Nutrisytem Diaries 4/6


I have exactly 12 days until my birthday festivities to try to look good in this dress. I’m turning 31 and that’s such a nothing age so I may as well look good. Also, my personal theme for this year is: I love myself. For this year, I hope to invest in my own mental and physical health while encouraging others to do the same.

Anyway, this week I have to eat, sleep and breathe ab work!! I moved from my apartment to a rental house this weekend and cheated myself by not eating on schedule AND eating junk. I probably gained back those precious 5lbs I lost–things have just been so stressful lately.

Maybe attempting 2 hour gym sessions at least 3 times this week will help. Ugh, I’ll keep you posted (I officially hate being a woman).

Nutrisystem Diaries – 3.18

*This is not going to be a daily thing…I promise*
I don’t feel like I’m getting any smaller and it’s bumming me out a little. I’m supposed to lose like 5 pounds in the first week– and I translate that to mean that I should bust the two piece out of the closet. And people keep saying, “Well, if you’re working out, you might gain before you lose.” That’s ass backward– I wanna LOSE before I lose HENCE WORKING OUT AND BEING ON THIS STUPID DIET! (Or “lifestyle change” is probably what I’m supposed to call it…)
So, the good thing about Nutrisystem is that you do get to eat all day. My obsession/love affair with food doesn’t have to come to a complete end. So my schedule looks a bit like this:
9am – Breakfast
11am – Snack
1pm – Lunch
3pm – Snack
6 or 7 – Dinner
In theory this sounds awesome, but yesterday my 3pm snack alarm went off and I remember thinking to myself, “Really? I just fucking ate!”  Maybe the angle is to make you eat so often that you just get tired of food in general and it becomes something you have to do to survive and not the highlight of your life (as it used to be!)  I should really hold off on bragging about it though until I start to see some pounds dropping. Tomorrow will be a week…

Two piece swimsuit goals (Forever 21–b/c budget)

Nutrisystem Diaries – 3.17

NSD 3.17

Too much filter

Reason #3,467 of why I want to lose weight:
If I am anything above a size 10-12 I look like a chubby video hoe in whatever I wear!

I put on an outfit this morning that was supposed to say “Its warm outside. I will dress accordingly and professionally. ” However, by the time I got off the bus with my pencil skirt riding high and my tank top riding low, I think I was saying,  “Everyone step back please…I may twerk at any moment!” (Yes I am obsessed with twerking but only because I feel like it looks like I can do it but I can’t. I’m a walking false advertisement.)

Anyway, this is not how want to look while going over expense reports with my boss. Weight loss has to happen because I’m too poor and too vain to start buying baggier clothes. At the very least, I am grateful this skirt doesn’t have a slit in it anywhere. Seriously, what kind of sadistic, perverted fashion designer came up with that bullshit?

Bread, Beer and Fapping

… not necessarily in that order, but these are definitely 3 things I need to get rid of in my life. So, I think I’m going to fast from the triplets for a month in some feeble attempt to lose some weight and find better ways to relieve my stress find enlightenment.


Bread and Beer
…are throwing my ph levels off and doing nothing to help me lose my belly. It is really a shame that the MOST REFRESHING THING EVER after a workout is a cold 40 oz of MGD (try not to judge, will ya?)  Last summer I did the whole Plus Sized Fun posts about my half naked vacation with my hot best friend and her hot friends and it was cute or whatever BUT showing up chubby to the nude beach is cute only once. The next year it’s like, Ok B, you gotta get your life together!  And this is why God hasn’t blessed me with an abundance of cash because it might sit in a college fund for the kids for a few days (tops) before I withdrew it all to get one of those amazing surgeries where they take awful fat on your body and place it somewhere awesome.

Furthermore, I assume that the novelty of the chill girlfriend that sucks down 24 oz Milwaukee Best Ices has just about worn off.  I have nightmares about finishing a can and him looking over at me like, “OK you gonna do some sit ups now?” (He would never say that because he’s great and encouraging and loves my body the way it is… but still…) I just have to DO BETTER! I lack discipline and I need put some sort of plan in motion to gain some sort of control over my life AND I need to change my bad lifestyle habits as a huge big ups to Jesus for blessing me with all this happiness stuff.

So the bread and beer is the first to go because it will be the hardest. If I can overcome this, even briefly, then the world is my fucking oyster.

