So, I lost seven pounds at Disney World.

SEVEN FUCKING POUNDS.

At first I thought it was water weight because I basically sweat until my clothing was dripping each time I ventured out of the hotel, but it hasn’t come back since I’m home, so YEE HA!

This brings me to a total loss of twenty pounds since mid-March, with another twenty lost back in October/November. So around forty total. Which is awesome. Clothes in the back of the closet are now wearable (no, not THOSE clothes, not yet), everything fits better.

I did have to go and get new bras because my last “good” bra broke while at Disney (by doing that thing where you’re walking and all of a sudden you’re like “what’s poking my chin?” and it’s your fucking underwire so then you have to pull it out, because try as you might, it will NOT go back in and then you walk around Disney World with one boob a bit more saggy than the other). I was shocked to find that not only had I lost four inches around my chest, but my cup size (sob!) dropped from a DD to a motherfucking C. Which sucks, because, well, BOOBS ARE AWESOME.

Here’s my progress so far. Below is a picture from last May on the left, from December in the middle, and from today.

I’m particularly fond of how the exercise has actually made my butt HIGHER. As Dresden said to me today, BODANKADONK.

I’m pretty happy with my progress so far, but there’s a long way to go. I have kept on tracking my food although I took a breather while on vacation. When I got home I didn’t give myself time to pause; just went right back to the gym and started tracking again while stocking the fridge with fruit and veggies.

But again, what’s most noticeable to me is the fact that I feel a million times better. I cannot imagine how much Disney would have sucked if I hadn’t spent some time working on getting in better physical shape before I went; there is SO MUCH walking there. As it was I struggled with an awkward problem (TMI alert, although do I really need to say that? My whole blog is TMI): inner thigh fucking chafing, or chub rub. I didn’t realize that my shorts and skorts had gotten bigger enough that they fit in such a way that my inner thighs touch. After the first day, I could have started a fucking fire down there. Sheesh. All the usual tricks (deodorant, powder, etc) didn’t keep it from continuing to happen, alas. But in the good news column, I now have a nice callus and probably won’t have to worry about it for the summer! So, yeah?

Anyways. Onward!

If you are looking for more Cecily, I wrote about the unexpected ways the Cinderella story has effected me over at The Uppercase Lowdown, and I also tackled the “new” Merida makeover controversy.

Part 1 of in search of smaller is here. Part 2 is here.

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This post, In Search of Smaller, Part 3, originally appeared on Uppercase Woman on May 17, 2013. Tweet This Post!

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When we pulled into the driveway last night, our car covered in dead bugs from the thousand mile drive, we all breathed a sigh of relief. We piled out of the car without unloading so that we could have our reunion with my mom and the dog without being laden with luggage. Hugs were given all around and the dog was soothed.

We are home.

It was lovely being with Charlie and Tori so much. Tori was a delight in the car, patient and charming (yeah technology!) and generally beautifully behaved. We loved our beach visits both ways (we stopped in South Carolina on the way down, and then a beach near Saint Augustine on the way home). We loved the quirky road signs (Georgia: what is UP with the boiled peanuts?) on I95. We hated the traffic in Virginia, and the way the drivers got more and more aggressive as we returned to the northeast.

As for Disney World itself? Well, it was Disney.

Disney is full of scripted magic. It’s hard not to fall in love with it; as cynical as I can be, I still teared up when I saw the castle for the first time (in fact, I teared up with ANYTHING Cinderella related; that shit is in American women DEEP, yo, but that’s another post entirely). Watching Tori’s incredible delight at every single siting of something she recognized from Disney’s massive cannon of entertainment was a true joy.

However, I found it difficult to do the parks themselves for more than a few hours at a time. It’s SO stimulating; the crowds, the stores, the food, the MUSIC everywhere… I felt mentally fried each night as I returned to the hotel room after a park visit. My body kept taking self-defense naps. I’ve never been diagnosed with a sensory processing disorder – and if I have one, it’s pretty mild – but I felt completely overwhelmed by the noise and lights and smells.

But lord have mercy, Tori LOVED IT.

She loved meeting the characters and princesses (the Rapunzel we met, in particular, was just FANTASTIC). She loved watching the coronation of Merida, even though we stood in the hot sun for an hour to do so*.

But I battled with my feminism the whole time.

Back in 2008, I wrote this post about keeping Tori away from Princesses. It was in the comments of that post that my readers pointed out my hypocrisy; that if my daughter were a BOY, I’d never restrict her from loving princesses. It was at that moment that I stood back and allowed Tori to fall into the princess machine.

