Where have I been? In the depths of exercising hell.
Exercising wasn't the hellish part. It was the exercising, eating healthy -soooo healthy - for two weeks, and not losing weight.
You're like, what? You did all that and didn't lose weight? Most people, no all people, would lose weight if they did that.
Well in case you haven't figured out yet, I am not most people, and apparently my body hates me. Not only did I not lose weight, I gained it. Let me tell you friends, there is nothing more depressing than eating nothing but carrots, and fruit and nuts and fish, cutting out carbs and soda and chocolate and running and running and pushing yourself to run a little more, with sweat dripping in your eyes, mixing with your mascara and making them burn, your ankles and knees screaming in pain because you have the joints of an eighty year old, coming home completely drenched in sweat, stepping on the scale and weighing MORE THAN YOU EVER HAVE IN YOUR ENTIRE LIFE!!
Yes, I managed to reach my all time heaviest weight whilst exercising and eating healthy.
Why is this happening to me? I said with much wailing and looking longingly at the Oreos.
But I pressed on - running and sweating and carrot eating. And bring on the weight.
I came to the only logical conclusion there was. I am pregnant.
I am so thankful for that bridesmaid dress. This baby is growing fast and it is the only thing that fits me.
We went to the doctor the other day. Mark found out the sex, but I don't want to know because I like surprises.
That makes it a little difficult to decorate the nursery, but...
Is anyone buying this?
If you are, I am sorry. I am not pregnant.
I would not announce my pregnancy on my blog...Or maybe I would. It all depends on what the voices in my head tell me to do on any given day.
N-E way. I did attribute the weight gain to pregnancy. But actually, the thinking I'm pregnant part came before the exercising. It was actually the catalyst for the-starting-of-the-exercising-for-the-first-time-in-like-four-years.
It was a Sunday night. I walked into my bathroom, looked at my stomach and freaked out. I was preggers. Apparently six months or four months, or whenever you start showing, pregnant. I'm really not being sarcastic here. I really, seriously, honestly thought I was pregnant.
And my emotions were mixed. On the one hand, I was like at least I'm not just getting fat. Now I can eat as much of everything that I want. On the other hand, I was like uh yeah, I really don't want a baby. And I don't want to get bigger. If I'm just getting fatter I can exercise and make the fat go away (oh how naive I was). On the third hand, I was like my baby is going to be an alcoholic because I've definitely imbibed in the last four months.
I declared to my husband that I was pregnant, or possibly just fat, and that I was going to start running to make it go away.
And run I did. And get fatter I did. Or possibly more pregnant. As the weight kept going up, I became more and more convinced I was preggers and begged the husband to go buy me a pregnancy test.
Husband: "Aren't you about to get your P.E.R.I.O.D.?"
Me: "NO!! How dare you say that! Why are you always judging me?!! What! We're out of ice cream! If I don't have ice cream I'm going to die. Life is so unfair. I'm so sad. I love you honey. Want to snuggle on the couch?"
Husband: raised eyebrow
Me: "Okay, maybe."
Husband: "You think maybe that has something to do with the TEMPORARY weight gain?"
Me: "No. Buy me a pregnancy test."
Husband: "No. Exercise the rest of the week and if, on Friday, you do not get your P.E.R.I.O.D., you can take a pregnancy test."
So I continued to run my fat a.s.s. off at a snail's pace. Seriously, the walkers were walking faster than I was "running." And yes, it was embarrassing. But I had my defense ready for when someone commented on my slow pace.
I told the husband, "If someone says anything to me about how not fast I am running, I am going to say 'you try running when you're three months pregnant.' They'll feel like a total jerk for saying anything to me."
The husband replied, "why would anyone care how fast you run?"
"Becuzzzz," I said exasperated, "running is all about comparing yourself to other people, and finding those who look more pathetic than you and feeling better about yourself."
The husband: "No it's not."
Me: "Clearly you are not an exerciser. Will you please buy me a pregnancy test? If I am pregnant, I am killing our baby with all this running and raising of my body temperature to one hundred and fourteen thousand degrees."
On Friday I got my period.
So continue to run I did to see if maybe, now, I would start the losing of the weight.
