Cue the Lynyrd Skynyrd song..."oooohh...what's that smell?"
Tonight's topic: I smell bad.
No..no...I really do. I bought some new lotion from the Body Shop. You know, I often wonder...what the hell was I thinking? I don't know what it is about the Body Shop, but I can drop some serious cash in there, and never use one single thing I purchase. Here's the reason: they lure you in with these wonderful smells; it's just so intoxicating. So, the friendly goth helper person talked me into making my own lotion. UM...no, I just want some of the stuff that already smells good. You know...pre-made. "oh, you will be so much happier with your own concoction".
DERRR..ok.
So...I mixed together a few things...earthy things. I remember there being some cedar in there, maybe some saffron (I really have no idea what that even is...it just sounded cool), and some other things that the helper person said would be "interesting". I really should pay better attention...I don't want to be "interesting"...I want to blend, fly under the radar. Not smell like an armpit. That being said, the concoction smelled good while I was still in the store....so I left happily with my purchase.
However, something must change in the chemistry as soon as you walk out the door. You know how chili takes a few days to develop it's TRUE flavor? Apparently the crap that I mixed up from the body shop was much like that.
It's smells like an earthy...dirty...stinky
butt. hole.
I went to bed wearing the lotion on my hands and arms and within minutes Mr. DamYankee was asking me if I had farted. Uh...no. I am wearing a new lotion. Do you like it? He started to laugh and asked if I had really paid for a lotion that smelled farty.
Not intentionally.
Another 10 minutes went by and he was begging me to PLEASE go wash it off, as there was no way he was going to fall asleep with that putrid smell next to him. It would seem that the smell grew stronger, and more like pig poo on a hot sunny day...as my hands and arms warmed up. If you have never visited a pig farm, then you really have no idea of the level of stench I am talking about. TRUST me...it's hideous. I think the only thing that would be worse might be a chicken coop...with dead chickens inside of it.
Now, to be fair...this is NOT the first time I have come to bed with something smelly on my person. I have a deep conditioner that smells like a cross between an ashtray and rotten eggs. He really loves that. And I have been known to slather a pound or two of vicks vapo rub on myself when I have had severe colds. He claims that it makes his eyes water and nose run all night, but I am sleeping like a baby when all that happens, so I can't really confirm that. I would say however, that the scented pig poo moisture body whip...was much much worse than anything else I have donned at night. Sadly, although my hands smelled ridiculously bad, they were so soft and smooth. I really hated to get rid of it, but momma always said, you can't go through life smelling like pig crap. People just won't understand.
ok...you got me...she never said that, but had she smelled it...she might've. :)
So...$25 dollars down the drain and another lesson learned. C'est la vie.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
It's that time of year again...
You know...the time of year in which you realize that not only are your fat jeans too tight, but it also looks like you've got a double set of boobs. One set that is actually inside your bra, and the other set that is squeezed out, above, under and around your bra, maybe with some trying to escape near your armpits if the problem is bad enough. Knit sweaters are NOT your friend, I'm just sayin'.
[unfortunately, this is a behind shot of this young woman!]
And yes...it's that time of year for me. On top of that, besides the health reasons for needing to go on a diet, my wonderful future sister-in-law has asked me to be in her wedding in July. While I am honored to be asked, I am very nervous about this prospect. She and all of the other bridesmaids look like super models. I really am not kidding. I...on the other hand, am going to look like a large watermelon colored SOW up there if I don't do something drastic.
You know, I haven't worn a strapless dress since the 80's, in which "the girls" didn't need apparatus made out of rebar to keep them contained. I would like to point out that my arms did not flap at that time either. I am in deep (insert bad word here...rhymes with oh ****).
So...here we are. It's January, and WAY WAY too cold for me to start walking/jogging outside, my preferred method of excercise. Mr. DamYankee is working his normally goofy hours, and therefore sleeping at the moment and my treadmill contains an assortment of clothes that need to be dealt with. What to do?
OH...I know! How about I whip out that Slim in Six DVD set I purchased off TV at 2 in the morning, 6 years ago.
6 weeks to a NEW YOU, it claims. I did use it before Lloyd and I got married, and it works, but it is HARD. Honestly, you should be in good shape before you start this sort of program.
So, yesterday morning, I psyched myself up for the Start it Up session. This is supposed to be the "easy" one. The one for lard butts (like myself) that haven't excercised in a LONG while, and need to learn the basic moves, while not sending them into cardiac arrest. (I can look forward to that 2 weeks from now...YAY).
So, there I am, water bottle in hand, workout clothes on, living room cleared...ready to begin. It really does start off easy...(that's just to lure you in, I'm sure). Three minutes in, I know I am in deep trouble. They are kicking left, I am going right. They go forward, I go backwards. Even Cole, who is participating...notices that mommy "isn't doing it right". Thanks, son...you really just don't miss anything do you?
By 15 minutes in, I am no longer doing the squats. I can't...because my leg muslces have turned into quivering jello. I can no longer feel my butt, which I am sure is KEY in the whole "squat move". I half-heartedly imitate the arm moves, as that is the only part of my body that seems to be responding to any commands.
20 minutes in...it's LUNGE time. hahaha...I lunged once, and stayed there. There was no "popping" back up. The hateful wench on the DVD, with her perky little smile, and perky little everything...well, I just want to slap the crap out of her. I really do. Especially when she seems to be so condescending..."if you are too weak to do the full move, just do the 1/2 lunge...like THIS!". Even Cole seems irritated and wonders when I will be putting the Penguins of Madagascar back on. VERY SOON, son.
