Friday, July 30, 2004

Bounce Bounce Bounce

I just ate ice cream cake.







Body Demons

Zoot just posted this about an article on Kirstie Alley in People. One of Zoot's comments was:

The cover says she weighs 203lbs now, along with her quote "I like who I am." I must have decided in that split second, that I needed to know HOW?! I mean - I am like any mentally warped, weight obsessed, insecure American woman. I am constantly wishing I was just a bit smaller, while simultaneously trying to just "be happy" no matter what size I am.

Boy, do I understand that. Having...well, I was going to say "struggled" with my weight, but that's not really accurate. I have always been overweight. Always. As a child, I was generally 20-30 lbs. heavier than the doctors liked. I reached my full adult height (a whopping 5'3") when I was 13 and I probably weighed 150 which is about 15 pounds overweight for my height based on current BMI charts. That's the lowest weight I have ever been at my current height, and I didn't stay at 150 for very long.

But, I can't say that I have "struggled" with my weight. Quite frankly, I've never really tried to lose weight before now. I half-assedly dieted a couple of times, but I never really thought I could lose weight, so why really try?

I didn't have any health issues affected due to my weight (like high blood pressure or diabetes) until last summer (you can read about that here). I wasn't teased as a child or a teen for my weight. I know that sounds truly amazing, especially after hearing about so many overweight girls who have been/currently are being made fun of. So, why try to lose weight?

The diagnosis of sleep apnea certainly pushed me into losing weight last year, but I do know that being heavy has affected me. Even as a child, when people asked if I wanted to grow up and get married someday, I would always say no. Not because I truly didn't want to but because I believed that no one would want to marry me because of my weight.

That deep-down belief has affected the way I relate to men today. I see them as friends most of the time and nothing more. Why would it be more? They won't be attracted to me. That belief is so ingrained that I don't even notice when men flirt with me. Why would they flirt with me? My mother has had to point out when guys have flirted with me in the past. I'm that clueless. As a result, when they do flirt, I miss it and don't give back any signals that encourage them further. Kind of puts a damper on things, don't it?

I am working on my body and body demon issues. I am 68 pounds lighter today than I was one year ago today. I just bought new jeans in a size that is 4 sizes smaller than when I started out. I still have a way to go, but there are some days I feel like quite a hottie. But, those days are rare. Even when trying on these new jeans yesterday, I was thrilled that I was down another size, but I kept looking in the mirror thinking, "Oh, I wish my tummy/thighs/upper arms would go down more, then I'd be happier."

I know, I mean really know, that having smaller tummy/thighs/upper arms won't make me happier. It really won't. Now I just wish I could believe it.

Thursday, July 29, 2004

Kitties is Cute and Funny

If yer bored, go here for some of the best/cutest/funniest pictures & videos of cats.

Some Things You Just Don't Need To See

I walked in on my parents having sex when I was 13. So, I was well old enough to understand exactly what was going on.

It was about 9:00 pm and my best friend had called asking if I could spend the night with her the next night. I told her my parents had already gone to bed and that I couldn't ask permission. She said, "It's just 9 o'clock. They can't be asleep, yet. Just go ask."

So, I went to their room and knocked on the door. I heard my mom say, well, I thought she said, "Come in." In retrospect, I'm sure she said, "Hold on."

I opened the door and there they were. I won't go into details, but suffice to say, they aren't your standard missionary position types.

I stammered something non-English and shut the door. The next morning at breakfast, my mother said, completely non-chalantly, "Did you need something last night, sweetie?"

"Ummm...yeah...Alix wanted to know if I could spend the night tonight."

"Sure. Have fun."

In some ways, I was scarred. I didn't need to see that. In others, since my mom handled it like it was completely natural and no big deal, my attitudes towards sex are like that.

100 Things, 31-60

(You can see 1-30 here if you are so inclined.)

