Reading This Blog Post Will Take Unsightly Inches Off Your Hips and Thighs

To keep in touch, please email me at 100daysinbed@gmail.com with your email address and the name you go by here.

Thanks for all the well wishes when I was sick. (I'm convinced it was "Pigeon Flu" due to the filthy feathered family that has burrowed it's way into my roof. Feathers are coming out of the ceiling fan, people!)

Anyway, it really meant a lot. It made me think about how when I started this blog, my biggest goal was to GET OUT OF BED and here I was, super sick, stuck in bed.

But what was cool is... I didn't have any of those weird fears, like this time spent in bed sick was going to lead back to the time where I couldn't get out of bed due to, in six months, losing my job, breaking up with my boyfriend, a death in the family, having to move back home when my Mom got sick, freaking out about finances and growing a second ass due to my affinity for eating all things Frito-Lay during my malaise.

That made me think how far I've come: to someone, who just over a year ago who literally had to make a pact with myself to get out of bed during daylight hours, and as a way to slough off a depression, forced myself to do an adventure a week would jolt me back to living life the way I knew I wanted to. (Check out any of the entries that start with "Adventure Bowl" to read those.)

Now fast forward and everything I hoped riding suri bikes or flying on a trapeze or taking skim board lessons or pool crashing would do for me, has done that and 1000x more. I lost 20 pounds, I gained an awesome job, I ended some friendships, I made some new fierce ones, I started some great volunteer work, I started with a new therapist who is so amazingly insightful and kooky that I love and most of all, I don't wear pajamas 'til 3pm anymore.

This is like, a life, I could have never seen a year ago for myself.

So I am going to continue doing what I've been doing, carving out time for me to surprise myself with something that ("cheesey" alert) gives back to my soul. It's weird, but I am telling you, if you go ride a ferris wheel today, you will be smiling for week.

Giving time to yourself, doing unexpected things - you will be shocked what it can do for you.

Fears will be overcome.

You will let go of things that don't matter.

You will laugh more which will attract good, fun, caring, loving people wanting to be around you.

You will stop complaining because the happier you are the less you complain. Also, the happier you are, the more you want to stay happy. So you become solution oriented. You fix problems as they come up because you don't want them to interfere with your happiness.

You get rid of things you don't need. Possessions don't make you happy, the life you create does.

You begin to see people more clearly. That's a hard one. But it will force your hand to see who can stay and who has to go.

You start to feel if you can do this (your little adventure of the week) maybe you can do anything. When you set goals and attain them, it pushes you on with confidence to make new, bigger goals.

So, what am I saying?

I'm saying, yes, I am still going to do my weekly adventures and I'm still going to write about them. It excites me (dork-ily) BEYOND WORDS, if this can be the change in a year with me, how much more can I change? (Exciting!) But right now, hmmm... how do I put this?

When I started this blog, I never expected it to be read by anyone I would actually know. But then I had to show examples of my work and I showed a printed post from here and in the meeting, when they said, "What's the name of the blog?" and I looked at them completely blank for thirty seconds - not wanting to tell and not wanting to lie, so then I told the truth and then it's like, "Oh, shit, are you really going to hire me when you find out that I used to hide under a Hello Kitty comforter surviving on string cheese and Cheetos because my whole life had imploded around me?"

Yeah, they were really going to.

But then, that made me want to edit future posts because, I didn't want them to really, really know about my life. I mean, I'm figuring it out, I make mistakes. I can be koo-koo bananas. It's not the way you want people who are paying you, to know you.

Then personally it came to bite me in the butt, too. I told one person and that person told many people about this blog. Which is their right. And my fault. Hey, I put this ball in motion, it all comes back to me.

But I kinda thought since we were kind of besties and my blog was anonymous, and it was dealing with subjects THAT I NEVER TALK ABOUT, it would be obvious that I didn't just want anyone I know in my "real" life reading it. Like, if you know me as super private, and you know I never told anyone about my cousin's death and my Mom's illness, and if you know especially, there were these certain people I would never talk to about these things... then I'm not sure why you told these certain people about this blog.