Ironically, she’s emerged rather unscathed. She’s ditched dresses and frills for t-shirts and pants. She plays rough and loves horses more than she loves princesses. In fact, she was just as excited to see Merida on her horse at the coronation as she was to see all (now) 11 princesses on stage together.

But allowing her to love Princesses for a while made it possible for Tori to sink into the magic of Disney, and I’m so glad she was able to have that experience. The joy on her face made it all worthwhile.

Of course, Tori loved the pool at the hotel just as much as she loved the parks. So there’s that too.

Will we go back? I don’t know. Even with the help from the conference rates and deals (which reduced part of our stay by thousands of dollars), it was expensive. We were are frugal as we could be, but we pulled into the driveway with little cash left in our pockets. When we compared driving to flying, we didn’t remember to count things like all the road food we’d need, so I’m not sure we saved anything by driving. I have to admit that if I were to spend that much money on a trip again, there are many things I’d like to do that aren’t Disney related, like go to San Francisco and drive up the northern California coast. Like camping on a beach. Like canoeing the Delaware River.

But I’m still glad we went.

* Many have expressed concern about the changes made to Merida. I agree; I don’t like the new illustration – particularly the fact that her shoulders are bare in the new image and she’s so much thinner – but the Merida crowned at the coronation wasn’t changed, other than being older (all the actors have to be 18 legally to play a princess, so she kind of HAS to be a bit older). She strode up the path to the coronation just like she walked in the movie, all swinging arms and long strides. She wasn’t a bit dainty. And apparently the new image has been removed from the website. So maybe there is still hope.

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This post, Home Again, Home Again, originally appeared on Uppercase Woman on May 15, 2013. Tweet This Post!

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It’s been overwhelming and amazing. Here’s a snapshot.

(Story is a new app from Disney. It’s free! And awesome! This is not sponsored.)

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This post, Hello from Disney!, originally appeared on Uppercase Woman on May 10, 2013. Tweet This Post!

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It’s predawn and my family is sleeping. I can hear both Tori and Charlie snoring softly behind me as I type this; we’re in a cheap roadside hotel outside of Jacksonville, Florida. Today we finish our two day drive, and arrive at Disney World.

I don’t think I’ve ever written here about how Disney Land broke my heart in 1978, but here’s an exerpt of that story.

I was ten years old, and you can imagine how incredibly giddy I was about going to Disneyland. I was utterly over the moon.

So, we put our luggage in lockers (ah, remember lockers at airports? No? Oh, hush, you young thing you), and headed over to the shuttle desk. We approached and asked to buy tickets, and the chipper person at the desk said, “Sure! What day do you want to go?” My mom said, “Today!” and the woman’s face fell. Then she said the worst possible thing she could say to us.

Disneyland was CLOSED that day.

It was a very sad day.

I’m heading to Disney World for the Disney Social Media Moms Conference, an exclusive invite-only event that I never imagined I’d get invited to, thanks to my chronic swearing and discussion of politics on my own blog and Babble. But I did, and Tori is not quite seven years old, and I’d be a cynical asshole to turn the opportunity down.

So I didn’t. We’re going. Four nights at Disney World as a family. Our first real vacation together in five years.

I am finding myself surprisingly emotional. I’m trying to hang on to my anti-consumerism attitude (okay, fine, I’m not much of an anti-consumer) but all I can think is DISNEYDISNEYDISNEY and am finding myself filled with joy and anticipation about entering the park today.

I can’t fucking WAIT.

…..

We drove down here. We wanted to fly, of course, but it simply wasn’t possible financially. We’re being as frugal as possible on our way because money is tight, of course (as always) but we’re managing. Yesterday we drove a bit out of the way and went to a beach in South Carolina just to get Tori out of the car for a bit. It was a long detour, but we loved Hunting Island Park – the water was a balmy 70 degrees with mild waves, and Tori body surfaced and chased waves for a little over an hour. I stood in the warm water keeping an (almost unneeded) eye on her, and she’d come to me and we’d grab hands so I could pull her high above the waves.

It was glorious.

Then we got back in the car and drove to Savannah, Georgia, where we had dinner at an outdoor restaurant (lovely tacos) and then drove again until we hit the Florida border. We have just about two more hours to drive to get to Disney World.

I cannot fucking WAIT.

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This post, Magic, originally appeared on Uppercase Woman on May 9, 2013. Tweet This Post!

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So I was in California this weekend at a conference where I was speaking (yep, another trip, and I’ve got one more this week but that one is FUN) at what was likely the most beautiful place I’ve ever been, and while I was talking with the kinds of friends I only get to see at these conferences, I came to a realization.

