Tag Archives: beauty

sorry I’ve been quiet this week

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I just haven’t felt like blogging. I’ve been busy with life. Had food poisoning on Monday. Then an allergic reaction to SOMETHING UNKNOWN ( I did NOT swallow a spider in my sleep, STOP SAYING THAT!) on Tuesday and then hair day, then pedicures with Ian, then birthday cupcakes and wine with friends and now…it’s Friday.

So check out the horror that I woke up to in the mirror Tuesday morning:

kiss me again….

Yeah…um, I have luscious lips but….THIS IS OUT OF CONTROL. I did NOT get collagen and El Jefe did not smack me around (even though I never listen and I totally didn’t make him a sandwich) I just woke up with swolled-up lips. And face. I looked horrific. And as you can see, I had a sad all day.

I took 150 mgs of Benadryl throughout the day on Tuesday and finally, after a full day of being comatose, my lips look less like road kill and more like Angelina Jolie…

In fun news, I was told yesterday that my ass looked awesome in the jeans I will now never take off.

I ordered Turbo Fire videos from Beach Body (the same group that does Insanity and P90X). I need to add something to my bootycamp workouts (which are obviously working even though I haven’t lost any weight, see ass comment above for proof). And now to the reason I haven’t lost weight…

I’m eating too few calories…and then I give up and over eat for a few days, then I eat too few calories.

I cannot do that to myself anymore. I have to change my mindset. I have to fuel my body for the amount of exercising I have been doing. I cannot starve my body and not expect it to go into survival mode and refuse to give up its stored up energy. The 80s & 90s diet mentality that was drilled into my head as a kid is wrong. And I have to freaking retrain my brain.

Speaking of...this article... it choked me up. I was that girl. I was the athlete who was happy with her muscles and curves until her coach and her parents made her feel bad about herself. I was PUT on a diet at 13 years old. Who does that to a kid?

There are some things I miss about the 80s, but that is NOT one of them. BTW, I don’t blame my parents, they didn’t know any better. They did what they thought was right by their daughter. But I do blame my coaches and the doctors and my weightloss consultants who wrongly informed the world that a 13 year old curvy and muscular teen was unhealthy and needed to lose weight because of her body shape. Shame on them.

If you don’t click the link read the whole article (which you should because it really is well written and poignant), here is the last 2 paragraphs that really spoke to me.

I am sorry because many of you walked in healthy and walked out with disordered eating, disordered body image, and the feeling that you were a “failure.” None of you ever failed. Ever. I failed you. The weight loss company failed you.Our society is failing you.

Just eat food. Eat real food, be active, and live your life. Forget all the diet and weight loss nonsense. It’s really just that. Nonsense.

 

Eat real food, be active and live your life.

I’m going to add “and choose happiness” to that line and live it. Be good to yourself, bitches! Have a great weekend.

Link

To prove I’m not just a cynical bitch (not that I care if that’s what you think…)

The photos in this article will make you believe in love. I guarantee you these couples aren’t out to prove anything to anyone. Look at them.

Beautiful.

Here are a couple of my favorites (credit Huffington Post):

slide_309016_2709278_freeslide_309016_2709274_free slide_309016_2709295_free slide_309016_2709289_freeThese pictures are beautiful and make me smile.

Real. Genuine. And nothing to prove. *sigh*

I love happy.

It’s been 15 days…

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And I’ve done some form of exercise 12/15 days.

For me, this is quite an accomplishment. Seriously.

I realized this morning, as I was getting dressed, that I feel good. Like, REALLY good. And it’s nice to look in the mirror and not hate your body. Because honestly, there is nothing healthy about hate. I used to be obsessed with fixing my body. OMG. My body is not broken! I’m not broken!

There is nothing healthy about obsession, either.

Anyway, back to my realization.

In the not-so-distant past, I worked out to see exterior results. I NEEDED to hear people tell me I looked good. I needed the compliments and to be noticed for all my hard work. But this time, it’s different. I’m finding a beautiful sense of satisfaction on the inside. Knowing I’m working hard and feeling great is all the reward I need right now. I’m doing this for me. I like the compliments, but I don’t NEED them.

There is so much freedom in knowing I’m doing this for myself.