31. I am the middle of 5 kids. I have 3 sisters and 1 brother.
32. My brother is the youngest (insert evil cackle here).
33. His wife has thanked all of his sisters for our contributions towards making him the wonderful husband/father/man he is today. She knows his sisterly beatings training guidance is partly responsible.
34. I love Buffy the Vampire Slayer with an unholy love.
35. Also, Angel.
36. I even have action figures.
37. You know how everyone has one band that is their guilty pleasure love? Mine is Bon Jovi.
38. Money does not make the world go 'round. Chocolate does.
39. I am single. Never been married. Never lived with anyone.
40. While I would like to get married, I'm okay with not being married.
41. I've come close to getting married twice.
42. The first guy really just wanted a wife. Not necessarily me as that wife. Any wife would have worked.
43. I'm really glad I figured that out.
44. The second guy...well...let's just say he has issues and he's working on them, but his issues are too complicated for me to deal with.
45. I had an epiphany while watching a Jennifer Aniston movie, The Object of My Affection. In this movie, Nina (Jennifer's character) falls in love with a gay man, and they end up being roommates. At Thanksgiving, the roomie and his boyfriend, another gay couple, and Nina hang together. One guy from the other gay couple points out to Nina that the way she has structured her life (look at all the gay people) will severely prohibit her finding and falling in love with a man.
46. Most of my friends are gay. I honestly don't know very many straight people. Nina and I are very alike in that regard.
47. After my epiphany, I have consciously tried to meet more straight people.
48. I don't know how successful I am at that.
49. I am a cancer survivor.
50. I was diagnosed with stage 1-2 follicular thyroid cancer in 2002.
51. When I heard the words, "You have cancer," all I could hear was this buzzing noise in my head.
52. After 2 surgeries and radiation, I am cancer-free.
53. I have to have another body scan soon to make sure, tho.
54. Everyone told me that if you have to have cancer, thyroid is the best kind.
55. There's a good kind of cancer?
56. I'm a Scorpio.
57. But, I don't really know much about astrology, so I don't really know what that means.
58. Except that people fear me.
59. I don't mind that so much.
60. I love scallops.

More later...

Wednesday, July 28, 2004


Michelle Obama on her husband (and my boyfriend), Barack:

Marvin Gaye is one of his favorites. He loves to sing "Let's Get It On."


Oh, yeah, ba-bee.

My New Boyfriend

I am not the only one who is in love with my new boyfriend, Barack. This article from The New Yorker is quite the lovefest. From the article:

Kirk Dillard, a leading Republican senator from the Chicago suburbs, looked chagrined when I asked him about Obama. “I knew from the day he walked into this chamber that he was destined for great things,” he said. “In Republican circles, we’ve always feared that Barack would become a rock star of American politics.” Still, Dillard was gracious. “Obama is an extraordinary man,” he said.

If you missed his speech last night, you can hear it here. Or, you can get a video clip here.

Tuesday, July 27, 2004

I'm In Lurve

I'm in love with Barack Obama. While I find him cute, that's not why I'm in love. I'm in love with his spicy brains. Get ye to the DNC web site to read his speech and you'll see what I mean. I would have his babies, but his wife would probably not like that, so I'll just have to settle for voting for him.

Region Broad thinks Barack (yes, I can call him that, we're close) looks like Oscar Proud from the comic strip the Proud Family. She also thinks my Barack lurve is weird. Whatever. She doesn't understand the spiciness of Barack.

In other news, non-Barack related, I only gained .4 this week at weigh in! Yay!! Considering that I ate like crap at the parents', I'm pleased with that. And, I earned 3 APs for cycling 30 minutes. Whee!

Could I Be More Pretentious?

You Are


You are a beautiful person, in a wistful kind of way. If you could, you would spend all your time daydreaming and writing poetry. You are a tragic beauty.

You are sensitive and caring, and you don't take insults well. You don't smile much, but when you do, you really mean it.

People like to be around you because you are a calming influence. You have an appreciation for all things beautiful, and you probably have some potted plants. You also most likely own a cat.

You like Sundays and hot tea. You will spend your entire life yearning for quiet beauty, which is a rarity in this world, so you read a lot.

Everyone you know thinks you're "nice."

Take the Which Led Zeppelin Song Are You? Quiz

Linky from Zoot.

Monday, July 26, 2004


Went to the gym tonight for the first time in over a week. Kicked my ass. I did walk one day while at the parents'. Then, I walked all over Six Flags on Saturday, but that's the only exercise I've gotten in 10 days. Tonight, I earned 9, count them 9, APs:

10 min treadmill = 1
50 min free weights = 4
30 min elliptical = 4

I'm gonna be tired tomorrow.

Oh, who am I kidding? I'm tired now.

Not Fat Enough

This is a new one. I was online last night and I get an IM from some guy I've never met before. I don't usually IM people I've never met, but I was bored so what the hell? The conversation didn't last very long cuz, it seems, I'm not fat enough for him. He likes his women 400-plus pounds. At the very least 300-plus. Even at my heaviest I wasn't 300 pounds.

When he found that out, he asked, "Well, are you at least plus-sized?"

I answered truthfully, "It depends on the cut of the clothes. Some things I need plus-size, some things regular size."