Weird.

But now, I can see these certain people looking on my blog all the time. They are not my friends, they are not in my life. Some of them in fact, are very much out of my life. And then I heard the gossiping about this and that...

Let's put it this way, my Mom and cousin are not going to be "this and that." So, this will have to be some people's last visit here. So drink it up, unfriends! This blog is going away. At least for you.

But I got ahead of myself.

So I found myself editing myself and not being quite candid, and even the tone of the blog, of wanting to be honest as anything, has really changed.

But I don't want it too.

So, I decide, here's my plan: I take a little break and then I pick up and move to a new and delicious and ANONYMOUS new blog site.

Yay!

Don't worry, everyone who has ever left a comment will know where I am.

As for the break, that's really for me. I have a business trip and a fun trip and a big project due and I just want to BREATHE, regroup, relax AND relaunch.

So it's gonna be a while.

But thank you guys, like for everything. This blog has saved my life. And I know I can exaggerate and I know I can be wickedly sarcastic and oh, my God, so, so, overly dramatic.

But I'm being honest about that one.

I'll keep checking back here. I always read comments and I promise to respond if you guys have questions or anything. Love, love, love you.

Okay, why aren't you running out to go ride a ferris wheel right now????



This post is dedicated to BEAUTIFUL READERS. You're the ones I like best.

You Probably Shouldn't Mention To Oprah That I Once Wanted to Tell Her To 'Shove It'

This is a phone call between me and a good friend... so I'll refer to this person as GF.

Me: What's up?

GF: Okay, I didn't want to say anything but I thought that the post you wrote about finally realizing the importance of writing in your gratitude journal was really awesome.

Me: Awww, thank you.

GF: And... I have a friend of a friend that knows someone who used to work for Oprah and I am going to get them to get your post to "O" Magazine!

Me: (unsure) O-kay...

GF: You don't seem that happy. THIS IS OPRAH! The Oprah! What if she loves it? What if she has it published?

Me: No, that'd... that'd be great.

GF: You know, I really went out of my way to call around and see if I could even attempt to get it to her people and now, you're not exactly acting the way I thought you would.

Me: It's just... I guess if I had known, and believe me, I know you did an unbelievable thing, but if I had known, I would have changed the title of the blog post.

GF: What was it again?

Me: "Sometimes I Really Wanted To Tell Oprah To Shove It."

GF: (long silence, then): Uh-huh.

Me: No one who works for Oprah is going to recommend to Oprah an article where someone says they once wanted to tell Oprah to "Shove it."

GF: No, they are not.

Me: Which means...?

GF: I probably wasted a lot of time.

Me: You kinda did.


But I still looooooooooovvvvvvvvve you for it. With extra Os and Vs... that's love I never give out.


This blog is dedicated to the awesomeness that is housesitting.

Look Who Lost 20 Pounds By Her Birthday

I'll write longer soon. Just wanted to check in and say I had the BEST birthday ever... the festivities started last Friday night and they continue tonight with dinner and drinks near by.

And the best gift?

When I stepped on the scale yesterday (the real birthday)... I couldn't believe I am now down 20 pounds.

I was kind of surprised as I haven't been the most rigorous with my program of late. Fried ravioli and wine anyone?

So... here's to hallelujahs, happy birthdays and half off jeans at Old Navy. I already need a new, smaller pair!

Sometimes I Really Wanted To Tell Oprah To Shove It

Around the time my cousin passed away and my life was falling apart and I was eating a lot of 7-11 danishes; I was scheduling my day around Oprah because if anyone was going to make everything okay, it was Oprah.

Only Oprah, didn't make everything okay. Oprah made it worse.

Oprah was telling me that the key to solving all my problems during the downward spiral of my life was... (wait for it, wait for it...) for me to keep a gratitude journal.

