my hips don't lie
A few days after January first, i and millions of other women around the country embarked on a new diet plan. As someone who has tried just about every diet plan that exists other than Atkins which is totally gross how can a diet plan include unlimited steak? i've become a bit of a diet snob. I've also gone the way of snooty personal trainers who can only do their OWN workout that THEY invent. For my wedding, i lost weight on a mix-mash plan i invented that involved counting calories up to 1600 each day for the first month, and then eating nothing but protein powder mixed with water for the second month. That and a colonic, and i walked down the aisle at a hundred and fifteen pounds. Fast forward to a year-and-a-half later, and despite many other diet techniques practiced half-heartedly since 2005, i managed to eat my way up twenty pounds from my wedding-dress size. Tired of logging calorie counts in spiral-bound notebooks, i decided to swallow my pride and join the unwashed masses. I joined Weight Watchers.
Ugh!!! How disgustingly quotidienne that sounds! I have forever made fun of Weight Watchers for being he social club of fat old women who can't control their cravings for an entire chocolate cake, while i can survive aetherially on water and vinegar. But WW offered an alternative to writing down calorie counts, which i have done every day for a like billion years, so swallowed my zero-calorie pride and gave in. The WW system uses a series of points, you see, that convert calories and fat and fiber to a number like 1, 2, or 12 (for that burrito and fries i ate at the fast-food place yesterday). The online portal is embarrassingly fun and easy, and the first week i lost 2.5 pounds. This morning marks the end of the second week, and another 2.5 pounds lost pushes me to the illustrious five-pound mark, of which there are only three more to go before i can recognize myself in the wedding pictures. All of this to say "yah me!" and also sort of yah for Weight Watchers, even though diet of the stars it is not.
Nudity after the jump, y'all!!!!!!!
This weekend we got an exciting gift. You see, when we signed up with our wedding photographer, we were contractually entitled to every single digital image taken on our special day. The catch was that only a year after the wedding could we actually lay our hands on those precious images. That way, if we wanted to preempt the photographer by printing a million expensive blow-ups ourselves, weíd just have to wait long enough so that we couldnít give two shits about the wedding photos anymore. Enlargements? Who cares about enlargements?! That was, like, a billion years ago!
The six CDs of images, however, brought back the memory of a particularly amusing story, and it wasnít that of shoving our faces in the cake. The morning of the wedding, you see, the photographer was present in my bedroom with myself and my bridesmaids and my mother and the entire starting line-up of the New England Patriots at the moment that I changed into my wedding dress. There was a bit of nudity involved. But that was okay with me. I was about to lose my virginity, after all, and I didnít mind sharing the love with those present.*
Anyway, the week after the wedding I got an email from the photographer that most of the wedding pics were available on a password-protected website for my perusal. I was thrilled! I immediately emailed the URL and the password to everyone: my parents, Danís parents, my grandparent, the New England PatriotsÖ You know, everyone that mattered! A few minutes later Dan called me at work. ìAre you sure youíre okay with everyone seeing those pictures of your breasts?î WHAT??? EXCUSE ME????? I rushed to the site, and to my chagrin Dan was correct (not the last time in our marriage). The picture of my bridesmaids holding out my dress, me stepping into it, breasts hanging down like two weighty versions of Foucaultís pendulums, waving freely while blissfully secured to the top of the universe.
Needless to say, I was a bit perturbed. I phoned the photographer IMMEDIATELY and ordered him to remove image number sixty, innocently titled image number sixty, from his web album. ìPeople always get angry when I DONíT include all the photos,î he protested. Whatever buddy. I donít know what kind of Mormon weddings you shoot over there at the Tabernacle, but in my family we donít like to share like that.
Anyway, this weekend I got a chance to see the infamous photo close-up and in a heart-rate-secure environment. After reading way too much of thesuperficial.com, I simply could not resist the following treatment. I created the star-shaped pasties, and when Dan got home from doing ACTUAL WORK he did the pixelization. I have included the photo here so that all can note my rock-hard six-pack which I will never again see unless I stop eating altogether, and also my devil-may-care attitude regarding a million hands stretched towards my naked body. Nothing I havenít done before in this bedroom, Iím thinking.** Enjoy.
*j/k you guys! I donít want people thinking that I actually saved myself for marriage!!!
**j/k again!!! I may be a pre-marital sinner but Iím no swinger, folks!!!
