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Many pounds years ago, I did yoga. It was at the Y and probably more like Yoga Lite, but it was a nice workout and I only farted once.  I put Building Up the Yoga Habit on the Baby Bucket List.

(I’m down to three things left on the Baby Bucket List – the other two were Reach a Good Weight and Go to Europe – and I don’t want to be the only fat-ass in Europe, so Yoga was it.)

The first thing I needed was a partner – so the next time Queen B. came over, I told her she had a fat ass and I had the cure – yoga. It would be quick and effortless, she’s a sucker for quick and effortless.

HB: Ok, the Y has yoga and we’re going. Do you have sweatpants?

QB: I don’t wear sweatpants, it makes my ass look fat. 

HB: Your ass is already fat, but yoga will help. Let’s shop. 

So we immediately sat down on the couch, pulled out the laptop and did some online shopping. Hello Old Navy yoga pants (we’re on a budget). Three days and $100 later (budget my ass), we have a lovely package from Old Navy bearing eight items of yogawear. We were so excited that we started stripping down in the kitchen to try everything on.

QB: *holding up a tank top* This is tiny, did you order children’s wear?

HB: Its yogawear, its supposed to be tight – and its Spandex so it will stretch – and Old Navy runs big, its fine.

QB:  *halfway into the tank top* Was this made in China by very little Chinese people? Because this would only fit a tiny Chinese woman. 

HB: Yeah Mom, thats why we wear 2X, it means the size of two Chinese ladies whose names start with X. Xing and Xiong.

QB: They need to make this stuff bigger. Obviously if you’re doing yoga its because you’re fat. Skinny people don’t need yoga, and if they show up at yoga in clothes that fit, they’re just showing off. Its like a self-esteem class for them. 

HB: Quit acting like you’ve ever been to a yoga class. You don’t even know how to spell yoga.

Since we were in the kitchen, there were no mirrors – so we pour ourselves  into our first ensembles, electric coral racerback tank top and yoga capris, then turn around to model to each other. And great, one of the pants can’t be returned now because SOMEONE laughed too hard and wet her pants.

QB: Your thighs look like a couple of homemade bratwurst in those pants. 

HB: What is that coming out of the back of your racerback tank top – OMG Mom, you have C cups, facing backwards. 

There's been a security breach at Las Camisas!

HB: Mom! You’re not supposed to wear your bra, it has a bra in it!

QB: Its so small it wouldn’t support one boob of mine, get this thing off me, I can’t breathe! Pull on it, quick – but not too hard, the seams are Chinese, they’re not made for this kind of tension!

Ok, next ensemble – electric green v-neck workout shirt and black yoga pants (because black is slimming).

QB: Oh Honey, did you know that those pants had Old Navy stamped on the ass? It looks like a billboard!

Free Billboard Advertising

HB: Oh shut up, your upper arm fat is eating your cap sleeves. 

Queen B. started digging through the bag, “Isn’t there anything larger than 2T in this bag? We need some woman clothes, do they have yoga burqas?”

We put on the least offensive of the purchases, and decide to try out some yoga moves.

Yoga Pose: Downward Facing Dog (or Dropped Donut Under Couch)

QB: We have to do this here, because if this Chinese spandex is going to let loose, it should be in the privacy of home. 

HB: Agreed. No one should witness this. 

Yoga Pose: Warrior Pose (or Will Fight For Food)

QB: We are going to rock this yogi class thing!

HB: Mom, its yoga, not yogi! Next time take your socks off. 

Next Up: Yoga Class! Stay tuned…


posted on March 31, 2012 in baby bucket list, fitness, me, queen b.
by Honey B.
with 2 Comments

Queen B. taught me to share, so I went in today to give blood for Team B Hive. The truth is, I’ll do anything for a cookie. First time blood donor, whole blood, I am the savior of the world – or anyone with O negative bleeding out in the Godforsaken Arctic Tundra. Work up went great – I have a Hemoglobin of 14 so I am definitely not anemic – vital signs are good – and Lord knows I’m fat enough to donate. And they have cookies as a reward? I’m in.

They poke me, I spurt out some blood, and its finally time to have some cookies. But I stand up and whammo, my ears are ringing and I’ve been struck blind. The elderly lady in the chair next to me and the 90lb Chinese lab tech have to drag my fat ass back to the chair and put my head between my knees. They plop a wet napkin over my neck and fan me, while I lay there sweating and groaning.