Him: "Oh, well. I like large ladies. Goodnight."

There really is someone out there for everyone, I guess.

Saturday, July 24, 2004

Shake Yer Thang!

So, after my rant about male strippers, I actually went to a strip club last night. My sister and I met the Boys for a lovely supper at an Italian restaurant then went out for a couple of pitchers of cosmos followed by a trip to the gay strip club.

Earlier in the afternoon, sis had come by my office after her day of wandering through downtown Chicago. My coworker, T., found out that we would be going to the strip club, so he have me a dollar that he signed with instructions that I had to place it in a g-string.

A few observations about the experience:

1. The strippers can't dance. A couple could move okay, but they couldn't really dance. The male stripper dance, however, was spied. And, I did laugh. Couldn't help myself.

2. The place was a lot smaller than I expected. The dance floor was only about 10x10 with one chair and a sad pole.

3. It's not really a strip club. It's more of a stand-around-and-dance-in-underwear place. Sis: "Show as much of your booty crack as possible without your weiner falling out." That sums it up. 

4. There was one guy who looked like he came straight from 1984. Bandana around his head, white g-string with 4 inch long turquoise fringe hanging off the front, knee-high black leather boots. My sister's comment about him: "I bet that face he makes when he dances is the same one he makes when he takes crap." Yep.

5.  There was one guy who was quite a hottie. Gave the sis palpitations. But, she chickened out and wouldn't give him a dollar.

6. There was another big, hunky guy that gave me palpitations. I gave him T's dollar and he kissed my cheek. Awww....

7. It was not sexually appealling at all. At. All. The guys were kinda hot, but didn't make me hot.

8. The crowd was mostly gay men with a handful of women (like around 5) and 3 she-males. One of those guy/girls had the biggest boobs I've ever seen. Random comment from one of the gay guys who walked by us, "Look at those titties. It's amazing she doesn't fall over." When gay men are commenting on your bazoombas, they are too big.

So, all in all, it was an interesting experience and one I don't feel I need to repeat any time soon. If ever.

Friday, July 23, 2004

I'm Aliiive!!!

So, after over a week, I'm back to posting. Quick update on the doings of Kaffy:

Last week, work kicked my ass in a serious way. We're doing a Big Project and I'm responsible for a big chunk of it. It's getting done slowly but surely.

Saturday, I took off for Memphis (well, a tiny town about 60 miles east of Memphis, actually). My parents live there and I had planned this vacation about 2 months ago. Then, on June 17 (2 days after my dad's 67th birthday), my dad had a pretty severe stroke. Currently, he's in a nursing home undergoing physical and occupational therapy until he is strong enough to go into rehab (target date for that is mid- to late-August).

Physically, he's getting better and stronger. His left side was completely numb, but he's now regaining some feeling there. Everytime he says his left leg or arm hurts, we all get excited. Means he can feel it. The therapists have him standing and taking a couple of steps now. All with people holding on to him, of course, but he can do it. I'm pretty confident that he'll be able to walk again. He may need a tripod cane, but he'll do it. His left hand still isn't doing much more than twitching occasionally. "They" tell us that's normal and that his hand will be the last area to start working again. That's assuming it does.

The hardest part about all this is that "they" don't know much more than we do. Don't know if he'll get better or how much. There's just no way to know right now.

Mentally, he actually seems to be getting a bit worse. He is completely coherent and logical if you ask him questions. But occasionally, he hallucinates. Badly. For example, there's this redneck knife shopping show that he picks up on his satellite at home. He collects pocket knives, so he loves this show with an unholy love. The other morning, he was tearing his bed apart and when my mom asked him what he was looking for, he explained that he had lost his new knife. He had watched the knife show the night before (impossible, he can't get that show at the nursing home) and had ordered a new knife. They had brought it to him via helicopter and dropped it off that morning and he had misplaced it. Now, you know that didn't happen, and my mom explained that to him. But, all day long, he kept looking for that new knife.

He still has a sense of humor, but it seems like emotions don't quite register. He laughs and smiles (kind of lopsided cuz his left side is numb), but it doesn't reach his eyes. It's disturbing.

His mental state is really worrying my mom. If he doesn't get better (and, again, he may or he may not--we just don't know), he won't be able to left alone. Who knows what he would end up doing.

I'm really worried about my mom. She's running herself ragged getting to the nursing home around 8 each morning and staying until my dad finishes his supper around 5:30. She's worried about him. She misses her husband. And, she wonders if she'll get him back at least close to what he was before.