I’ve been feeling like dominoes have fallen that have led to my current fitness and good eating phase, but I didn’t really put two and two together and recognize that the first domino was the near elimination of my migraines.

Yes, they’ve been nearly eliminated.

I wrote here about how I accidentally had a medication wash out period, causing a three week period where I didn’t have any migraine meds (luckily, I did finally find a great medical practice near me that I really like, so I’m no longer between doctors). After I finally saw a doctor and got all my prescriptions refilled, I found myself being extremely cautious about taking medication. I was surprised, in fact, to see how often I reached for them out of habit when my head hurt a bit. Many “migraines” turned out to just be a kind of morning neck stiffness, and if I got out of bed and stretched for a few minutes, it would go away.

Then I’ve found that if I’m feeling a headache starting during the day, if I take a break from work and head to the gym for a workout my headache is almost always eliminated.

In two months, I’ve taken two doses of one medication, one dose of another, and zero of the third. Yes, that’s three headaches in two months. Down from 3-5 a WEEK.

A WEEK, PEOPLE.

In fact, even on days I didn’t have a migraine my head hurt. I called those “low end” days, meaning they were at the low end of the pain spectrum, only about a 2 or 3 (with ten being the worst, obviously) so they didn’t warrant treatment.

Now, of course, I realize that I was trapped in an endless cycle of rebound headaches. Basically living with a self-caused chronic pain condition.

As I went through March with few headaches, it’s no wonder that I found myself willing to go ahead and prepare good food for myself. That I found myself willing to tackle harder recipes and make weekly food plans for my family (and, yes, restore the family dinner). As the month continued, I found myself thinking of hiking again – and then actually going hiking with a friend. Not long after that, I went ahead and went back to the gym where I’d been paying a membership fee for months and not attending.

And, now, I went to a conference where my hotel room was a ten minute walk from the conference area and I didn’t feel at all irritated because it was tiring for me to walk that far – something that had become commonplace, and I felt immense shame about it, choosing instead to just stay in one place rather than walk and get all huffy and puffy.

In fact, on this trip, I actually went to the gym the first morning I was there. I woke up at 5:30 am after a late night, and decided rather than just lay there I might as well hit the hotel’s gym (after all, it was 8:30am my time). There I had this view from the elliptical.

I watched as the sun crept up over the mountains, scattering drops of sunlight on the ocean. It was glorious.

Having a brain that works again is awesome. And I’m starting to think it shows.

Sorry about the squint. Someone left her sunglasses at home.

Hope your Monday went well.

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This post, Why the Fog Lifted, originally appeared on Uppercase Woman on May 6, 2013. Tweet This Post!

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I’m writing this as I’m sitting on a balcony at a hotel in California. The Ritz-Carlton in Laguana Nigel, to be exact, here for the Mom 2.0 Summit. I’m speaking on Saturday, which I think will be lovely, and right now I’m basking in the gorgeous view and rapidly cooling down air outside while smelling the ocean.

It’s lovely.

When I was here last year (not here, exactly, but at this conference) it was a low point for me. I was really out of shape and found the walking at the conference – which was, actually, barely any – really hard. When pictures of the conference appeared, I felt intense shame about my body and how I looked.

It was the first domino that fell that led me to lose 30 pounds last fall, of which I then gained back 15 (which I have now lost again, thank God). For the last month I’ve been going to the gym and/or hiking four or five times a week. I’m listening to advice from smart people about the best way to work out (intervals!) and pushing myself.

I cannot tell you how great it feels to be back here, at this conference, knowing I’ll be hitting the gym and walking along the ocean and it won’t be hard for me. Last week in Seattle we walked up and down some huge hills for several hours at one point, and it wasn’t hard for me.

I feel good. I’m staying – mostly – within my calorie goal, even though I’m still resistant to counting calories. I do like keeping track of what I eat. It makes me more responsible (and it’s so much easier with an app then it was with that little notebook I had to use back in the Big Box Dieting Company days).

I feel some changes; it’s harder to stay low carb for me with this level of working out (as in, massive sugar crashes so hard that I nearly vomit), so I’m trying to determine the best way to balance my protein/fat/carb ratio so I feel good.

But overall? Damn it, I feel pretty fucking great. And now, because my life is so hard, I have to go shower for an “endless summer” beach party.

It’s been a crazy year.

…..

PS: Do you know what I did on Monday? I helped my mom pack up some stuff and then took her to the airport so that she could fly to Oklahoma to see friends. My happy, content, and healthy mom.