And that’s why, this journey is going to be different from my journeys in the past. I am the only motivation I need.

But you can still tell me I look good. 😉

f6ad3de4f8145a0e096d7f542d5ade93Happy Friday, Bitches! I have Bunko tonight, and I’m totally stoked because I haven’t seen my Babes in a while. You guys have a great weekend, and I’ll see you on Monday.

and she cried more, more, more!

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Just in case you care, here’s a copy of last night’s workout. (I’m combining various HIIT/and muscle specific exercises for a variety of workouts) Also, I’m not a fitness guru, I’m doing this on my own, at my own risk. If you decide to follow my workouts, it’s all on you. I’m just a moron who can’t afford a personal trainer.  You don’t have to be one, too.

Bootyliciousness workout #6

Bootyliciousness workout #6

By the time I was done with this half-hour…I was crying NO MORE! and I was sweating like a cold beer on a hot table.

I’m staying pretty focused and doing well with my daily exercising…I’m sore, but not in pain. I’m sleeping better and I’m pushing myself to do just “one more” and not quitting when my body wants to.

I’m struggling with keeping my core tight and maintaining appropriate posture when I get tired.

But it’s a process. And I’m showing progress, so no complaints here. (other than, FEED ME!!)

So last night…I had a dream about my ass.

Yep. You read that right. I. Had a dream. About my ASS.

I dreamed that I woke up one morning and was getting dressed and looked in the mirror and my ass looked like this:

It ain't gonna spank itself, fellas.

It ain’t gonna spank itself, fellas.

Now you know why I’m doing all those damn squats. I know my ass is never gonna be this size, but if it could be that shape? I’d never keep my hands off my own ass.

Oh well. I’m always going to have a big butt (So WHAT?) and that’s why, this is my motto

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let’s hear it for more, more, more lunges, squats and big ol’ butts that cannot lie!

Operation Bootylicous Workout #5

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I saw this workout on Pinterest yesterday and decided to modify it to fit my needs.

I actually had planned to do the 80 lunges and go into the 70 squats, but that changed when I got to 30 lunges. I’m just not there yet.  Because of the arthritis in my elbows, I have a very hard time with planks and push ups, so I made an adjustment to suit my body.

I did this set twice, and by the end, I was winded and wobbly. The sign of a very good workout! And it was a nice change of pace from what I’ve been doing. You know, I don’t wanna be bored…

Last night, I was ravenous about an hour after the workout. I had eaten a big green salad prior, and had a high protein shake afterward, but apparently my body needed more. Unfortunately, it was 9:00 and I don’t eat that late, so I fixed myself some green and roasted dandelion root tea and toughed it out. However, when I woke up this morning, I made myself a yummy little egg and cheese open-faced sandwich on the Pepperidge farm thin whole wheat bread because my stomach had tried to eat my spine overnight.

Increase in hunger is to be expected when your metabolism is kicking into gear, but sadly, I’m not a runner who is competing and needs to fuel up on as many calories as I burn. I’m a girl who is trying to lose weight, and has to remind herself that the point of exercising is to burn the calories…not to jump into a vat of cheese dip and while eating all the chips just because you exercised…

Hmph.

In other, non-workout and whiny because I’m hungry news: Pearl is up and running again! Ian’s dad helped us out with purchasing a new battery and she seems to be purring like a kitten. She still needs to have some tweaks done to her, so we’ll take her in next week and have her looked at. I drove her today, to make sure she was safe. I don’t want Ian carting the 4 year old he’s babysitting around in Pearl if she’s going to break down again… Looks like we’re a go, for take off! yippee!

Ian and Pearl

Ian and Pearl

Life is good, bitches. Live a genuine life and be happy. Or else I might have to get stabby all up in this place. Don’t be taking shit for granted, ya hear?

have you met my spirit animal?

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Meet the Pin Up Girl. Pin-up-girl-Wallpaper-Art-Painting

I have always been enamored with the Pin Up Girls of yore. (Yes. I said yore.) They were soft, curvy, beautiful and their clothes were kick ass! Hell, if you don’t find them sexy, I think you probably needs some therapy. And glasses.