I drove back yesterday with my younger sister. She's going to stay until Sunday then fly back home. It'll be nice having her here. I need a vacation from my un-vacation.

Wednesday, July 14, 2004

Amen, Sistah!

Preach it!


You need a balanced diet -- balanced. Harmonious! Like a song, but in your mouth!

If you have a weight problem and it affects your health, hell yes take some pounds off -- but do it because you value your life, the life that is yours, lived by you, the person, and because you want that life to go on a long time. Do not do it because you think you can't get -- or don't deserve -- love because of the size of your ass, or because you think finally squeezing into a size 6 is going to solve all your problems, because it ain't, and the price of no cookies is just too high. Find another way. Seriously.

I do have a problem with the whole "weight is character/destiny" construct that gets us all pathologically fixated on physical size as a function of relative worth as a human being, because -- no. Wrong. Gross. Physical size as a function of fitness and nutrition? Fine. But in American culture, it's never about fitness and nutrition.

Tuesday, July 13, 2004


Down 1.8 tonight at weigh in (WI)!!! Whee!!!!

Doesn't it figure? I had given myself a stern talking to over the past week about ignoring the scale, and I go down. For the past month, the scale has not been my friend, but I know I'm doing everything right. I'm eating my points yet staying within my points, drinking all my water, getting in all my fruits & vegetables, and exercising. So, I figured I needed to change my attitude about the scale. I feel better. I'm doing it all right. The scale will eventually follow. And there you go. It went!

And, I earned 2 APs biking for 20 minutes.

My Boobs Have Names

Got linky from Region Broad

My mazabas names are Buffy and Mickey.

Take The Boobs Name Generator today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Name Generator Generator.

See, this is just so wrong. Cuz my cat's name is Mickey and I'm a big Buffy fan. Just wrong.

My Hottie Trainer Lurves Me!

Well, he loves me in my mind anyway. I was at the gym working out last night (not with the hottie trainer) and he came over to check on me and see how I was doing. And, he noticed that I got my hair cut and complimented me on it. Yes. It's true. He wants me.

Also, I earned a whopping 8 APs last night!

10 min on treadmill = 1
40 min free weights = 3
30 min on elliptical = 4

Look at me go!

I have weigh in tonight. Let's see if I'll have another maintain, slight gain, or hopefully a loss. I think I did well on points (frankly, I had a hard time counting them on Saturday) and I worked out 3 days. But, I did some weight lifting (build those muscles!) and I'm PMSing (retain that water!). Wish me skinny vibes!

Monday, July 12, 2004

My New Career

The Chicago Tribune has an article about advertising on blogs (registration required). Basically, there are folks out there who are making some serious cash, up to $5,000 per month, by selling ads on their blogs. The blogs mentioned are:

Wonkette and Gawker (owned by the same group)
And others.

So, here's the deal. I need a shitload more readers so I can quit my job and blog. Come on, y'all!! Tell all yer friends to come and read me. I need a new career.

Sunday, July 11, 2004

Do Gay Men Find Women Attractive?

So, Joe left a comment on my post about male strippers saying:

I’m a straight male so my opinion is going to be biased by my orientation, but I think that most people would agree that women are more attractive than men. ... I know a lot of straight women who tell me that they find women more attractive esthetically than men, although they are romantically attracted to men. I would be interested in knowing if your gay male friends think so, too. If not ask them if they find hairy macho men types or smooth shaved men with softer features that are more often associated with women. My guess is that they would find the latter more attractive than the former supporting my theory.

In response, I sent out a little poll to several of my gay, male friends to get their responses. They find men more esthetically attractive than women, and most find smooth shaved men more attractive than hairy ones. B. gave a kick ass response that follows:

Let us begin with a definition:

charisma n : a personal attractiveness that enables you to influence others.

I like to then plug this into an analogy, charisma is the difference between what you have and what people think you have. Said another way, male strippers don't appeal to you because you can see what they have. Being sexy is in the mind as well as in the physicality. I also agree with you on another point, males are more visually oriented than females, hence the popularity of dating sites that have pictures on them. Discovery Channel did a show about this andd figured out that men decided in 15 seconds, based entirely on sight, if they would find the person to be dating material or not. I don't know if this means that men don't like to read or dont know how to read when they are stimulated in that way.

Dont get me wrong, I am not above meeting a beautiful face in a bar... and the sitting down on it! But that is about sex not about dating. And as for the Ugly Horse Face, I mean the Lucky Horse Shoe, you could not get me in there if they had prime ribs dangling from thier necks, and since you have lobsters coming out of your ears and I have a grill, surf and turf anyone?