The only reason I'm sharing all this with you is to explain why I haven't been writing. Because running, and being pregnant, and then not, and running some more, made me soooooo tired. For two weeks I pretty much worked, ran, made a bland dinner, ate, showered, collapsed in bed. Running also made me weepy and emotional and all cry-ey and "why do I even write? I am a crappy writer. No one cares what I have to say. Why did I even start a stupid blog?" I was not prepared for this. Running was supposed to make you happy, what with the releasing of endorphins and all. Endorphins make you happy. Happy people don't kill their husbands. (Quick! Name that movie!*)
Oh, I know what you're thinking. It wasn't the running that was making me all sad and weepy, it was my P.E.R.I.O.D.
And to that I say, NO IT WASN'T!!!
I've stopped running now. I'm back to writing. And I feel much happier.
Now, on to what I really wanted to talk about...What the blogger handbook says about having seven followers! Allow me to read to you.
Once a blogger has reached seven followers he/she is now allowed to talk about puppets.
Puppets! PUPPETS! My friends, you are in for a treat. And possibly some therapy after you are finished reading this.
Do you like coming up with quippy little stories for snails, and fish, and cross eyed children, and a creepy man-boy? Would you like to get paid for coming up with them?
Well then, you are in luck. The puppet industry has a job for you.
It all started with an email from my friend Ashley. Our friend Juli told Ashley she wanted to buy finger puppets for her baby, Camilla. Being the good friend that Ashley is, she did some research.
And what she found, my friends, is, well, odd, and slightly disturbing.
She sent photos of these puppets to me in a series of emails. And you have no idea how happy I am that I am now, according to the blogger handbook, allowed to share them with you. Gems like this should not be kept under a rock. Or wherever it is that gems hang out until they are discovered.
I will share the subject of each of her emails, the story accompanying each puppet created by the puppet industry weirdos, and, of course, my thoughts on each. Pay particular attention to the stories the puppet company created. The puppets themselves are odd and some even disturbing, but the captions really seal the deal on the weirdness factor.
Ashley's subject line: BLAAAAAA
Story from puppet makers: N/A
My thoughts: Aww, cute horse. I mean cow. I mean bull? I've looked at this picture, like, ten times and just now realize it is not a horse. Unless horses have horns. Which I'm pretty sure they don't. However, that does not necessarily mean they did not intend for it to be a horse. You will later see that, according to the puppet industry, any animal can have horns.
And oh my gosh, Beth, I totally now get how you were confused by horses, cows, and bulls. They are much more similar than people realize. You are wise beyond your years, young grasshopper.
Ashley's subject line: Is it bad that I find this hilarious…sheesh, blind WITH glasses & hearing aids, Billy really got the short end of the…cane?
Story from puppet makers: Billy is disabled and using a cane. The harsh comments from a schoolmate makes it even worse. Use this puppet to help teach children how to treat others with disabilities.
Set contains: 1 full body puppet, hearing aids, glasses and cane
My thoughts: The harsh comments from his schoolmates make his disability worse? Uh take out the hearing aid Billy. This isn't rocket science. And also, if he needs a cane, doesn't that mean he's blind? So are the glasses really necessary? It seems to me Billy's biggest disability is that his mother is a moron. - Just reread the subject of this one and I see Ashley also noticed what an idiot his mother is. This is why we are friends.
Ashley's subject line: Hey Brian Fellow...I'm gonna punch your mom!
Story from puppet makers: Puppet amazingly realistic.
My thoughts: Really? Amazingly realistic? Really?
P.S. I love Brian Fellow!!
Ashley's subjet line: wtf...seriously, read the caption...wtf
Story from puppet makers: Trevor has a thin sprig of hair that looks like a bow tie, but he doesn't care. He dresses in Christmas colors and plays in a tree. He says, "I like being a kid and I like being me." Lilly likes singing and lemons and yellow. She's jumps, laughs and dances. She's anything but mellow.
My thoughts: Trevor doesn't care that his hair is a bow tie? Really? Has anyone ever asked Trevor? I'm pretty sure he has an opinion about it. Then again, maybe he likes his hair as a bow tie cuz it distracts from his lazy eye. And speaking of lazy eye, WTF is up with Lilly's eyes? Two lazy eyes? Is that really necessary?
Ashley's subject line: Ahhhhh! So this is where chicken fingers come from!
Oh and Chicken Little? Yeah, no.