Where I would write down what I was grateful for.

And I was thinking, "Is she f*&%ing kidding me?"

Supposedly, keeping this journal was supposed to make me concentrate on all the wonderful things I did have and not focus on the things I didn't (ya know, like a happy, healthy family, boyfriend or job).

It really made me resentful someone so rich, who had access to anything she wanted in the world, was telling me that what I needed to do to get happy was to go buy a $1,000 Kate Spade lamb skin journal and list all the things I was grateful for.

(PS, she did not tell me to buy a $1,000 Kate Spade lamb skin journal, that in fact, probably doesn't even exit. But when Oprah held hers up, it resembled something luxurious and that probably cost more than my monthly rent. And I cannot confirm, though I am probably sure, there is one less pink lamb in the world.)

Then, my therapist, who obviously went to the Oprah Winfrey School of Psychology, told me to do the same thing: Keep a Gratitude Journal. I imagined her watching Oprah and taking notes, "Tell all patients to make a gratitude journal, bill them $100 dollars."

I was BEYOND furious about this. Really, this is the best you have for me? I mean, I am really falling apart here. (7-11 danishes!)

But I did it, I wrote in my damn journal, because I'm a good girl and good girls do what they are told.

Now those were dark days and I just could not find anything to be grateful for. Somedays I would just write, "My dog." My therapist kept telling me that a day would come that I would have more things to be thankful for.

(She heard that on Oprah and was just praying it come true, lest I fire her and move on to a therapist that was watching Dr. Phil and was at least going to tell me to, "Get real about my life.")

So there I sat with my journal and wrote that I was grateful for my dog and the day that would come where I would not having to go to therapy anymore.

Then, I don't know how, but things started to change. I started noticing that everyone around me was complaining so much. About the little things. Things that to me, felt trivial. I felt like I knew what real problems were. They are people dying, watching your loved ones suffer and losing the ability to provide for yourself.

I started getting involved in a social network where people are dealing with illness and sometimes, terminal illness. They worry they won't live to see their children graduate grade school, they are having their home foreclosed on because their disease is so expensive, a teenager is asking for prayers for her sister who needs 7 surgeries that week.

And then I woke up.

Any of these people would trade their lives for mine, like I wanted to trade my with Oprah. To them, I have everything.

And then I realized, I have A LOT to be grateful for.

Tomorrow is my birthday and I can't think of one thing I want. That is the definition of a person who wants for nothing. How could I not see to be grateful for that?

Now I shoot things off in my gratitude journal like Oprah's favorite student. It was by seeing the things other people take for granted that I could see what I was taking for granted in my own life.

I started to see with wider eyes, the people in my neighbor hood collecting cans just to eat. A listing in the paper about a foreclosed home made me think of the family that lost the roof over their head. A friend losing their insurance because they lost their job made me feel lucky I could go to the doctor.

So I wrote and I wrote and I wrote. Health. Shelter. Food. Friends, really great friends. Family and family beyond just my family, that I could turn to if things got financially bad. Health insurance. Clothes. The ability to take care of myself.

Oprah.

Mostly Oprah.

It's kind of changed my life.

Because when you are not bitter and you are not feeling sorry for yourself, you get a lot done. Positive things. And then more positive things come your way. And then your life is swirling into something better than you imagined... it becomes something you could never see that you could create in the days of thinking you had nothing.

I'm not saying all dark days are behind... but I don't want to tell Oprah to shove it any more. And I haven't for a really long time.


This blog is dedicated to letting go of bad things so some more good things can come in.


You know what makes the perfect holiday gift, besides bourbon? This post! Send it to some friends by using the little email envelope icon below!

Let's Have A Contest!

Here's the deal... the adventure that I picked from my Adventure Bowl is to go hot air ballooning. I can't wait!

The thing is, I am so crazy busy, there is no way I can do it now. I mean, I could if the hot air balloon had Wi-Fi so I can work on my laptop. But I'm just guessing that will take away from the experience.

