Spanishbelle’s BodyBlog

A while back my girlfriend and I went on a shopping spree.  It was girls day out/slumber party.  In this one particular store I found a deck of cards in the clearance section and it read:  LE CHIC CHICK, The Strength Deck.  50 Tips for chic living.

Being that we were going to lunch then headed home for a  party I made the $5 purchase.  I figured it would give us something to bounce off of each other and talk about.  Well, we laughed, she cried (hence about the 9th beer) but most of all, we found the deck to be wise.  So, if you’re a chic looking for some chick advice, keep on reading.  As for the men, well, if you’re with a chick, know a chick, in chase of a chick, this won’t hurt you either.  You could be a very chic dude! 

Le Chic Chick knows….

How to Set Boundaries……

Put a limit on how much you invest in others–if you have given someone the same advice three or four times, call it quits.  You can be there for them, but don’t invest your time and energy into fixing them.  Many people solicit advice, few profit from it.

Learn to say "no." You are not going to be liked by everyone…and that is okay as long as you like yourself.

When you feel yourself on the verge of getting sick or behind in your personal affairs, put yourself first.

Whenever you feel you’ve put in all the effort and others continue to take or push for more, cut them off and ration out your time and good will until they begin to contribute.

As a rule…at the very least, invest the same amount in yourself as you do in others.  Don’t give it all away.

Acknowledge when you are no longer helping and instead are enabling someone.  It is an unhealthy dynamic for all parties involved.   

Whoever you are, hope there’s some insight for you to take with you…until then, be chic!

The Pastor’s Ass
  
      
The pastor entered his donkey in a race and it won.
  
He was so pleased with the donkey that he entered it in another race, and it won again.
  

I’m feeling a little better, but not at my 100%.  So, on one of those “not feeling so well” nights my husband and I were in bed.  It was that time….you know, kids are in bed, dog has been taken out, lights out and no noise.  Quiet enough to the point where you can actually look at your husband and SEE him and have a conversation and hear what he is saying without being interrupted.  Our conversation started about his week and how on this one particular day he was listening to the radio and a man had called into the radio station and mentioned how he was no longer attracted to his wife because she had put on a substantial amount of weight.  My husband said to me he found the guy to be a real jerk and if he was in it for the waistline he was in it for the wrong reasons.  He proceeded to say he loved me and he did not feel that way.  “Seriously?”  I asked.  “If I gained an enormous amount of weight you’d still love me?  That’s not the issue, the issue is would you want to have sex with me?  If this man married a size 2 and now the 2 is an 18, he’s still suppose to be passionately attracted to that?”  “Personally,” I continued, “I would not be cool with it.  I didn’t marry a 300 pound man.  Now, if you were a 300 pound man of pure muscle, well now, walk this way.  However, if you were 300 pounds of fat, I don’t think so."  I was called SHALLOW.  LOL.  I agree it sounded shallow.  After a pause I replied, "Well, maybe I am shallow.  I’ve had a couple of girlfriends give me a call saying they love their man but weren’t attracted to them because of their weight gain.  I’m inclined to believe more women feel this way, but because of the whole love thing and the fear of being judged they just keep it under wraps.  She told me, didn’t tell her man, I’m not one of those chicks."  He laughed and said, "You’re such a guy…."

I’ve been under the weather and out of the gym for a couple of days now.  I’m thinking it’s the flu, a stiff neck, loss of appetite, a little hot & cold, feeling weak and very nauseous.  So, my sister called and I let her in on the fact I wasn’t feeling well, she called my other sister, my other sister called my mother and my mother called me.  While on the phone my mother says, "Belle, heard you’re sick and I have a joke for you."  Sick or not, I’m rolling my eyes on my end.  I can’t imagine what my mother will find funny.  She asks, "What four animals do you see after you have sex?"  I pause, none to be honest and reply, "Well, I don’t know Mom, I don’t see animals after having sex.  What are the animals?"  She laughs, "You see 2 Asses, 1 wet Cat and a dead Cock."  LOL…gotta love her!

I’m convinced last week was a "boob" week for me.  So, there came the little issue of the fake boob thing and later on I had an issue with some real knockers!  In the end, I wonder, what is the universe trying to tell me?  Jury still out on that.