That is fucking awesome.

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This post, Most Clichéd Title Ever: California Dreaming, originally appeared on Uppercase Woman on May 2, 2013. Tweet This Post!

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In case you were unaware, this week is World Immunization week, the perfect time to talk about the importance of global vaccinations.
Nicole of Sisters From Another Mister, together with shot@life and the United Nations Foundation are very happy to announce a blog link up to share stories about motherhood.

A Mothers day meme link up opening on May 8th and running until the 18th. I’d love to see some of my readers participate.

After all:

Every twenty seconds a child dies of a preventable disease.

Only twenty dollars saves the life of a child.

Twenty bloggers are making a difference!

It gives me great pleasure to introduce you to the other ninteen bloggers. In spite of their very busy lives, they have all pledged to make a difference. Not only donating to the fundraising for this campaign, but also donating their time and blogging resources. We’d love to have you join our efforts.

We hope to raise awareness for global vaccinations and raise money for those who cannot afford these live saving vaccines. After all, every child deserves a shot@life. 

On May 8th, the link up will be live on Sisters From Another Mister. Each photo on the grid will take you to the blogger’s posts. If you link or comment will have a chance to win one of several giveaways.

Set aside some BIG chunks of time over those ten days – they are a fab group of writers.
You will want to share them all!

Please write a post and come back between May 8th – 18th to link it up on the main page. Write it about being a Mom, having a Mom, knowing a Mom, what being a Mom means to you, about wanting to be a Mom. Write about your mom friends, or a mom who makes a difference.Write what is in your heart and think of this gift of life …

Please make donations to both link and comment (all donations are tax deductible). Donating is explained on the shot@life donation page.

Tell your friends, share and tweet, and read them all. Leave lots of comments, maybe win a prize and …know that YOU are making a difference!

The donation page is up and running should you wish to contribute now, please visit do so.

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This post, 20 Bloggers Making A Difference for Shot@Life, originally appeared on Uppercase Woman on April 29, 2013. Tweet This Post!

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As I boarded the bus, the driver nodded to me, and I felt my heart tumble into a memory. With his white, slicked back short hair and sticking out ears, the driver reminded me so much of my paternal grandfather that it actually hurt. Grandpa Howard was a slight man thanks to years of walking while in the postal service, with a ready smile and a constant jaunty bolo tie, evidence of his family’s long roots in New Mexico.

Even though I never saw my father growing up, my paternal grandparents made the trek up from Carlsbad to visit me in Albuquerque, always taking me out for Chinese food (they were the ones that taught me to use chopsticks) or to the cafeteria style dining at Furr’s, as well as showering me with gifts and love. They were my lone connection to my father, showing me baby photos of my half-siblings, growing up in Tacoma, Washington.

Blind with memories, I gazed out the bus window and watched the passing scenery, sunny and beautiful and not like the weather I expected in the northwest. I was in Seattle unexpectedly on business, a guest of the Windows 8 team at Microsoft, and headed to the Microsoft campus in Redmond to learn more about the company. I’d only been invited a week earlier, clearly a last minute stand in for someone else, and in the hectic days at home leading up to the trip I finally realized something important: Seattle was only a half hour from Tacoma, where my sister Sharmell still lives, and where our father met her mother.

I could meet her.

In a flurry of text messages and the courteous accommodations of my hosts (who allowed me to skip an official dinner), arrangements were made.

And as I stood outside the hotel waiting for her, my eyes settled on a slight woman walking toward me, her brisk walk and bright blue eyes looking just like mine.

We hugged, and we cried.

These reunions are beautiful but bittersweet; I’d had them with my other half siblings more than once, and there is both the incredible zing of genetic recognition but the ache of family denied. Because of my father’s, oh, prolific nature he scattered children across the country (and, quite possibly, in the places he was stationed in the military around the world as well). But in a twisted mix of married and non-married relationships, both Sharmell and I were denied any access to our full families growing up.

Blessedly, that stops now.

Throughout our few short hours together, we marveled at the similarities between us. Our laughs, the way we both twist our hair, our nearly identical height (a height my other two sisters share).

But mostly, it’s all about the eyes, the bright blue eyes we all got from our grandmother Corrine, our father’s mother. Sharmell, it seems, also got her very wavy hair.

I actually see a lot of my grandfather, too, when I look at Sharmell.

But there are differences, too. Sharmell and I didn’t look much alike as kids; our lips are different, and her face shares a soft roundness like her maternal grandmother. But then, there are the blue eyes, covered in the same glasses.

We skyped in my sister Diana to our meeting, so we could all be together the best we could.