So instead, I'm going to write something fun and light AND will involve a contest where there will be cash and prizes. Okay, not cash... I just liked the way "cash and prizes" sounded. Like a real game show.

And technically, it's just "prize" and not "prizes" so I'm basically a big ol' tease.

Lately, I've been addicted to Facebook, mostly fascinated by how INSANELY personal some people's status updates are. Really? You want your boss (and other potential bosses) to know, "I really shouldn't have gotten black out drunk the last four nights."

That one is for real.

How about, "I really want more of what I got last night. Mmmmm." Yeah, we know you're not talking about Christmas chocolates. You're a whore. I'm sure a very nice whore. But still a whore.

So this is the contest, I want each of you to make up the most ridiculously funny, inappropriate and outrageous Facebook status report you can. The one that makes me and my friend S, who is a comedy writer too, laugh so hard we pee our pants a little, WINS.

The prize, it's gonna be good... bath stuffs. If you're a guy, not bath stuffs. Maybe a canned ham, instead. Maybe some old thing in a my apartment I just want to get rid of... like a naughty Chihuahua.

Kidding, ya can't have him.

Okay, you have until Wednesday, December 17, 5:00 PM (PST) to come up with the best-est one you can. Multiple posts are okay.

Here are some of the ones I made up:

FACEBOOK STATUS

1) is freaked out that she dirty danced with her uncle at the wedding last night.

2) just learned the dangers of mixing white wine and Xanax at the company Christmas party.

3) drunkenly shaved off my eye brows last night and I am FREAKING out.

4) just slashed my ex-boyfriend's tires. Oh, well! Maybe he shouldn't have slept with that slut he works with.

5) thinks the guy I took home last night might be dead. Blue lips aren't good, right? Oh, hey! Anyone up for chocolate chip pancakes?

Good Luck. I can't wait!!!!



This post is dedicated to chugging cappuccinos and exciting deadlines.

How To Scotch Tape Your Dog To The Bed

I know I owe you a post about my unexpected in-town vacation. But listen, # 1, I have something else to blog about and # 2, I am so going to disappoint you my story about the ten man shower.

See... it was a shower that could fit ten men in it. At no time did it have ten men in it. Although at one point, me and this guy were in the shower together.

Only, he's gay and I was just showing him how awesome the view was from the bathroom.

Yeah, it's way sadder than you could ever image. I wish I had a better story. I wish I had slipped a Tylenol PM in some cute guy's drink down in the lobby bar and then used a wheel barrel to scoop him up and deposit him in my ten man shower - which by the way, had a built in bench in it because the things that are supposed to go on in the ten man shower - you need resting for...

Yes, I am aware of the orange level of pathetic-ness on this one. Hence, the not writing any more about it.

Here's the real drama.

My dog Cooper, who I have an admitted unnatural attachment bordering on a Maury Povich guest appearance, got really sick while I was gone.

Apparently, before he was dropped off at my friend's house (he could not come to the hotel with me because it's in the downtown area and he is so spoiled he does not poop on concrete), he ate one of my Thyroid pills.

I must have dropped one on the floor.

The signs of Cooper's trouble included, and I hope you are not eating your lunch, explosive diarrhea, throwing up, uncontrollable pooping on expensive couches, foaming at the mouth and hiding under a guest house.

I whisked him off to the vet and was mortified when the blood test came back the next day to say Cooper had eaten one of my pills. It was my fault. I was officially a bad mother. (Though I was so glad I had just given him a bath and cleaned his ears - to me that was the dog equivalent of wearing clean underwear to the hospital.)

There was a lot of guilt, crying, fretting, beating myself up. I was scared he was going to die. And I was so insanely grateful that he didn't. This dog means everything to me. In a way that could be used against me in a trial.

Now that he seems okay, of course, I am out of my mind with worry about what else might be lurking on the floor that I can't see that Cooper might eat.

