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Archive for September, 2011

Final Inches Aftermath

I wrote a letter to my ass a long time ago on this blog that I’m going to dig out and post here now. Then, before and after Final Inches pictures.

Hello Ass,

– and I feel I can address you with the informal “ass” because I’ve known you for quite a long time-

I would like to ask you a simple question: What’s your deal?

I’ve put off writing this letter because I kept feeling that things might improve on their own. Yes, I’ve had three children and sure I’ve slacked off at the gym over the last months…okay year, but still. Why have you turned on me? What did I do – besides the occasional cookie binge – to make you go so completely soft on me?

Is it because I’m in my forties? Is that why you’re mad? If so, I understand but I’d appreciate it if you’d find another way to communicate with me instead of just dimpling up in anger and losing any semblance of muscle tone. My stomach hasn’t reacted this way so why you? My arms are hanging in there too. What makes you so special?

Is this about me not doing those Cardio Barre classes that I signed up for? Or maybe you’re upset that I blew off the entire Pilates craze. But cut me some slack. Didn’t I do the “Buns of Steel” video four or five times in the late 90?s? Maybe that wasn’t me. But, still I thought about it. And you can’t argue that there have been tons of times I’ve found myself on all fours like a dog kicking my leg up in the air behind me in the most undignified fashion. That’s called spot toning, Mr. Ass. I’ve also subjected myself to machines called Butt Blasters, tried good old fashioned jogging and drank more than my fair share of water from an Evian bottle that went everywhere with me (although I stopped short of buying one of those netted bottle holders -too corny) But you are refusing to do your part.

Although I’ve lost most of my pregnancy weight you will not allow me back into my prepregnancy jeans. At least not without a fight. When I do shove you into a pair, you stubbornly hang over the top in what we gals like to call a “muffin top.” Sounds cute, Ass, but it’s not. Trust me on this.

How can we make peace with each other? At the rate we’re going I fear I will have to break down and buy some Spanx. Neither of us want that. They will be uncomfortable. Let’s work this out before it gets any uglier. I look forward to a time we can face a three way mirror together.

Sincerely,

Me

Well, I’m happy to say that things have improved due to my #fatsuckage.

Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on September 27, 2011 3:56 amFinal Inches19 comments  

I Recommend This Book

So we all know I love to snark. And despite my book loving ways, I will even (or especially) snark on books as seen here in my Babble Voices Ban These Books entry. But sometimes it’s just good to love on things! Over my many years of parenting, I’ve read a lot of books, some great, awful.



Here’s what I’m enjoying right this minute: M.O.M. (Mom Operating Manual) by Doreen Cronin and Laura Cornell – you know those ladies who bring us all the Click Clack Moo books. They’re best sellers and all that jazz. Anyhoo, this book is a manual for kids all about taking care of mom. It gives them valuable advice on the care and feeding of us parental units. I was given this book as a gift (an advanced copy YAY) and have been getting a million smiles from reading it to my 6-year-old who thinks the page about taking care of mom’s hair (“mothers love to have their hair combed, brushed and styled. There are also various accessories you may wish to experiment with -huge pink bow, jaunty beret, sparkly barrettes” is hilarious. Possibly because she is always trying to put crap in my hair!

My favorite is from a part about “minor malfunctions” which describes “snapping.”

“This will be your mother expressing everyday language, but at a heightened volume and accelerated or unusual speed.  For example, ‘Put your shoes on, please’ may sound more like Putyourshoesonplease! or PUT your SHOES on. PLEASE! Likely cause: You won’t put your shoes on. Quick fix: Put your shoes on. ”

I also like the description of Exercise: “Exercise is essential for your mother’s peak performance. it also gives her a legitimate reason to put on her favorite sweatpants and leave the house alone.” I’m actually wearing yoga pants as I type this and I DON’T DO YOGA PEOPLE!

And now, I’m tired but tomorrow I will make a list of some of my other all time favorite books for kids. So keep coming back!

 

Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on September 21, 2011 8:38 pmBooks7 comments  

Tutus and Tomboys

I’ve got one twin (Sadie) who loves  twirly, swooshy pink dresses and has never met a tiara she didn’t want to immediately put on her head.

 

She rules the castle with an iron fist though and lately she’s been getting some major push back from Matilda. Basically Matilda has entered a tomboy phase like nothing I’ve seen before in any of my friend’s children. She has determined that she dislikes anything for girls.

It’s strange because when I found out I was pregnant with my first daughter, I really wanted a girl. I just had a gut instinct for parenting a daughter. I know girls, I get girls, I am a girl. It’s not that I”m a girlie girl though; I feel more comfortable in a pair of jeans, I can’t accessorize for shit and I could care less about redoing my bathroom. But I like to talk about feelings. A lot.

When I found out I was going to have twins, my first thought was that I hoped I didn’t have two boys because I’d be so screwed. When I found out I was having two more girls I was ecstatic! The clothes! The ponytails! The nail polish! The glitter (okay not the glitter)!

So this Matilda thing is throwing me a bit. I wrote all about it here on my Babble Voices blog. I’d love your thoughts.

 

Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on September 19, 2011 5:50 pmUncategorized7 comments  

Thinning The Herd

“Oh my God, girrrl, you have lost weight!” was one of the first things someone said to me the other day. “What’s going on?” he continued while looking me up and down pointedly, the way only a gay man can do legally.

“Um, yeah, I have been working out a bit,” I told him.