Now, I haven’t always identified with the Pin Up Girl, I’ve just always loved them. Then El Jefe and I started dating and he made a comment to me one day, just a few weeks into our fledgling romance that stuck  with me forever.  He told me he would love to have an image of me painted onto his motorcycle in pinup style, because that’s what he saw when he looked at me. Basically, he told me I was his calendar girl. I may have swooned.

I’ve never felt more beautiful in my life. That was the biggest compliment ever.

And from that moment on, the Pin UP Girl became my spirit animal. (don’t worry, the dragonfly is still my real totem, but…I’m embracing the Pin Up and making her my bitch)

beach_chair_pin_up_girl_retro_art_postcard-rfcae5bdc55a449a9b56ba2da5719db8e_vgbaq_8byvr_512Okay, RAPID TOPIC CHANGE!

Tonight is Workout #2 of Melf’s Compound Bootylicious Bootcamp. (I know the title keeps changing. Shut up. I like my brain’s ADHD) It will be just me and Rader (and probably my nephew Ryan) because *drumroll please*

IAN GOT A JOB!

That’s right, my fellow interneters. My 19-year-old-practically-grown-assed-son finally landed himself a gig. I’m very proud of him, because this is the job he’s been wanting and has been trying to get since spring. And he didn’t give up. And he did it by himself. Sure it took him a while, but who cares. He did it. On his own. And that’s what matters.

Anyway, back to Melf’s Compound Bootay’s Bootyliciousness.  I’m going to add in more upper body tonight.  I need to sculpt my awesome so my inner Calendar Girl shows on the outside to everyone. Not just my sexy El Jefe

Hmmm. El Jefe will be home tonight. Wonder if we can convince him to join us in our misery?

I’m sure he’ll be more than willing to cheer us on while taking pictures and laughing…with us. Not at us, of course.

OH and for an awesome fitness blog with tips and workouts and menus (oh, MY), check out Muffin-Topless.com. She’s pretty amazing. And her body is to fucking die for. Damn. You could do laundry on her abs!

And in one last bit of news…I have committed to doing a Yoga class this weekend for the first time in 15+ years. My sweet friend, Brandi Soucy is going to help me out…because I will need extra attention due to the girls. Downward Dog can actually mean suffocation when you’re G for Gifted.

There will be a blog about it next week. And there will probably be pictures. I ask that you keep your judgement of my inflexible fluff to yourself, as I am trying. Laugh all you want…on your inside.

Actually, laugh all you want. I will be. Fuck it. It’s gonna be awesome. And funny. But mostly awesome. 😀

getting all inside the beauty of my trip. and even better, inside the beauty of #equalrights

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FYI, the reference of “inside the beauty” comes from a creeper message on Facebook. We have taken this on as a new turn-of-phrase. And we modify it on occasion. If we get up inside your beauty, you know we mean business.

New message from the Other Inbox: Please to be my friend, pretty lady? You have very much beauty and I want to get inside your beauty.

Check out my pictures on Instagram from our trip to Iowa and Illinois.

The trip was breathtakingly beautiful. Every damn time I looked out the window, it was like looking at a postcard.

El Jefe’s family was amazing. So welcoming and fun.

Image

Image

After Iowa, we spent a lovely day with David and Kyle in Chicago enjoying the hell out of PrideFest.

1010181_10152014715537907_969093930_nYes. That’s Gaymart. The happiest store on earth.

Speaking of PrideFest…YAY SCOTUS! You made the right decision striking down DOMA. All Americans should have equal rights. Marriage is a human right. Period. And frankly, “separate but equal” has never worked…and it is not really equal. So. Let’s all get Gay Married! Okay, I know everything isn’t done yet, but striking down DOMA is a huge step in the right direction.

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friend and foe.

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Mimosas. This mimosa is my friend.

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This mimosa?

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Taken at UALR

Not. So. Much.

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Coleman Creek, UALR

I forget that I have Mimosa Tree allergy. I love them. They’re beautiful and fragrant…and they make my eyes cry all the cries!

Years ago, when we bought our first house in Little Rock, our yard was filled with mimosa trees. And they were lovely. And I couldn’t see for almost 6 weeks. We thought I had developed an allergy to my contacts, so I stopped wearing them. My eyes were so light sensitive I actually had to wear those grandpa sunglasses that cover their glasses, even inside.

sexy.

sexy.