What kind of men do I find appealing? Well, independently breathing would be just fine. If they are not, that is ok too- as long as I get everything when it is said and done. Ok, that was way wrong but I am still laughing. I find a man with big eyes, a square jaw, full lips and a big nose to be perfect for me. I hope this helps.

I lurve B.


Early this morning, around 5, I get up cuz I gotta go visit the necessary room. I don't bother turning on the lights, of course, because I know how to get to the bathroom in my own house. As soon as I step into the hallway, I feel a squish under my right foot. I immediately think, "Hair ball." It wouldn't be the first time I stepped on a wee gifty that Mickey horked up. I quickly flip on the hall light and look down. No hair ball. I look at the bottom of my foot. Black gunk. Huh? I look back down. Roach. I JUST FREAKIN' STEPPED ON A ROACH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I almost threw up.

Thursday, July 08, 2004

Sweat Is Good

Sweat Is Good. Sweat Is Good. Sweat Is Good.

This is a little mantra I've been having to repeat to myself. Exercise has never been an easy thing for me. Quite frankly, I like being a couch potato. My body, however, seems to think that in order to work better, it needs to be worked out on a regular basis.

When I first started Weight Watchers, I knew I would need to start an exercise program at some point. So, I went slow and in stages.

Stage I: Think about exercising. Don't actually do it, mind you, but think about it. This stage lasted about 6 months.

Stage II: Put work out clothes out where I can see them. Gym shoes, shorts, t-shirt are placed in visible locations. Look at clothes on a daily basis and remind self that I need to start working out. This stage lasted about 2 months.

Stage III: Actually start moving. I chose walking. Now, I need to admit why I was forced into Stage III. I did not willingly enter this stage. I had told myself that when my weight loss slowed or (gasp!) plateaued, I'd start exercising. Well, it happened. In about February, I started having some problems with maintaining a steady weight loss. So, I started walking. Frankly, walking is incredibly boring. I wanted to shoot myself in the head just to end the monotony. Which propelled me into the next stage.

Stage IV: Start exercising regularly. In April, I bought a bicycle and started riding 3-4 times per week. It reminded me of being a kid and I had a great time doing it. Still do. I'm still riding, but only 1-2 times per week because I moved into the next stage.

Stage V: Get serious about exercising. I joined a gym in May and got 6 sessions with a personal trainer (aka hottie trainer cuz he's just so gorgeous). I now go to the gym 3 times per week and do a combination of cardio and weight lifting focusing heavily on the weight lifting. The hottie trainer wants me to build up my muscle mass because it will make me stronger and enable me to do more difficult physical activity and by having more muscle, I will burn more calories even at rest helping my weight loss.

The drawback to all the weight lifting is that right now, I'm not losing much weight. In the past four weeks, I've only lost a total of 1.2 lbs. Hottie trainer is happy with that because he is confident that I am losing fat and gaining muscle. In fact, tonight he said he'd bet his life savings on that.

So, I'm getting stronger and have more endurance. Today, I didn't get pukey with the hottie trainer! Yay! I feel pretty good right now even. That's new for me. And, I earned 6 APs! (1 for 10 min on the treadmill and 5 for 60 min of free weights.)

So, Sweat Is Good. And, I actually believe that now.

Coming Up for Air

Today has been a crap day. Started off sleeping through my alarm (I'm not a morning person and I do this with disturbing frequency) and running out of the house in time to make a 10am meeting (which I did, thankyouverymuch). The day has been full of meetings, surprisingly productive but time-consuming meetings. And, I just realized that I left my gym bag at home. Usually, not a big deal, but I have an appointment with the hottie trainer at 7, so I'll have to book home to grab my bag and get back into the city for my appointment. Yay, fun.

To whet your appetitite, I am working on results of a poll regarding gay men and which sex they find esthetically attractive. I'll post when I have it all done.

Now, back to work!

Wednesday, July 07, 2004

Be Very Afraid


This Should Surpise No One

Found this at Tenth Muse.

I am an evil genius. Of course. Fear me.

You are an SEDF--Sober Emotional Destructive Follower. This makes you an evil genius. You are extremely focused and difficult to distract from your tasks. With luck, you have learned to channel your energies into improving your intellect, rather than destroying the weak and unsuspecting.

Your friends may find you remote and a hard nut to crack. Few of your peers know you very well--even those you have known a long time--because you have expert control of the face you put forth to the world. You prefer to observe, calculate, discern and decide. Your decisions are final, and your desire to be right is impenetrable.