That's when I came up with the idea of scotch taping him to the bed.

I think it's a good idea. Even better than dosing a cute guy with a Tylenol PM and kidnapping him via a wheel barrel into a ten man shower.

My pup's weak now, so scotch tape will work. As he regains his strength, I might need something more durable to tape him to the bed with. Like duct tape. Of course, that might hurt his fur so...

I'm thinking first, I put him in his sweater, then I duct tape him to the bed. Then I can just remove him in and out of the sweater so he can go to the bathroom when he needs to.

Then again, I could just... you know... vacuum my entire apartment.


This blog is dedicated to knowing it could have been worse. And having a little fun with something that scared the hell out of me. And mustard garlic pretzel bits.

Posting Tomorrow...

In which I will be talking about the importance of friends, in-town vacations, hotel roof tops with water beds, sneaking in your own champagne, eating Doritios for breakfast, how trash baskets double as ice buckets for beer and wine, giggling in a ten man shower is good for the soul and the memory of apple pie on a paper plate falling in the hotel lobby will always make me burst out laughing and mostly...

how unplanned things can be the best things.

Beautiful Disaster

I highlighted where Part 2 starts because I like you.

My boyfriend once told me I was a "beautiful disaster." I didn't mind because I just heard "beautiful" and that was it.

Also, because it's true.

In work life, I am super organized. I am copious, I know where everything is. It's right under neath that pile of binders, scripts, notepads, post-its and pens that have no ink.

Yeah, disaster.

I'm cool with my work life way of being because it works for me, meaning, it does not hold me back. I always get my work done and always on time. I like having everything I need around me... I'm good with it.

Now, where being a disaster affects me is in my personal life. I would like to not have you over right now because I don't want you to see that I am a perfectionist... but in a bad way.

See, I can't recycle magazines. I have to sort them by theme and then by those themes, divide them into piles according to which hospital, clinic or dialysis center I will bring them to. I can't take clothes to Goodwill, that's what everybody does. I am a perfectionist so I have to scour out the most random shelter and bring them there.

But not until I have sorted them between stuff a teenager could wear (that goes to one shelter), stuff a woman could wear to an interview (that goes to a different shelter) and day-casual (that goes to a shelter all the way across town, the one with no parking... but I'm definitely going there... one day.)

Yeah... perfectionist.

Well, "perfectionist" until I am completely overwhelmed by piles and boxes and random bags of clothes.

If you knock on the door and I let you in, do not look surprised.

PS, the perfectionist in me wants you to know that my place is super clean. You just can't tell because you can't take your eyes off the pile of "Shape" magazines that are stacked to the ceiling.

So I have this talk with my shrink because life has really turned around amazingly for me recently. I have a great job and my butt is shrinking in ways that make me say "Yes!" with a fist pump when I try on my jeans.

I feel good. I want everything to look good.

I have this wish for this place that I live in and love and this is not it. I read "Does This Clutter Make My Butt Look Big?" by that organization guy who's always on Oprah. I get that this is a problem.

One issue is I am sentimentally attached to stuff. For instance, when my Dad was really sick when I was 12, we had to get 10,000 signatures from people in our state to protest that my Dad was going to get kicked off his health insurance because they didn't want to pay for his expensive, life saving, take his heart out and replace it with someone else's surgery.

When it was all said and done (we got the signatures, we won, he got the surgery), my Mom threw out the reams and reams of paper with people's signatures.

And I crawled into the garbage to get them.

Beautiful. Disaster.

We stood outside of churches, grocery stores and gas stations to ask people to save my Dad's life. And they did. And I wanted to be close to the people that had done it. That made my Dad be alive.

Maybe that's what all this perfectionism in donating clothes or magazines or other things to "the right place" is all about. I want the people I'm donating to, to feel cared for. Like some busy person rushing into that Stop N' Shop all those years ago made me feel by taking the time to sign that petition.

