Seriously, if I have to see another weight loss article with excess alliteration in the title and a list of daunting tips and suggestions that no busy woman has the time nor organizational skills to tackle, I’m going to vomit: Re-Modeling your Muffin Top, 600 Ways to Whittle Your Waistline, How to Teach Your Tummy Taut.
We all know HOW to get rid of the fat, and you don’t need to be some kind of gut guru or stomach swami to realize the solution is this: Put down the donut. Go to the gym. Be less stressed and get more sleep.
There. I’ve just told you everything weight loss secret you’ll need to get skinny and svelte.
So what are you waiting for?
Have you lost any yet?
How about now?
Sheesh, you’re lazy!
Oh, right, you have a life and you’re busy. What, you work, you have kids, and they have busy lives too?
What a bunch of complainers!
Yes, we can cut back on carbs and get in what exercise we can, but this is no small undertaking and I find it pretty discouraging when articles treat major alterations in our daily lives like they’re simple equations and can be casually manipulated at whim. So, with that in mind, here are some ideas I have about Taming your Tummy. But before we start, let’s put down the Bear Claw, shall we?
SPANX SQUARED (sure that’s the name of the brand Sponge Bob’s wife would wear, but I simply mean this): Wear Spanx – ahem – double Spanx. You may have an excruciating belly ache, but your tummy will be flat and so will your appetite, as the violent stomach cramping will make you less likely to eat.
HANG WITH HEAVIES: Find people who are at least 50 pounds heavier than you and make them your new besties. Just don’t show them this article. Oh, and bake them tons of cookies, so you don’t have to find new friends again.
START TRENDS: Become obsessed with stripes and dark clothing. Even if your friends think you look like a cross between Where’s Waldo and Richard Lewis, the results will be slimming and if the stripes are tight enough, possibly disorienting. Either way, you’ll look thinner — goal accomplished.
COLOR COORDINATE YOUR INTAKE: Only eat foods that are purple. Look, there aren’t that many purple foods, so short of barbecuing Barney, I think this is fool proof. Oh, and when it does work, see how many friends jump aboard the “PURPLE PLAN,” look out Atkins… and Barney.
HELP THE SICK: Bring them soup, keep them company, play board games with them… and give them a big ol’ hug. Of course, I’m speaking strictly of those with violent stomach viruses. Sure, helping the non stomach virus sick people could make you feel good, but ask yourself an important questions: How much time do you really have to help the sick people that WON’T help you lose weight?
TELL EVERYONE ELSE AND YOURSELF TO CHILL: Seriously, the pressure we put on ourselves is the number one road block to accomplishing our goals. Take a deep breath, close the magazine/browser, give the hubby a surprise schtup, try not to eat off your kids’ plates and take the stairs instead of the elevator. Your psyche, hubby, kids, and elevator operator will thank you.
Related Posts For SmartBeautyGuide.com where I give tackleable tips (with a bit of snark):
So, last night at a friend’s house, I watched her son opened an awesome Nerf bazooka gun that shoots like 600 bullets at the same time. He was having a tough day, he was exhausted and then the gun had the nerve to break.
“Why me,” he screamed as he threw himself on his bed, arms splayed.
“Why me! Why me! I knew this bazooka wouldn’t work, I just knew it! Why do horrible things like this always happen to me? My friends’ Nerf guns work.”
He had a classic case… oh, I’ve seen it before, it’s pretty ugly. The question is, how does one catch this horrible illness and can we cure or prevent it?
Here’s my take: As we — many of us helicopter/ over-protective / over-compensating / over-complimenting parents raise this next generation, we’re teaching them that they are truly the center of the universe. I am not judging, I am one of those parents – many of us are (to varying degrees). Many of us, myself included, have an internal struggle where we pit our need to ensure our children’s happiness against the knowledge that attempting to provide these things for them 24/7 will probably inhibit their ability to do anything for themselves… EVER!
OK, I’m not a therapist, but I see one regularly, which means I’m totally qualified to say these things. Wait, it doesn’t? So, I should stop calling my friend who once played a Doctor in a Prilosec commercial for advice on my IBS? Whatever…
This is still one of my favorite V-Day moments (awkwardness, inappropriateness, and fear for my safety aside).
On February 14th a few years back, Ry, my daughter, then 5 years old, trotted into my room to wish me a happy Valentine’s Day, to hand me a stunning hand-made card, and to neck.
Sure, they tell you not to make-out with your kids, but sometimes there’s a fine line between so cute and so scary.
What parent doesn’t secretly love it when their child says they want to marry them (assuming they’re too young for marriage at the time)? I mean, for how many more years are they going to want to hug, snuggle, or hold hands?
“This card is sooo beautiful. Come give Mommy a kiss,” I said in a very innocent non-romantic way.
Ry, maybe wanting to show me the magnitude of the holiday, grabbed my face with both hands and planted the biggest soap opera smooch on me. I started to giggle mid-peck…
I’ve had some awkward V-Day Moments, from my 5yo trying to soap opera kiss me to my hubby trying to stuff himself and champagne into an undersized NYC bathtub in our undersized NYC apartment to my dauther telling me, I make her want to “puke of love”. That said, I’ve decided this year will not be awkward. No, we will all be realistic in our planning and our phrasing.
As I picked up a pack of those V-Day conversation hearts (the candies that are supposed to represent the sweet nothings you would whisper in your lover’s ear before bed, like: I LOVE U, B MINE, KISS ME…), I thought, this is anything but realistic phrasing. Those sayings are more saccharine sweet than the candy, so I made a list that resembles real pillow talk. These are the phrases that should be etched on those cute little hearts, after a few years of marriage.