You are not to be messed with. You may explode.

Go here to take the quiz yourself. The Evil Genius says so.

Poetry, Schmoetry. It's All About Sex.


Golden sunlight peaks through white linen curtains
Gently caressing the pristine tablecloth with warmth.
A delicate, snowy china bowl cradles the rewards of a day spent in the blistering sun.

Petite, plump, succulent berries.
Velvety violet skin encasing a luscious interior.
Fragrant with the fresh smell of summer.

Impatiently, I forgo a spoon and attack with just my hands.
My teeth pierce the firm skin
Giving way to a viscous center that unfurls on my tongue.
My mouth luxuriates in sensation.
I eagerly lap the sticky sweetness.
The juices run and stain my hands and lips with a deep purple hue.
Not wanting to waste a drop, I greedily lick my fingers dry.

The feast abruptly ends too soon.
The empty bowl sits dejectedly on the table.
Only minute traces of indigo juice cling to the formerly pristine porcelain
Taunting me.

Tuesday, July 06, 2004


I hate weigh in's like the one today. I had a good on program week: stayed within my Points, got in my water, exercised. And, today the scale didn't budge. I suppose it's better than a gain, but still. It pisses me off. If I gain and know why, I can shrug it off. When I gain or maintain and I've had a good week? It's so disappointing. But, as my leader says, I now have two choices: keep going or don't. I choose keep going cuz I want to be in better shape. Still? Blech.

A Brand New Me (In Progress)

I suppose now is the time to let y'all know about a big part of my life. In my header, it says that I'm revamping my body through diet and exercise, and I am. In 2002, I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer (I'm sure I'll get into that more later) and had my thyroid removed. For about 3-4 months, I had no thyroid and was not medicated, so my metabolism went from it's usual slow to being non-existant. In that period, I gained 30 lbs. Now, I don't want you to think that I was some skinny thang before that happened. I certainly wasn't. I've always been heavy. Ever since I was very young. In fact, my pediatrician put me on a diet when I was 2 years old. So, how much does it suck that the girl who has always had problems with her weight gets the one kind of cancer that makes you GAIN weight??

So, after a year of surgeries, radiation, blood tests, blood tests and more blood tests, I was the heaviest I had ever been. I was cancer-free (yay!!!), but I was winded going up one flight of stairs. My clothes were getting really tight. I looked bloated.

I had also developed a cough that wouldn't go away and ended up going to a pulminologist to be tested for asthma (I didn't know that a chronic cough was a symptom for asthma!). Turns out that I do have a mild case of asthma but in the exam, the doc started asking me about my sleeping habits. He was concerned with some of my answers and ordered a sleep study.

So, I went to the hospital and got hooked up to seventy bajillion wires and went to sleep. I was then diagnosed with a moderate case of sleep apnea (where you stop breathing in your sleep). The doc wanted me to use a CPAP machine at night. Now, if you've never seen one of these contraptions, there's a pic of one here. They're hideous.

I asked the doc what I could do to make the sleep apnea better because I flat out wasn't going to wear one of those nasty things. He was none too pleased with that response and went on to tell me that without treatment (using the nasty machine), the apnea would get worse, I would have more instances of not breathing, it would put a strain on my heart, and I would prolly end up with a heart attack.

I didn't care. I wasn't gonna use that awful machine. He told me that losing weight (at least 10% of my weight) and getting regular exercise could help. I left his office and went straight to the Weight Watchers center near my house and signed up. That was July 27, 2003.

In April 2004, I started exercising regularly and even joined a gym in May. I count Points, journal what I eat, drink oceans of water, and exercise 3-5 times per week. Trust me, this is not the behavior of the girl from even one year ago. My life is very different now.

I've lost over 60 lbs and counting. Frankly, this has been one of the hardest and one of the easiest things I've ever done. I can definitely expound why it's hard:
It's hard to weigh and measure every little thing I eat.
It's hard to say no to chocolate desserts.
It's hard to get my ass to the gym and work out.
It's hard to actually work out.
It's hard to ALWAYS choose good things to eat.
It's hard to write down everything that I eat.
It's hard to do that every single day.
That's the worst part. Knowing that I'm going to be doing this every day for the rest of my life. Even when I get to whatever goal I choose (still haven't done that) I'll still be doing this. I know that if I don't, I'll end up gaining whatever I lose.