Part 2

Long story short. I xoxoxo my new shrink but when I talked to her about my weird "donation" hoarding she pegged me as possibly slightly ADHD and said some people cannot be expected to organize for themselves because they are "too genius."

OH, COME ON!

I mean, I lapped it up... but even I know that is bullshit.

She was trying to convince me to hire someone to organize me and my possessions and all of a sudden I was having some kind of freaked out vision of all my stuff being laid out in the drive-way while a camera crew from "Oprah" filmed me while I cried over an old Ritz cracker canister that I couldn't part with because it had too much meaning to me.

When someone tells me I can't do something, I become quite determined that, "Yes, I can."

I decided to go all Obama on my living room. Here's what I did:

I got some colored masking tape and I taped off 10 zones of my living room. All of a sudden everything became a manageable 2 x 3 area which I could attack daily. I had to be merciless and when I couldn't be merciless it went into a "Deal With This Later" box.

Everyday I have to deal with one zone. Buh-bye, off it all goes to be donated or recycled or thrown away.

I realize if someone walked into my apartment and saw masking tape lines everywhere, they would think I'm crazy but what's crazier - figuring out a way to do this myself AND overcoming a huge hurdle or having to pay someone $300 or $400 bucks to do it for me?

You let me know what you think. I'm about to tape square boxes all over my bedroom floor.

Genius.


This blog is dedicated to eatin' pants.

The Best Calorie Free Treat

Yesterday, after I left the gym, I stopped at Trader Joe's to pick up some groceries. On the way out, I saw this homeless man and he asked me for some change. I literally only had 32 cents.

32 cents is not going to get anyone any where or any thing.

I said, "Are you hungry, do you want a sandwich?" He looked completely shocked. "Yes," he said. "Turkey? Do you want turkey?" (I tend to take charge of things).

He said what he really wanted, and let me know I could get for the same price, was a Pizza Hut Personal Pan pizza... pepperoni.

I just thought... there was something so sweet about that.

I asked him if he would like a soda, too. Again, he looked at me with such a sense of surprise, it let me know the moments of compassion in this man's life were few and far between.

Lately, I've been thinking of all the things I have and how frickin' lucky and blessed I am. I don't even mean monetary. I have clothes, I have shelter, a hot shower every day. I have health care. I have friends who love me. I have a job.

We forget about the little things. Or, I guess I should say, we forget about the big things.

I did this little bit of volunteering and this girl emailed me saying I would never know what it meant to her what I had done for her. I told her - she would never know what it did for me. Just like that man yesterday, it totally filled me up...

So, it's right before the holidays and we are all hustling and bustling. But I wanted to give you guys some super ways to help other people that are easy and will fill YOU up and make you happier than 2 Twinkies and a glass of milk:

1) Ask everyone in your office to give you their old magazines. Then drop them off at a hospital, clinic or dialysis center. You will be loved!

2) If you're gathering friends for a holiday party, ask everyone to bring some clothes they don't wear and set them aside and then take them to a women's shelter. The women will act like you just gave them the keys to Macy's, that's how appreciative they are!

3) If you know someone in your neighborhood is sick, offer to walk their pet.

4) Tossing out some old sheets or blankets? Take them to your local pet shelter.

5) Keep a couple of McDonald's $1 gift cards and if you see someone who asks you if you can spare some change, buy them lunch instead. Smile, you just made someone feel like they matter.

6) There is a man who comes on my street looking for cans and bottles to turn in for change. Some days I see him with his 6 year old son and that breaks my heart. Now I keep my bottles and cans aside and give them to him when I see him so he doesn't have to rummage in a 4 ft. bin.

7) Do you have a winter coat you never wear? I think I have more than I need. You can donate your extra coat to a shelter, you can give it to someone in need (maybe keep it in your car, trust me, you'll find someone), also, there are winter coat drives - search for one online.