Be warned: this list is not for newlyweds, so you can refrain from reading and telling me how blissful your marriage is. Give it a few years. Ahem- I mean, I’m happy for you.
Growing up a Gen X ‘er, I can distinctly recall being allowed to do all kinds of things we would find crazy today. Like roaming the streets of our neighborhood for hours with no way of being contacted. No cell phones, or tracking devices on our backpacks or implanted in our brains (do they have that yet?). Nowadays, they’d call that grounds for a CPS visit, back then, we called that Monday. Not only were our parents OK with these freedoms, they encouraged them. Did they not love us? Did they not care? Were they that hard up for a few minutes of peace that they would risk our lives?
Most the adults I know now would be vehemently against such insane acts, myself included. In fact, being unreachable by cell phone could push us straight into panic mode. Here are a few things we did as kids, which make me wonder how we survived. Today they’d get someone arrested or at least get your house taken off the play-date circuit…
After my “40 Signs You’re a Mom” list got such an incredible response, it dawned on me that those folks who have kids that are older, don’t have kids yet or don’t want them, have some pretty distinctive signifier of their own. Certain qualities/abilities that give us parents of young ones a chuckle at the mere thought of, like, not finding it triumphant to have an uninterrupted visit to the bathroom.
Here are some of the signs:
1. People still call you by your actual name.
2. You don’t have to look at anyone else’s poop.
3. You don’t sneak vegetables into your recipes like meatloaf, smoothies, brownies — you just eat them.
4. You don’t go to bed wondering how many times you’ll be woken up before morning.
Hairdresser having just cut and blown it out. It’s not bad, right?
The other day I got a haircut. Ry (my 10yo daughter) got in the car and simply said, “hair cut.” In a robotic, I see you got one, so I’m making an effort, but this conversation shall go no further, because I’m pretty much a teenager already, kinda way.
Me: Human child. (I said robotically, pointing out the obvious, in kind.) She picked up her iTouch and disengaged.
Me: What, you don’t like it?
Ry: Nope, I hate it. *looks back at iTouch*
Me: I always tell you not to say mean stuff.
Ry: Yeah, you also tell me if I don’t have something nice to say, not to say anything at all, which is what I was trying to do. (There was no, “duh” at the end, but it was implied.)
Me: For your information, my hair hates you too. (I said in an effort to have a convo one of the other personalities in my little “Sybil,” which they all become somewhere around 3 years old.) Continue reading →
Yes, I have problems sitting on the “sick side” of the pediatrician’s office. Yes, I assume the person before me at every restaurant, arcade, amusement park, and grocery store shopping cart has picked their nose and wiped it somewhere within reach. Yes, I’ve experienced the catch 22 where I want all tables wiped down before I’m seated, but have also convinced myself that the germs spread from those over used rags are far worse than the left over food residue that currently contaminates the space.
I’m neurotic. I get it, but am I the only one?
I think not. After talking to a few friends about poultry, my worst phobia, I realize that I’m a member of a very large crowd. A very large, very disturbed crowd.
To ring in the New Year I asked my children what their New Years Resolutions would be and Ry’s was three things: 1. Get more of those comfy sweats made of that stuffed animal like material. 2. Play with dolls more. 3. Be more charitable.
I’m not quite sure if she totally understands the whole New Years Resolutions thing, as the first two seemed a bit more self-serving, but the third more than made up for any lack of understanding. In fact, hearing her utter the third, gave me chills. You see, over the holidays, Continue reading →
The title sounds like something you would see on Pinterest — in “4 easy steps to beat bullies,” but it’s not. It’s not easy for our kids to combat bullying or even understand it. As a child of the 80’s, “bully” wasn’t the buzz word it is today. We all got bullied to some degree. We were teased and made fun of over the smallest things, from clothes, to acne, to not developing fast enough or too fast, to how you pronounced a single word. Teachers generally ignored it or wrote it off as part of the growing up process and left the dirty work to after school specials and “One to Grow On.”
Let’s face it, sometimes in-laws can drive us crazy. Mine love to whisper in front of me in a rather loud rendition of a whisper… (among other things).
But on Thanksgiving I get them back, or should I say, “I give it back” and isn’t that the point of Thanksgiving … the giving? Yes, it’s a Thanksgiving tradition.
You see, I’m a poultry-phobe. I fear fowl, and when cooking it, I’m usually convinced that poultry is simply a bunch of salmonella clumped together in the shape of wings, breasts, turkeys etc. You know, like the way meat was shaped for the McRib? In fact, whenever I see a picture on Facebook where someone has stupidly stuck an entire raw turkey on their head (and I’ve seen a few), I assume they are going to die. Continue reading →
Below, is a story that started on my Facebook Fan Page this week. Frankly, I’m not sure how it went where it did or how we all sunk to this level, but we did … and it was fun.
Thursday is my free morning – by that I mean my husband works from home — and because he loves me — he makes the kids’ lunches and breakfast, so that I can get an extra hour of sleep. However, it never quite works out that way… He often wakes me to ask what the kids eat (though he’s been doing this every thursday for years), or what fruit to serve with breakfast or something like this …
Mark: We don’t have any bread, what should I make the kids for lunch?
Me, groggy and annoyed to be asked this question: Yes, we do have bread, so make a sandwich.
Mark: No we don’t, I looked.
Me: Well, we did last night and I bet it’s not gone. Are you gonna make me get up to show you.