Why it's been easy is really much harder to explain. Finally making the decision and commitment to doing WW and working out was hard. Really hard. But now that I've made that commitment to myself, making the right food choices or stopping by the gym at 9:30pm after class is much easier. Because I HAVE made that commitment. I don't know of any other way to explain it.

Well, that's enough of that for now. I'm sure there will be more about my never-ending saga later.

Male Strippers Are Stupid

So, my gaggle of Boys have been wanting to take me to a strip club for a couple of years now. There's a particular club in town that caters to gay men and has, from what they tell me, some halfway decent looking male strippers. (Of course, there's also another club in town that has male strippers with sores on their asses. Dear God.) I've told them that the only way they will get my ass into the first club (cuz I ain't stepping foot in the second one) is to get me good and drunk first. Thing is, they don't quite understand why I need the aid of alcohol, so Friday night I tried to explain it to them.

Male strippers are ludricous. Women, typically speaking, are not as visually stimulated as men are. When I look at a male stripper, all I see is dick and balls floppin' around in a completely silly way. This is not sexy. At all. And, most male strippers have that godawful stripper dance. They think they're being sexy. But, oh, they're not.

Most of the Boys understood this and could see where I was coming from. Except for T. He's the most gay man I've ever known. He's not flamboyant, but the concept of a woman being a sexual object is completely foreign to him. If you want to see him wig out, just whisper "vagina" is his ear. He convulses. And, yes. I do know this for fact.

So, T. couldn't understand why I don't find male strippers exciting. His comment was, "But what if the guy is sexy?" My response? "You can see a perfectly sexy looking guy, but as soon as he starts stripping, the sex appeal goes out the window." T. looked at me like I had lobsters coming out of my ears. He just doesn't Get It.

Frankly, I find female strippers sexier than male strippers, and I don't even swing that way. I think it goes back to the male stripper dance. Female strippers don't do that. They actually dance in a very sensual way. Of course, you need to take my experience here with a huge grain of salt. The only female strippers I've seen have been on tv. I've not seen any live. I have seen one male stripper live. That was enough.

Friday, July 02, 2004

Felt Up by a Gay Man

So, I went out to dinner with the Boys tonight. After, I was saying my rounds of goodbyes (they were headed off to the bars, I was tired and wanted to go home) when A, a gay man, felt me up. Now, let me first say that he's felt me up before, so that's not really a surprise. But tonight, he went UNDER the bra with the sole purpose of trying to make my nipples hard. It worked. But, the strange part was, it made HIS hard, too. Hmmmm...

The sad part? It's the most action I've gotten in months. How pathetic is that?

Before dinner, I went and worked out with the hottie trainer. I, again, got to feelin' pukey about 50 minutes into the workout and he had to hold my feet over my head with me laying down. It's so embarrassing. And, it's pissing me off. I'm all mentally ready for a hard workout and my body just can't take it. Not yet, anyway. I'm determined to get there. I did earn 5 APs. Yay!

Oh, yeah, bab-ee!

Have I mentioned the nerd thing? Cuz, yeah.

Grammar God!
You are a GRAMMAR GOD!

If your mission in life is not already to
preserve the English tongue, it should be.
Congratulations and thank you!

How grammatically sound are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

I've Been Sorted!

Huh. I'm a Ravenclaw. I do not deny the nerd thing.

i'm in ravenclaw!

be sorted @

Well you're one smart little cookie, aren't you? You're wise and clever, and just love to use your wit and learning to your advantage, and sometimes even the disadvantage of others. Well, you nerd, there IS a world outside of that copy of 'Hogwarts: A History', ya know.. Oh don't worry! We all know you're special. You're just a naturally good learner, right? *mummble mummble* Not too much is known about your house right now.. Wow! You're not only intellegent, you're also an enigma!

Got link from Zoot. Thanks!

Winesburg, Ohio

So, I went to see Winesburg, Ohio at the Steppenwolf last night. It's actually an About Face production in conjunction with the Steppenwolf. It's a new musical based off of the eponymous book of short stories by Sherwood Anderson. The music is very bluegrassy which I dig, so I really liked the music. The set was fantastic. Lots of levels and doors but very simple and not in the way of the story. The men's costumes were perfect (it takes place circa 1890) and the women's costumes were okay. It looked like the corsets were either non-existent or not done right. And some of the hair pieces were downright hideous.

There were some fantastic performances, but the woman playing Elizabeth needed some variation in a big bad way. She had the angry thing down pat, but it would have been nice to see something else, like maybe bitterness, sadness, and you know that empty feeling you get when you've been beaten to the ground and just don't care to fight any more? That. Also, the guy who played the minister and other love interest characters needs to butch it up a little. I don't buy for one second that he's in love with these women.