So there I was sitting at a wrestling tournament  when a mom with her 3 to 4 kids and a baby sat in front of me, no big deal.  The problem arose when she decided to breast feed her little tyke.  First, she covered herself, some.  She lifted her shirt, reached under her blouse and hoisted her bra above her breast.  Hence, this exposed all her back fat, tramp stamp and the her gut depending on which breast the baby was nursing on.  Afterwards, she handed the baby over to her sister, proceeded to get up from the bench, turned and faced the people in the stands, reached inside her blouse adjusted her loose breast into her bra and did a little wiggle dance to make sure the girls were nice and settled in their place.  White shirt by the way, everything very noticeable. 

Yes, this irked me.  I don’t have a thing against breast feeding, I breast feed my boys and a nephew.  If you know you are going to be out and about, what’s so wrong with using a pump?  It takes a little practice, some time but hey, so does getting the diaper bag and everything else ready.  Yes, there are those times where you forget the bottle on the table or the kid just wants more.  Here’s where a nursing bra, a button down blouse and an appropriate size blanket come in handy.  Your stuff is not hanging from the bottom of your bra & shirt or peeking out from the top of it.  Then there was this walking around business with baby on boob and in tow, sit your ass down for goodness sake….the kid is eating! 

I’m all for the breast feeding Mommy bonding, better for baby milk thing.  That being said, I don’t want to see a hanging breast, breastfeeding your baby under your shirt, or a breast re-adjustment dance.  It’s really not necessary if you take the time to wear the right equipment and do the appropriate things.  So, fake or real, if you’ve got milk…..do it right!

I’ve started off with the best intentions and isn’t it just the case….shit happens.  First, I guess I was overtraining.  I was too restless to sleep and so I cut back, cardio, intensity, everything.  I’m now sleeping like a baby.  I can’t stay awake to save my soul, especially a day after a good workout, I need atleast two hours of additional sleep.  There is always something that comes up and tempts you to not make that trip to the gym or stops you from reaching your goals, those external and internal intangible and tangible factors.  That damn scale always throws a wrench in things for me.  I must let go of that number…100.  If I work out, I can’t hold on to that weight.  If I stop working out getting to that weight is easy.  I remember growing up the lowest number on the scale was the factor to take pride in.  I saw my mother do it, her sisters do it, my cousins, and so on.  Never mind they were 100 pounds of mush and flab, it was always about the number.  A personal trainer in the gym asked me if I weighed 120 the other day.  WTF!  He was at a loss for words when I told him what I weighed and another lady came by and agreed with him saying I looked about 120.  I racked those weights back up, took a walk and came back and hit the weights a little harder.  It’s one of those things where you’ve been conditioned for so long in that manner it’s very difficult to keep it in perspective.  It’s one of those things where change doesn’t come fast enough, or the changes that do come are not what you envisioned and once again it’s difficult to keep things in perspective.  Come to think of it, it’s not about those weights you push in the gym, it comes down to those heavy thoughts taking place in that small place between your ears. 

After a light warm-up session, I was making my way to the Smith Squat machine.  OH MY GOD what was that smell?  It hit me when I came around the corner and it permeated half the free weight workout area.  Everyone else was working-out on the other side of the gym, obviously they smelled this also, with the exception of these 2 guys.  I was supersetting between a Romanian Deadlift and the Squat machine and I could not make it through the first set.  It was nasty, not the smell of someone forgetting to put on deoderant but just plain dirty body-odor.  The nastiest smelling sweat that has ever crossed this nose.  I became nauseous to the point I wanted to hurl.  I moved on to the rest of my workout and returned when they were gone and for that matter so did everyone else.  I don’t know what to say other than it was not a good thing! 

I decided to take some GAKIC before heading to the gym.  I normally get fatigued halfway through the workout.  I noticed my fatigue hit around the last set and I went heavier on the weights.  Twenty-five pounds heavier on the quads, 10 pounds heavier on the hamstrings and the only difference in my routine was the GAKIC.  I’ve taken it before and I’ve had mixed results, yesterday was good, we’ll see what happens today. 