So after a few minutes I start feeling better, and I get up to head towards the cookies again – and no, I collapse back onto the recliner. My stupid lycra fat sucker inner has risen OVER my gut and is cutting into my diaphragm, I can’t breathe, my arms are numb…those better be some frickin awesome cookies.

I finally fake that I am feeling fine, shove two cookies in my mouth and three in my pocket, and lumber back to my work with no eyesight and my ears ringing in my head. I make it to the break room on the unit and look in the mirror to discover that the water from the wet napkin has mixed with my hairspray, and I now look like I should be in a punk rock band. Not to mention, apparently my mascara is NOT waterproof and has run down my cheeks. I go into the bathroom and because I’m still half blind, I’m unable to figure out how to lock the door. I don’t care, I put one foot in front of the door and start stripping. Think Kramer in Seinfeld, I am whipping off my clothes and tearing off the Lycra. And I’m still so dizzy that once I get my clothes off, I end up laying on the bathroom floor in my bra, just praying that none of my coworkers come in and call a code on me.

I am still dizzy, but go Team B. Hive!!

posted on March 23, 2012 in food, me, Uncategorized

In the theme of our (newly adopted) organic living, we would like to share with you the making of real vanilla extract. Real vanilla extract is expensive, so we have been known to purchase to the cheaper version which is imitation vanilla extract, still $4 a bottle. However, the first ingredient is water, and the second is propylene glycol – what the hell is that? The eighteenth ingredient on the list, finally (after alcohol, which was the only ingredient we recognized) was ethyl vanillin.

So we decided to make our own vanilla. If Ethyl can make vanillin, so can we! And we’ll save tons of money!!

#1 – Buy vodka. As it turns out, newly-voted-member of the mission committee at church Queen B. hunkers down next to the floorboards of the truck, while Honey purchases two fifths of their best vodka. Current savings: -$34

#2 – Buy vanilla beans. Go to Good Food Store and purchase $28 of organic vanilla beans from Madagascar, along with various all-natural supplements to assist with weight-loss, and glass bottles (no doubt organic, because they’re in the Good Food Store) to put the vanilla in. Followed by lunch special of tofu egg salad made with vegan-aise, organic hokey-pokey, dried apricots from the bulk section, and a bag of raw milk cheese curds that were eaten while shopping. Current savings: -$136

#3 – drive to Queen B’s house because she has the tools – funnels, kitchen shears, and homemade brownies – in Honey’s 13 miles-to-the-gallon truck. Stop for gas on the way. Current savings: -$170

#4 – Sample the vodka for freshness. This involves closing all the blinds so that any other members of the church mission committee don’t witness it.

The church mission committee

#5 – Bottle the vodka with 4 vanilla beans in each jar until we run out of beans. What do we do with the extra vodka?

#6 – Sample a little more vodka, to celebrate our frugality and good sense to make our own vanilla. Toast the impending ruin of the propylene glycol farmers. We could probably sell our vanilla on Etsy. Toast our future success as entrepreneurs.

#7 – After some toasts, Queen B. admits that she was known for her vodka fruit shooters in college, and would like to pass down the traditional recipe for future generations.

#8 – Out comes the blender, and the perfecting of the recipe ensues. Oh Honey we really shouldn’t let this vodka go to waste, besides, we need to drink all the evidence before your father comes home. 

#9 – First try at fruit shooters. This is good stuff, but we need more pineapple juice.

#10 – Second try at fruit shooters. This is seriously yum, next batch needs more orange juice

#11 – Third try at fruit shooters. OMG this stuff is frickin’ amazing, add more vodka!

#12 – After six tries, we have the recipe just the way Queen B. thinks she remembers it.

#13 – Dad (Left Brain) calls on his way home from work, Queen B. gets the giggles and hands the phone to Honey who tells him to pick up Chinese because we’re too drunk to get anywhere near the stove to cook. Current savings: -$212

Bonus Feature: Queen B’s Perfected Fruit Shooter beverage, circa 1977.
Quantities are a little fuzzy, but we’re sure this is very close:

  • Half a can of frozen orange juice consentrate (although orange-mango or Orange-pineapple can be substituted)
  • 1 fifth of vodka
  • Coconut extract
  • 1 can of pineapple chunks in juice
  • Ice cubes
  • Lots of little plastic swords
  • Maraschino cherries (optional)

Pour your preferred quantities of OJ, vodka, and pineapple chunks in juice into the blender. Add a couple drops of coconut extract and ice, and blend until frothy. Stab pineapple chunks and cherries with plastic swords and add to the drink – if they land on the floor just throw them in anyway, the vodka will kill all the germs. Drink with a straw for additional effect (sucking all the vodka off the bottom).