Still, all in all, I would recommend it. About Face typically does some really great shows and this is no exception.

Also, I stayed in my Points yesterday! Yay! For some reason, I had a tapeworm that couldn't be satiated on Wednesday. To the tune of using 10 FlexPoints (FPs). Yeppers. Well, I'm working out with the hottie personal trainer tonight, so I will earn some major Activity Points (APs) tonight. Good thing since I'm meeting the Boys (a group of my close friends, all gay men) for dinner tonight after the gym.

Thursday, July 01, 2004

100 Things, 1-30

1. I'm a natural blonde. I think. I was the last time I saw my natural color.
2. The last time I saw my natural color was in...ooohhhh...1999?
3. I have the best hair stylist in the world, Bryan.
4. He knows my natural color but is under strict orders not to tell anyone.
5. Including me. I know I have gray hair, but have no desire to know exactly how much.
6. Region Broad swears up and down that I have no body hair. That's not true.
7. I'm of mixed ethnic ancestry, but all of it is western European. We're just not hairy people.
8. Ancestry? Let's see....English, Irish, Scottish, French, Dutch, and German. These are things I know of.
9. My dad's family came to these here shores in the mid-1600's.
10. My mom's family in the early 1700's.
11. Dad's family settled in North Carolina then moved to Alabama in the late 1700's.
12. They're mostly still in Alabama.
13. Mom's family? Who knows. Her mom (my G'mama) wouldn't talk about her family much.
14. Her dad was an alcoholic and she just didn't like talking about him.
15. In fact, her dad was the first drunk driving accident in their town in the early 1900's.
16. I was born in Decatur, Alabama but moved around a lot growing up.
17. Moved to West Des Moines, Iowa when I was 2 1/2.
18. Moved to Richboro, Penn. when I was 10 1/2. (Richboro is a tiny town near Philadelphia.)
19. Moved to Englewood, Colorado when I was 11 1/2. (Englewood is a suburb of Denver.)
20. My parents moved to Germantown, Tenn. (suburb of Memphis) the summer after I graduated from high school.
21. I went to undergrad at Oklahoma Baptist University.
22. I have a BA in Theatre Arts.
23. I went to grad school at The University of Alabama.
24. I have an MFA in Acting.
25. I'm back in school now at Northeastern Illinois University.
26. I'm in the Teacher Certification Program (TCP) so I can get my teaching certificate in secondary English with endorsements in Speech & Theatre.
27. Frankly, NEIU is not a very good school. But it's cheap.
28. I have had a couple of good professors, but thus far, I'm not overly impressed.
29. I'm about halfway through the program and will hopefully finish in spring of 2006.
30. I currently work as a researcher for a company that tracks the corporate sponsorship industry.

Why "Kat Wood??"

The first question, I suppose, is really why blog? The answer is simple: peer pressure. Yes, I'm well over the age of majority and peer pressure is still getting me. My friend, Region Broad, has been trying to get me to blog. Frankly, I don't have a lot of spare time (work full-time, go to school part-time, blah, blah, blah), but school is out for the summer, so I thought I'd give it a shot!

Second question: why "Kat Wood?" It's not my name. My name is Kathy, hence the "Kat" part, but really, it's an homage to my cat, Mickey. He is truly the sweetest and cutest cat in the enitre world. When I figure out if I can post pictures, I will. That being said, he does have that is somewhat disturbing. Cats have this bonding thing that they do where they knead you with their paws and typically get this really intense stare. For those of you who have cats, you understand what I mean. Mickey likes to crawl up on my lap and knead my arms and legs and stomach. When he really goes to town, he'll kick back so hard with his hind legs that he can knock my arm away. This has been dubbed "Gettin' His Groove On" by Region Broad. Her cats do this, too.

Where my Mickey strays from the usual bonding is that when he gets going good, he'll freeze then make this little high-pitched noise somewhere between a chirp and a growl. The moment that happens, I have to push him off me. Why? Because at that point, he has achieved wood. Yep. Little, moist, pinky-red kitty wood. The first time it happened, I didn't know it had happened until I felt it on my arm. ON. MY. ARM. There's not enough "eww" in the world.

So, in homage to my cat who pops woodies while gettin' his groove on, my blog is "Kat Wood."

While I suspect that Region Broad will be the only one to actually read this, if there are others who do, I hope I'll have some things to say that you'll find interesting, funny, or at least distracting during a work day.