I’ve known her for about 10 years now.  Our encounter came about due to our husbands and their history together.  We never quite clicked, yet attended each other’s family events and what have you due to our husbands friendship.  As the years have passed by, babies have been born, kids have graduated from HS and moved on to college.  Our waistlines grew over the years.  I opted to join a running program and purchased a membership to a gym.  She opted to call her doctor, asked him to prescribe her the strongest diet pill on the market available and he did.  Well, if you’ve had a baby or know of someone who has or if you’ve ever been overweight, there are certain things that happen to your body that might never return to what they used to be.  Some things lose their bounce, some things bounce from that point on, some stuff shrivels up like a raisin and then there are those times where you are left with the extras.  Extra ass, extra pouch of skin on the belly, the possabilities are endless.  There are those fortunate souls who end up with more of the good stuff, whatever the scenario may be for you, you do have that bouncing bundle of joy that will love you.  That is, of course, until they hit the teenage years! 

You can imagine my surprise when I heard my she had decided to undergo surgery.  She underwent a tummy tuck and breast reduction.  Seriously, I thought to myself, what the hell was she thinking?  This was the same woman who scheduled her C section to avoid  undergoing a vaginal birth.  The same woman who says she despises to sweat, working out is barbaric, therefore her own children have never been in any kind of sport as of yet.  You can throw them a book, but don’t throw them a ball, you will hurt the kid. Personally, I had no doubt about how things would turn out in the end for her, her husband and family.

A couple of months or so after the surgery, she looked fantastic.  Slim and very slender.  It’s been about a year since the surgery, ran into her and her family this weekend and I could not believe my eyes, well….yes I could and it was horrible.  Fatter than ever and she reeks of misery.  

Many things come to mind here.  I understand in some cases people need surgery due to a life and death situation they’ve put themselves in.  They’ve run out of time to make changes, therefore surgery is necessary.  Not in her case though.  I understand there are those times when you work out and no matter what you do, you will never see your ABS unless you have that reminder of a pouch removed.  You’ve put in the time and the sweat and did everything you possibly could, time to go in seach of another solution.  I also understand she did nothing but pop a pill, threw money on a doctor’s desk and threw herself on an operating table.  I feel bad simply because I don’t feel bad for her. 

Here is what I don’t understand.  I don’t understand how the surgery in itself made sense to her.  I don’t understand how there are doctors out there who fail to ask their patients, "what are you doing right now to help your situation?"  I don’t understand how this is now her husbands fault.  You see, with the surgery, failed surgery, come scars.  The physical ones, the psychological ones and the financial ones.  Psychologically she ended up on the surgery table because she didn’t like how she looked and felt badly about herself.  The scars of the surgery (hip to hip, I won’t even mention the breast scars) have added to her insecurities.  Those insecurities have affected their intimacy even more now and there are no refunds for a failed surgery, money gone. 

The irony of it all, well her husband never had an issue with her waistline.  She was heavy when they met, loved her anyway, married her.  You bet your ass she lost all that weight for their wedding and ate for two when they conceived.  I’m thinking he was just trying to make her happy.  So there they were, him with a sheer look of frustration on his face hanging on for the sake of the kids.  The last thing I don’t understand, she still doesn’t get it. 

So there’s this new chic in the gym whose purchased double d’s (maybe bigger) were barely contained in her little sports bra top.  Personally, she was in danger of falling out and physcially falling over.  Guys were gawking and women were glaring.  While washing my hands in the dressing room mouths were certainly moving.  Everyone had an opinion, especially this group of three friends….from her being tacky, to women shouldn’t get implants, the money she spent could have been put to better use…counseling, and my personal favorite, heard they feel like rocks.  

I had a bb friend point out the obvious and it’s just so obvious.  It hit me like a V8 this morning once I read his entry.  It’s a lesson that presents itself over and over and well….slow learner here.  LOL.  It’s comical to get so caught up in our own undoing or doing you tend to miss the point, it’s a journey, a marathon…not a sprint.  How often is this going to happen?  Well, obviously until I get it, on my own or when someone else points it out. 

Dear Lord: Thank you for bringing me to Timmy’s house 

                      
              and  

                          Not Michael Vick’s 

                       
                                      AMEN!