Many tears were shed during our conversation, with Diana stunned by how much Sharmell and I look alike while Sharmell was stunned by how much Diana and I look alike, and I marveled at how much we all look like each other. Growing up as an only child (much as Sharmell did, as well, although she has a brother fifteen years younger) and looking not much like my brown -eyed mother, I’m not used to being surrounded by faces that look like mine but different. That is a gift that other families got to have, not us.

But no more. We are building a family out of the scraps our father left us. And I am so grateful.

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This post, Bittersweet, originally appeared on Uppercase Woman on April 25, 2013. Tweet This Post!

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Monday I woke up for the third day in a row in a fucking MOOD. It started Friday night when Charlie and I went to see The Place Beyond The Pines, a smart and intriguing movie that I completely fucking hated. Like Ryan Gosling AND Bradley Cooper couldn’t save it for me. Charlie felt badly since the movie was his choice, I was rude, and walked into the house from our date night snapping at each other.

Saturday I had a nice morning hiking with Tori and my friend Annie, but then lunch out sucked (who fucks up a salad with chicken?) and I came home cranky. Sunday we went to the Philadelphia Cherry Tree Blossom festival, not realizing it was a crazy shit show of CROWDS and nowhere to sit (grass was too wet) and $8 hot dogs and $40 Japanese toys that Tori got very mad about not getting to buy.

And then come Monday, which was a clusterfuck of work stuff, and then… boom. Literally. Boston.

And the whole world shuddered back into perspective.

Like most of us, I was glued to the footage, despairing once again about the absolute cruelty of some humans. But I also saw the first responders running into danger, the random nearby people that helped and saved lives, and even the social media community behave responsibly, shooting down bullshit rumors and urging caution and confirmation from trusted news sources before sharing info.

It’s a terrible thing. A horrible, terrible, shitty fucking thing that makes me feel angry and helpless and just… so fucking sad. So terribly fucking sad.

My prayers go out to Boston, to the runners, to the families, to the first responders, and to all the people that are affected by this tragedy.

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This post, Things Are Fucked Up, Y’All., originally appeared on Uppercase Woman on April 17, 2013. Tweet This Post!

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“I think I’m ready for bed!” She says, her face breaking into a semi-toothless yawn.

I’d just checked the weather map and saw that a big thunderstorm was coming through, and I knew she gets nervous with the noise and lightning.

“Honey,” I reply, “there’s a storm coming; why don’t you watch Sponge Bob and wait until it’s over before going to bed?”

She grabs my phone and opens Netflix, happy for the extra screen time since we’ve just reduced hers by an hour a day, forcing her to enjoy the nice weather.

I go out to the front porch, light off, and sit on the glider waiting for the storm to come. Briefly, she sets the phone down and joins me, but at the first signs of lightning, she shudders and clings to my side. Then the first peals of thunder rumbled and she can’t take it, running inside and shutting the door.

I wait for it to come, face turned to the wind feeling the big swell of hot air blowing the loose dust and pollen left by too many dry days. Then, suddenly, the air cools down ten degrees just like that, and BOOM, more thunder comes.

Then the rain, the sweet, cooling rain pounding the hot pavement, misting up to a steamy fog the height of passing car’s headlights. The mist drifts onto the porch, spraying my face with cool water, coating my glasses, making my heart sing.

It passes quickly, and I head into the house to put her to bed. As I hold her hand and sing her favorite lullaby (Amazing Grace), she says, softly: “Excuse me.” I stop singing, and she says, “Why do you love thunderstorms so much?”

I think for a moment, and I say, “Well, I guess it reminds me how small I am, how minor a player in the face of a big world. Weather is so much more powerful than I am, and I can stand in the wind, braced, feeling small and insignificant.

“And I love the freshness of it, the way it sweeps away the heat and the dust and pollen, scrubbing the streets clean and making everything smell like the earth, rich and loamy. I love the mist on my face, I love the cooler air, and I love the swirl and the power and the joy.

“Nature is an amazing thing, and I love being out there, even if only safe on the porch, watching it happen.”

She’s silent, her eyes closed. After a moment, I ask her if she wants me to sing again. I sing about dangers, toils, and snares, then pause briefly before singing her second favorite song, All the Pretty Horses.

As she drifts off to sleep, the breeze cools down her stuffy room. I stroke her hair back off her sticky forehead and think, and thunderstorms remind me there is a God, and God gave me you.

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This post, First Thunderstorm of Spring, originally appeared on Uppercase Woman on April 10, 2013. Tweet This Post!

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