8) This is reader Noble Savage's awesome idea. "Last year I made up 15 Christmas packages for the homeless, each one with a pair of gloves, a scarf, a warm hat, a chocolate bar, a first aid kit and some toiletries. It was very rewarding and I got everything from thrift stores or dollar stores. The looks on their faces when I handed them a gift and walked away was priceless."

9) Sponsor a family for a Thanksgiving or Christmas meal. Call a shelter, Vet center or search online. You can send an email to five friends and ask them to pitch in $10 dollars each. That $60 dollars will feed a whole family (maybe more) and make them be able to stay home and have a real family Thanksgiving or Christmas.

Have I overwhelmed you? Given you too many ideas? Well, you're in luck!

I'm going to give you the name of the shelter where I am sponsoring a family. I just sent a mass email to all my friends, so the hope is I might be able to sponsor 3 or 4 families. Feel free to grab an envelope, put ten bucks in it and send it off right now.

Here's the info: Amanecer Community Services Administrative Offices, 1200 Wilshire Blvd, Suite 500, Los Angeles, CA 90017. Attention: Laura Gonzalez. Tell her the money is to sponsor a family for Christmas dinner.

You will feel so good making a difference, putting a smile on someone's face and most importantly, making someone feel like they are loved.


This blog is dedicated to little bits of love.


If you do something kind... even if it's in a week or a month from now, write back in and inspire us with your story.

I Lost 15 Pounds :) Yay Me!

Yep, I did it. And I'm gonna do it again so I can get to 30 pounds lost.

I don't mean to brag but I rock, y'all.

The other day I was in a fancy meeting with all these big time people but since I'm a writer I like to dress super cas (as in casual) even though I'm usually so nervous I want to throw up or have diarrhea.

So anyway, I bust out THE JEANS. "The jeans" are the jeans in the next size down that didn't fit that I bought hoping they would one day fit, even though I swore I would stop buying jeans in next size down that would one day fit but do not fit right now.

But they were so cute!

Dark denim.

They were on sale for only twenty dollars!

C'mon. I can resist a donut but I cannot resist cute, dark denim on sale jeans for twenty dollars.

I try them on for my meeting. They will not zip. I lay on the bed, I lay on the floor. Nope, they ain't zipping.

Okay, I have a plan. I drive to the meeting with unzipped jeans on. During the twenty minute drive to the big fancy meeting, the jeans will probably stretch.

They will HAVE to stretch! Dear God, I hope they stretch.

I pull into the valet and he watches me curiously as I am jumping up and down and trying to zip my unzippable jeans.

I get them up on the third try! Yay! Now it's just the button that will not button. I can keep them unbuttoned but then it looks like I am smuggling something under my shirt. Not good. I bust a move for the ladies room.

It's there that I get the button of the jeans buttoned. Problem: I am now restricting blood flow from the top half of my body to the bottom half.

I decide it's totally worth it because I look good. Fifteen pounds lighter in a size smaller jean. AMEN!!!

I am sitting with the super important people and this is the part where you make small talk but all I can think about it how I am probably going to pass out and then they will have to call an ambulance and then a fireman will come and have to cut me out of these jeans.

I'm asked by one of the very important people, "So what's new with you?" I couldn't speak, I didn't know what to say... I couldn't think of anything funny, witty or charming when the only thing I could see is a swarm of executives watching me being cut out of my jeans and revealing the giant grannie panties I bought in a six pack at Target.

So I say: "Um... I went on a diet and lost fifteen pounds and thought I could wear the next size jeans down and basically I'm just sitting in these super tight jeans waiting to pass out and then have to be emergency air lifted out of here."

The whole room cracked up laughing.

I won them over. I did not die. I looked super cute for the whole hour. I was confident, composed, attentive.

And at the end of it, I smiled, I said my goodbyes and then I ran like hell to my car, unbuttoned my jeans in the parking garage and drove home.

If you like this post, send it to a bunch of friends by using the little envelope icon below. When you do, men will chase you down the street and invite you out for shrimp cocktails.


This blog is dedicated to just doing it.