The next set...pushups. SERIOUSLY? I am afraid that if I get down on the floor, I will be stuck there. I picture Cole waking his daddy up, telling him that mommy has fallen and can't get up. 911 being called...me being wheeled out on a gurney while all the neighbors watch.
Oh gosh, what happened to DamYankee? Heart attack maybe?
No...she went down for a pushup, and never got back up. Her muscles have completely quit working! She's stuck!
So...I did two struggling girly pushups...out of the 100 or so that are supposed to come to me "easily" over the next two weeks as I build up my strength. I did think it was pretty funny that even when I was 1/2 way up my girly pushup, my boobs were still firmly planted on the floor. I may need to bring out the "binder". The workout bra so tight, you are guaranteed to look like a 12 year old little girl.
30 minutes later, and 100 or so crunches, and other assorted ab moves, 1 downward dog, and 1 mountain pose...I am through. WOW...
I feel terrible.
I mean AWFUL.
I crawl over to the couch, and stayed there for the remainder of the day. I kid you not. No chores were done. No dishes washed. No laundry completed. I did manage to scrape myself off the couch long enough to get 3 advil and some water.
Today, I can't walk down a set of stairs, without grabbing hold of my leg and flinging it down to the next step. I am eating advil like they are tic tacs. And in one hour, I get to go home...and do it all again.
I am just SO excited. No. Really.
[unfortunately, this is a behind shot of this young woman!]
And yes...it's that time of year for me. On top of that, besides the health reasons for needing to go on a diet, my wonderful future sister-in-law has asked me to be in her wedding in July. While I am honored to be asked, I am very nervous about this prospect. She and all of the other bridesmaids look like super models. I really am not kidding. I...on the other hand, am going to look like a large watermelon colored SOW up there if I don't do something drastic.
You know, I haven't worn a strapless dress since the 80's, in which "the girls" didn't need apparatus made out of rebar to keep them contained. I would like to point out that my arms did not flap at that time either. I am in deep (insert bad word here...rhymes with oh ****).
So...here we are. It's January, and WAY WAY too cold for me to start walking/jogging outside, my preferred method of excercise. Mr. DamYankee is working his normally goofy hours, and therefore sleeping at the moment and my treadmill contains an assortment of clothes that need to be dealt with. What to do?
OH...I know! How about I whip out that Slim in Six DVD set I purchased off TV at 2 in the morning, 6 years ago.
6 weeks to a NEW YOU, it claims. I did use it before Lloyd and I got married, and it works, but it is HARD. Honestly, you should be in good shape before you start this sort of program.
So, yesterday morning, I psyched myself up for the Start it Up session. This is supposed to be the "easy" one. The one for lard butts (like myself) that haven't excercised in a LONG while, and need to learn the basic moves, while not sending them into cardiac arrest. (I can look forward to that 2 weeks from now...YAY).
So, there I am, water bottle in hand, workout clothes on, living room cleared...ready to begin. It really does start off easy...(that's just to lure you in, I'm sure). Three minutes in, I know I am in deep trouble. They are kicking left, I am going right. They go forward, I go backwards. Even Cole, who is participating...notices that mommy "isn't doing it right". Thanks, son...you really just don't miss anything do you?
By 15 minutes in, I am no longer doing the squats. I can't...because my leg muslces have turned into quivering jello. I can no longer feel my butt, which I am sure is KEY in the whole "squat move". I half-heartedly imitate the arm moves, as that is the only part of my body that seems to be responding to any commands.
20 minutes in...it's LUNGE time. hahaha...I lunged once, and stayed there. There was no "popping" back up. The hateful wench on the DVD, with her perky little smile, and perky little everything...well, I just want to slap the crap out of her. I really do. Especially when she seems to be so condescending..."if you are too weak to do the full move, just do the 1/2 lunge...like THIS!". Even Cole seems irritated and wonders when I will be putting the Penguins of Madagascar back on. VERY SOON, son.
The next set...pushups. SERIOUSLY? I am afraid that if I get down on the floor, I will be stuck there. I picture Cole waking his daddy up, telling him that mommy has fallen and can't get up. 911 being called...me being wheeled out on a gurney while all the neighbors watch.
Oh gosh, what happened to DamYankee? Heart attack maybe?
No...she went down for a pushup, and never got back up. Her muscles have completely quit working! She's stuck!
So...I did two struggling girly pushups...out of the 100 or so that are supposed to come to me "easily" over the next two weeks as I build up my strength. I did think it was pretty funny that even when I was 1/2 way up my girly pushup, my boobs were still firmly planted on the floor. I may need to bring out the "binder". The workout bra so tight, you are guaranteed to look like a 12 year old little girl.
30 minutes later, and 100 or so crunches, and other assorted ab moves, 1 downward dog, and 1 mountain pose...I am through. WOW...
I feel terrible.
I mean AWFUL.
I crawl over to the couch, and stayed there for the remainder of the day. I kid you not. No chores were done. No dishes washed. No laundry completed. I did manage to scrape myself off the couch long enough to get 3 advil and some water.
Today, I can't walk down a set of stairs, without grabbing hold of my leg and flinging it down to the next step. I am eating advil like they are tic tacs. And in one hour, I get to go home...and do it all again.
I am just SO excited. No. Really.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)