Note – Change of business plan from Queen B. and Honey’s Etsy store – scratch selling vanilla extract, we’re going to sell frozen fruit shooter kits. This stuff is awesome!

PS – We were going to take a picture of what we did, Pinterest-style, but Queen B. wouldn’t get off the floor – she had her face plastered to the sliding glass door that had snow on the other side, trying to get rid of the gin blossoms before we took a picture, where she fell asleep.

posted on January 22, 2012 in frugality, me, organic, queen b.

Dear Girl Scouts-

First of all, I want you to know that I support the Girl Scouts 100%, absolutely. I was never a Girl Scout myself but I’m all about Girl Power, and building good character, and cookies.

About the cookies. We need to talk. See, I know that my house is on the Cookie List. With the red triangle next to the address, which according to the legend at the bottom of the page means ‘Pudgy Lady Who Loves Cookies, Easy Sell!’. But here is the deal, I’m running out of money. I’ve spent $60 on Girl Scout cookies in the last week and a half, and the doorbell keeps ringing!

And Marmot is no help at all, because you know he falls for it every time. I had him answer the door last time I saw Girl Scouts running around the neighborhood, and he came into the sunroom asking me for a $21 check for the little girl at the door. I know he’s on your list as ‘Total Softie Married to the Pudgy Lady Who Loves Cookies’.

I’m weak Girls! I’m dieting, and my resolve fails at the mere mention of Trefoils, the nutty flavor of shortbread melting in my mouth, the crunch of Thin Mints on ice cream…

So please Girls, for the love of fat pants- take me off your list.


The Pudgy Lady on 6th Street

posted on February 15, 2011 in dieting, food, marmot, me

Did anyone elses Mom say that, or just mine?

TTC has been ok, I got through the two week wait fine, although I think getting my period is all the more depressing when I’ve done six days in a row of negative pregnancy tests. But that’s really fine, its just the rest of my life that’s going crazy! Reorganization with work, graduating from school in less than two months, and some work travel coming up…pretty much the TTC is putting me over the edge!

Because of my straight up bitchiness current stress level Marmot and I talked about it at length this weekend, and decided we’re going to take a break from TTC for a month or two. Time to let me chill out and get through the reorganization at work and graduate from school. The way things are right now are rough and I know there is always stress, and it will never be a perfect time, I really am at the point where I need to back off of something in life, and TTC is the easiest to go.

I’m trying to be positive. Be excited and work on managing the rest of my stress.

Looking back at the Facebook posts made me realize that the one thing I dislike about my life is entirely within my control, and I can’t say that I’ve done anything about it other than ignore it. What is wrong with me?! So I’m hoping to take the time off to lose weight. Crazy when I just said I wanted to de-stress, but this has been on my mind so much while TTC.

Its really hard to look at the Baby Bucket List and see the Get to a Good Weight item not crossed off. It was one of the most important items on there, the one I wanted the most of all of them. Which has made TTC hard because I look in the mirror and cringe. I know that I’ll never look in the mirrow and be perfectly happy, but maybe if I get a few pounds off I won’t look in the mirror and get teary!

Last night on What Not to Wear, the victim was a woman who had ‘taken ownership of her life’ and quit drinking, lost weight, and started spending more time with her kids. I was totally impressed, and loved how she put it- taking ownership of her life. I looked at Marmot and said I need to take ownership of my weight.

He nodded his head and said ‘That’s good sweetie.’ (He’s invested. lol)

Take ownership of my weight. Destress. And start the TTC thing again in a month or two.

So yeah, that’s the plan. But who is Stan?

posted on January 26, 2011 in baby bucket list, me, ttc, weight loss

Because it was late at night and I was procrastinating about going to bed, I kept hitting Older Posts on Facebook back to when I first joined, and took a three year walk down memory lane.

And it made me sad.