Yes. These. Except mine were a hideous dark green.

My eyes are so sensitive this week, I’m thinking about bringing sexy back with those bad boys.

And it’s my own freaking fault. I was checking out the sneaky snakes in Coleman Creek yesterday, enjoying the ambiance…inhaling the wonderful scent of the…OH SHIT. Mimosa tree that I was standing inches away from. Stupid Melf. You done lost your damn mind.

Oh well. It’ll clear up in a few days and if it doesn’t, I guess I’ll be getting me some prescription eye drops. Conjunctivitis is sexy. It makes my makeup run all down my face, like I was jilted on Prom Night.

Good thing I’m a natural beauty. haha

This weekend is Father’s Day and we’re having a cookout on Sunday.  El Jefe is Papa Bear and he’s fantastic with the boys, but they will be with their dad this Sunday. However, Stacey Jay and her fam will be hanging out with us! Because I cannot get enough of her. EVER. So we’ll be celebrating Big Daddy Mike Day. It’ll be awesome.

And I know there will be much laughter. Because that’s how we do at The Compound.

 

 

 

feeling swell

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First off, thank you for all the wonderful comments about yesterday’s post. Many of us had a nice discussion on Facebook and I also received a couple of private messages that meant the world to me.  We all have stuff that lingers from our past, and we all have different ways to cope. In high school, my coping mechanism was to be happy no matter what in public. I ignored all the ugly remarks about the size of my butt, BUT, they never went away.

“She’s so chunky, you have to eat her with a fork.”

“Chunky, chunky 2 by 4, can’t get through the kitchen door.”

I made myself believe the people who said those things to me were just ‘ribbing’ me. Like they would one of the guys. And so then, I became one of the guys. Because THAT was the safest thing to do. If you’re one of the guys, then you don’t expect to get a boyfriend. You’re not going to, anyway. Boys don’t like curvy girls. So I threw a football better than most dudes, I played all the sports and became better friends with the boys than I did with most of the girls. I also threw myself into every extracurricular activity I could, from Student Senate to Class Officer. I was the most unpopular popular kid in high school.

It’s funny, our perceptions of each other growing up. I felt like nobody knew me, like I was just so-n-so’s sidekick, I was the fat friend with a good personality, the pity date, the third wheel.  So when I went to college, I still had this weird, self-perception.

But now, 30 years later, even though I fight those old feelings, I actually feel pretty fucking swell. I’ve got some amazing friends, a super amazing boyfriend and my kids–I survived high school so I could be the kind of mom I am today. And I wake up happy everyday (even when I don’t want to get out of bed because the sleep won’t leave my face!) It’s nice, this swellness I have on my inside parts.

I think that’s why I get so bent out of shape about bullying these days. And I’m not even talking about mean kids being mean. That sucks and it needs to be stopped. I’m talking about adult bullying kids but calling it ‘parenting.’ If your kid goes through life feeling worthless because you called her a whore for wearing too much makeup to a party or an inappropriate dress or you tell her girls with those size thighs can’t wear those skirts…or girls with no boobs shouldn’t put on boob dresses….then you’re being a bully. You’re not parenting, you’re shaming. My parents are amazing grandparents, but when I had the boys, I made it very clear to them… they were never to feel shame for asking questions or wearing something that looked horrible but they picked it out themselves. They were never to be called names EVER. Because shaming is not good parenting. Luckily, I broke free of that pattern, but a lot of kids grow up to be the same kind of parents… It’s not fair to their kids.

/soap box for the day

Have I shown y’all my summer look? Or what I PLAN to be my summer look?

b565857d7fcc88210771ed351333ced1I’m gonna rock this look all summer long, and sparkle while I’m doing it…

This picture inspired me… :

480900_451243814958361_1530752660_nHow to get a bikini body: PUT A BIKINI ON YOUR BODY. Yeah yeah, that’s actually a 2-piece not a bikini. I’m confident but not THAT confident. LOL

Anyway, y’all do something kind for yourself today. And smile. You know smiling is contagious…right?