried them on). However, I wore them with a cute sweater this morning and I figured that sitting in them on my to work would stretch them out a bit.

My office belongs to a couple of industry associations and we had a luncheon today that our entire office attended. As I was getting out of my car I heard a weird popping noise, like the sound of a zipper coming undone. I looked down and realized that it was not my zipper itself ripping, but the pants sewn onto the zipper. Holy crap...my pants were splitting at the front and I couldn't get them to stop. The entire seam ripped. I am about to walk into a room of 100 clients and fellow vendors and I have a giant gaping hole in my pants with my pink flower chonies just 'a shinin' through.


Quick on my feet. Quick on my feet. I coordinate weddings for the love of god...I can fix my pants. Thankfully, I have an emerency kit in my car for the events that I plan. I grabbed a hand full of safety pins and made a bee line for the bathroom. After a few pin pricks and some choice language, I was able to shore up my pantaloons and head out to my luncheon with a new found confidence. Little did I know that about 5 minutes after sitting down to listen to the speaker that one of the pins would come unhooked and poke me in the gut.

At the end of the day, I couldn't wait to get home so that I could change into my comfy jeans and a long sleeve comfy shirt...all of which fit me just fine. The pants, they are sitting in my bathroom trash can. I am sure that they could be fixed...but I could never trust a pair of pants that left me hangin!

Fat Guy in a Little Coat

I did it. I took the big plunge. I joined Weight Watchers. (I hope you're not mad at me Kirstie - I still love you!) So far, so good. Of course, it's only been two days but it is not bad at all. It's not a "resolution". I had a very eye opening conversation with a friend of mine a few weeks ago and realized that I really need to get this weight thing under control. So wish me luck...and keep the cow and whale comments to a minimum!

2007 - Here We Come!

Happy New Year!