Ashley's subject line: Caption is awesome and perhaps a bit...I'm not sure if I should share the rest of her subject, because I'm not exactly sure what she means. I thought it meant one thing, but Mark was like, no, that's not what she means. But if it is what she means, then maybe I shouldn't share it. Cryptic, I know. Ashley, I'll call you.
Story from puppet makers: Billy the Chimp loves to laugh. He's social and funny, but not good at math. He is great for teaching about the environment, conservation and nature. Children love him.
My thoughts: A monkey who's not good at math. You don't say? Well shoot, I was really hoping my monkey puppet could teach me a little trig, perhaps some calculus.
At least children love him. Until he rips their face off, that is.
Chimpanzees are not pets, people!
Ashley's subject line: Is this getting old yet? What a fiend!
Story from puppet makers: Bob the Monkey is a break dancing fiend. He does handstands and spins and loves to be seen. He is great for teaching about the environment, conservation and nature. Children love him.
My thoughts: Break dancing? Handstands? Spins? Loves to be seen? I hate it when my monkey puppet is an attention whore.
Ashley's subject line: hmmmm, this fish reminds me of someone.....Trevor!?! is that you!!??
Story from puppet makers: James is a funny looking fish but he doesn't care. He swims in the sea and says, "I like being a fish and I like being me." He is great for teaching about the environment, conservation and nature. Children love him.
He is 16 inches in length and is very easy to operate by youngsters as well as adults.
My thoughts: He's easy to operate? Did all the other puppets come with an instruction manual?
Serioulsy, he's a puppet. Insert hand, move fingers.
P.S. in case you don't remember who Ashley is referring to, Trevor was the bow tie haired, lazy-eyed, Christmas loving, I like being me, puppet.
Ashley's subject line: Seen any dejected gastropods lately?
Story from puppet makers: He may be slow, but at least he's not slimy! This expressive Snail puppet, as well as being soft and cuddly, also has workable horns and mouth. With these features, he can show surprise, remorse, joy, dejection, and numerous other emotions, and he also retracts into his shell if things get too overwhelming.
My thoughts: Horns!!! Horns! Let me say it again. HORNS! Since when do snails have horns? Also, dejected Snail, you have a fungus growing in your mouth. And remorseful? What did that snail do?!
Ashley's subject line: Get ready to shit your pants...seriously...and I'm OUT!
Story from puppet makers: This young boy Dan doesn't have a lot to say. The only thing he wants to do is eat cookies and play. He plays at the beach and lays in the sand. He needs extra sunscreen. He doesn't tan.
He is 28 inches from top of his head to tip of his toes. He has a sculptured face and finely detailed clothing including shoes. He comes with with a pack of cookies that teaches numbers and letters.His expressive face and large size makes him especially good for ventriloquist use before large audiences.
You can insert your own hands into the puppet for very expressive action.
My thoughts: Ashley warned us. She did. But nothing, NOTHING, could have prepared you for young boy Dan. I cannot comment on the picture. I just can't. If I share what I first thought when I saw him, I will sound like an evil person. So I will go with what Ashley and Juli thought when they saw him: Young boy Dan is a child molester. The first paragraph of his story creeps me out. I can't say why, exactly. I feel like they are implying something disturbing by saying he lays in the sun. He needs sunscreen. He doesn't tan. Why would you come up with that for a puppet? Why?
And if there was any doubt he is a child molester, his pack of cookies to teach children letters and numbers confirms it. More like lure children into his creepy van with his cookies.
And what's up with the last sentence of his story? I can insert my own hands? You mean I don't have to cut off someone else's hands to use young boy Dan? Normally that would relieve me. I am not a fan of amputation. But, in the case of young boy Dan, I'm all for it if it means I don't have to INSERT MY HANDS INTO HIS CREEPY BODY. Which is exactly what he wants. What. A. Perv.
Well, that's it folks. This post has exhausted me. More than running and my P.E.R.I.O.D. and possibly being pregnant.
Puppet industry people, you are weird. But guess what? I happen to like weird. So I guess you're okay by me. Except for the creepy child molester puppet. Stop making those, okay? Seriously. Stop it.
*Legally Blonde. Did you guess right?
Mah Book Progress:
Let's not discuss it.
Puppet photos and stories credit: JumpNPuddles.com