“No, you have lost a lot of weight! You look great!” So why did I want to punch him?

I guess I have lost a little weight. By a little,  I mean a little. A twenty pound chunk has not been removed from my ass nor have I suddenly begun starring in a sitcom and dropped eighty pounds of stress weight leading me to deny rumors on TMZ of my raging eating disorder. I simply had my laser lipo, returned to the gym, and switched to sugar-free popsicles.

Now, lest you think I’m about to bitch about something (which I am wont to do), let me preface this by saying that I feel great and am exceedingly happy with my Final Inches results -so happy that I will be posting the afters just as soon as the film is developed (digitized, uploaded, whatever) from my “after” photo shoot today. The thing is, it just doesn’t feel like a good compliment when someone insists you’ve lost a lot of weight. Doesn’t that imply that I had a lot of weight to lose? Did this guy think I was  floating around like the Goodyear blimp oblivious to my insane fattiness and he’s just relieved that I finally got a handle on it? Or am I a paranoid freak?

There was a time back when Elby was about 18 months old, that it came to my attention (and the shrink I began seeing for anxiety) that I needed to go on Zoloft. I started on a dose of 100 milligrams. I was panicked that I’d gain weight. The antidepressants can do that to you. But my shrink assured me that even if I did gain weight it would only be a couple of pounds; a couple pounds I could certainly live with if it meant people could more easily live with me.

Weirdly, I began losing weight. It was fantastic! I wasn’t even trying! As far as I could tell I was carb loading in front of the TV as per usually and exercising with the exact same low intensity I always did, but the weight kept dropping.  As I got thinner, the compliments were rolling in so naturally, I figured I must be doing something right. My clothes fit better and then they were too big and I had to go get smaller sizes. Finally, when I was under my thinnest weight even for me, my husband started getting worried.

I mentioned it to my shrink and he said it wasn’t related to the Zoloft because Zoloft doesn’t have a weight loss side effect. I made an appointment with my physician. Meanwhile I got really really skinny. My friends got worried and thought I was anorexic and my husband started pushing Ensure on me six times a day. That when I realized that I really didn’t feel like eating much. I know some of you are reading this and thinking, “Shit, I gotta go get on Zoloft stat!” But it wasn’t a good thing. It didn’t look good.

But let me tell you what’s fucked up: People who hadn’t seen me in awhile would constantly tell me how fantastic I looked. Even when I knew I no longer looked trim, just gaunt, the compliments rolled in. That can really screw with your mind.

It didn’t take Dr. House to figure out the problem though. My doctor ran a few blood tests and then told me that the Zoloft can definitely have a weight loss side-effect and I should decrease the dose right away.

When the dose came down, the weight rose up and slowly but surely I went back to my normal weight and the compliments about my weight stopped. But I looked better. So whatever! Now I don’t trust anyone but myself to tell me whether or not I am in shape, especially not a gay man who is vehemently opposed to a J Lo booty. But I will say that I do definitely look better after my laser lipo. We’ll let the pictures be the judge. More on that soon.

Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on September 14, 2011 4:34 amUncategorized3 comments  

I’m Not Obsessed

So I’m watching Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and I can’t help but be a little obsessed with how unreal everyone on this show looks. I mean, listen, I’m completely sold on laser lipo now. I think we all know that. Yeah, FINAL INCHES BABY! So, I’m all for looking great, especially if it’s within your grasp. What I can’t get down with is spending all my time and energy on my looks. Maybe it’s because I’m too lazy which I’ve blogged about ad nauseum (p.s. I’m almost 100% sure I misspelled nauseum and yet, too lazy to look it up! See?) but it just seems so tedious to go to the gym every single day, plus only eat a bunch of whole grains and fruit and then keep on top of Botox, laser treatments, skin smoothing creams…what am I missing here? The truth is, now that I’ve experienced a little shortcut, I can’t see doing it any other way.

Why would anyone kill themselves to be thin when you could have a quick little procedure and just get ‘er done in an hour? I think the answer to that question is that some people, especially people in the “industry” spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about their bodies, feeling scrutinized and trying to live up to an impossible ideal. I would think that when you spend that much time thinking about it you can’t help but to put those thoughts into action and go body crazy, hiring trainers, spending crazy amounts of money and time to look like one of the Real Housewives, snorting cocaine…

I am nothing like this. I’m a writer. There’s such great comfort in knowing that if I want to, I can just throw on sweats, peel off my contacts, put on my glasses (with one arm off the glasses attached loosely by masking tape because…I have twins!) and make a living. Sort of.

On the other hand, I still like to look cute once in awhile which is why I’ve decided I’m all about moderation in all things beauty. Unlike alcohol, I don’t find beauty to be addictive.  I can’t have one margarita but I can have one treatment of Botox and leave the rest alone. I can go to the gym on a Tuesday and not return until Friday. Sure I get itchy the day after I’ve had a gym fix and I try to go again but if there’s no one to watch the kids, I stay home. And while I’m home I don’t try to do some kind of 70’s Perfect era Jane Fonda workout tape either. I just read US Weekly and snack. And, yes, I like a pricy moisturizer but when I run out, I’ll grab a jar of Oil of Olay from CVS and use that while I save up for my Estee Lauder. The point of all this is, I find it so peaceful to accept the things I cannot change, change the things I can and try to know the difference.

Now let’s all go have some fat suckage, bitches!

Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on September 7, 2011 6:07 amUncategorized9 comments  


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