It reminded me of friendships that I didn’t maintain accidentally, and friendships that I didn’t maintain purposely. It reminded me that there are so many things I’ve failed at. What happened to that running habit I was updating Facebook about? It reminded me of chances lost. Pounds NOT lost. And things I enjoyed that I’ve not seen or done since that status update.

Looking back showed me where I’ve been, and where I am now.

But I’m not sure where I’m going.

posted on January 23, 2011 in friends, life, me, reminisce
by Honey B.
with 5 Comments

I’ll admit it, I’m a people watcher. Marmot is too, which I think is why we click as a couple. One of our favorite things to do is sit in a public place and watch people. We grade their outfits, comment on their hair, try to guess their weights/pant sizes, refining our gay-dar’s, and just generally gawk.

And of course, there are always people that are just beautiful. Perfect weight, perfect clothes, perfect accessories. {I say accessories because I can’t find the life of me get a handle on how you should wear accessories?!?} Everything looks perfect- they have a lot of shopping bags, well-behaved kids, everything looks as it should be. Especially this time of year (the time of year where I get a Weight Watchers ad in the mail- bastards, I know I’m fat!) I’m always looking at people who are skinnier than I am, and seem to make that effortless.

But something I’ve learned? As much as I envy what it seems like they have, I try to remind myself that it covers up what they don’t have. Nobody has a perfect life.

The woman with the perfect exterior? Maybe doesn’t have a great marriage, which is something I’m so lucky to have. Or she and her Mom don’t get along, when I have a Mom that is my best friend. Even if she has what I don’t have- a knack for accessories, or the ability to fit into a size 4 jeans- she has other things I don’t have, and probably don’t want.

And even though I have to remind myself on a regular basis sometimes, I’m grateful for that.

What are you grateful for?

posted on January 3, 2011 in me

Photo – a present to yourself. Sift through all the photos of you from the past year. Choose one that best captures you; either who you are, or who you strive to be. Find the shot of you that is worth a thousand words. Share the image, who shot it, where, and what it best reveals about you.

Ginger, Honey, Nelly & Apple

This is my favorite picture from 2010. My sisters and I got together to do pictures for Queen B. for Mother’s Day. We ended up in the park across the street from our rental house, Marmot brought his camera and acted as our photographer, and we somehow ended up standing in the fountain doing stupid poses. This picture captures my sisters and I, as we are.

posted on December 25, 2010 in me, pictures, reverb10

(Source: PostSecret)

Please tell me I’m not the only one who does this. I’m going to say it anyway.

I grade you by how well your house is kept.

Especially when someone is expected as a house guest, like for more than an afternoon. The layer of dirt on the baseboards behind the bathroom door- the dust on the statuettes in the living room- the eww around the base of the toilet- and whether or not it appears that your carpet needs to be cleaned. Even if someone’s house is clean on the surface, all you have to do is lift a toilet seat to see how well they keep up. If I go to your house, I’m looking at the fingerprint/dirt smudges that build up over time on the wall of the stairway, where your hands just naturally brush everytime you go up them.

If I don’t like you- or if I’m still evaluating- I will take all of that into consideration for my current opinion of you as a person.

You know what that kind of trait is? Ironically, its disgusting. lol

Anyone else have cleanliness judgment?

posted on November 29, 2010 in bathroom, me, whatever
by Honey B.
with 7 Comments

So now that we’ve officially called off the goalie…anxiety is in full swing!

One of my biggest fears about actually starting to try to get pregnant is not being able to. The blogosphere seems to be Mommies, and Those Who Want to Be…and admittedly, the infertility aspect scares me to death.

I was diagnosed at 16 with endometriosis, and have had two surgeries to take down adhesions. As optimistic as I usually am, I still hear that voice in the back of my head that says, Who says you can even get pregnant? Because you’ve had doctors say that its going to be tough! And while I always worry that I’ll end up wanting to quit school and not finish my graduate work once I have a baby, it scares me even more to think about getting done with school and not being able to have kids.

My apologies to those struggling with infertility, because my intent is not to be hurtful. I just worry! And although I won’t worry about this once I see two lines, I will move onto worrying about a baby. And when I’m handed my newborn, I’ll start a whole new set of worries… *sigh*

How ironic is it that getting pregnant, being pregnant, becoming a Mom, are some of the the BIGGEST worry times of your life…but the happy pills you can take are not recommended for pregnancy?!?! lol

posted on November 26, 2010 in anxiety, baby, me, ttc, two week wait