Ok…so this is kind of gross, depending on who you are, but let me be candid– as is my way. A problem I deal with, and maybe I am not alone in this, is that I pick up bad habits from whoever my romantic muse is at the time. As I get older I think I am learning that I need to pay more attention to the people around me and how they influence my behavior. I started off my dating life as the goody two shoes church girl that was all about that missionary position, and have ended up the swinging from the chandelier girl. After sexual partner/failed dating attempt number 4 or so I just became so desensitized to the VALUE of sex and so accustomed to the frequency of the act without the substance. I am aware that nowadays taking your sexuality into your own hands and being in touch with yourself (pun intended) means that you are the ultimate feminist. No women should have to wait on a man for her pleasure! A friend even told me that she has a co-worker that keeps a vibrator at work and has suggested she do the same—I suppose this is liberating.


Listen, not to sound judgy but that woman is a psychopath. No one NEEDS a vibrator (or any tool for sexual stimulation) at their place of work. Isn’t that the kind of thing that George Michael got arrested for? And anyway, I’m sure vibrators are splendid (not a fan, personally) and two finger stimulation is WONDERFUL, but it is not the same as intimacy with another person and if you’re not careful—like me—it can become a release that you crave just to relieve stress. I should be in the gym relieving stress, or cooking or something, I don’t know. Now that I have a steady sexual partner I’m kind of feeling like it’s a damn good time to attempt to eliminate fapping out of my life permanently. I’m not knocking those that have to have their dailies, but I think it’s a good time for me to kick the habit. Sex is entertaining, so naturally this is a fun time to be in America and basking in the glow of our oversexed culture—but I don’t want it anymore. Also, I’d be interested to see the impact it would have on my current sex life, and if it could possibly help me to restore some of the reverence I’ve lost by engaging in casual sex.

But these are just thoughts, I really have no idea. Time will tell how this works out for me, and I will be sure to journal my thoughts throughout the month long fast. And OF COURSE, if anyone would like to join me on this quest you can feel free to update me about your experience in the comments section.




I throw the baby in the stroller and proceed to walk on one the angriest walks I’ve ever taken. I know that this is a new part of my life: walking everywhere. Hmm, where is my car? It decided not to start after being parked outside of daycare for a hasty afternoon pickup. My brother called and told me the news while I was coming home from work and I felt the heavy tension return home to my forehead. My first panicked thought was, “How the fuck am I supposed to get to the gym?” I can’t stop obsessing about this.

With the chaos of all that’s going on in my life, this is the least of my worries but I am fixated. Somehow my ability to get to and from the gym with ease equates to the final balance and happiness I feel I need in my life. Calm down guys, I know you’re poor and hurting and suffering loss— but the gym will make everything better! This “no excuses” bitch pictured above has got me believing that somehow this is the key. I suppose its not really her, its my reaction to her that’s messing me up. What’s my excuse? Bitch, I’m tired! This morning as I’m walking the baby to daycare in a stroller with a flat tire, we roll passed my busstop to see a bottle of hand lotion on the ground. I know instantly that its mine and it immediately sets fire to a stressor fuse in me that’s been burning for some time. Seriously, wtf am I doing in my life where I’m so poor and deranged that I actually contemplate dusting off my old hand lotion from the ground and putting it back in my purse? And how did I manage to drop it out of my purse without noticing? And why don’t I realize that I am not in a position to be throwing $1.50 down the drain like that? Let’s not even mention how my ashy hands will suffer! I need to get my life together– I need to go to the gym.

At the gym I can relieve some tension and even stop half lying to my co-worker about going. I suppose I’m not lying, per se, I do PLAN to go to the gym but my car, and fate, and the gods of hotness just have something else in the cards for me. I stood in the employee lounge listening to this little, beautifully shaped cock diesel goddess (she looks like the hot woman from 12 Years A Slave) complain about how she struggles with her body and I’m thinking “Wow, are we really having this conversation?” I try to listen to her with a sympathetic ear but my mind begins to wander to whether I should make the kid’s lunches tonight or just pass out when I go home, or if I should go on a liquid fast until my best friend comes to town then maybe I’ll have a flat stomach for when we go out drinking. I really shouldn’t be drinking, its fattening and too expensive. But, I digress.

My #lifeflow is like this blog post. It’s just a mindless stream of shit happening with no real flow or pattern and I can’t keep the reins on it. Furthermore, I don’t even know if I used the proper spelling of the word “reins”– and I really hate that I use words like “furthermore” and care about spelling! Anyway, I have no car, no money, no man, no common sense, no freedom, no life and all I need to fix it is the gym! The gym is home. I know my place there. I show up in my baggy t-shirt, dingy yoga pants and old running shoes and I know where I belong– in the back and far away from the mirrors and hot chicks taking #gymflow selfies. I belong on the treadmill panting it out, music blasting and tears flowing because I just need some sort of outlet to relieve the stress in in my life. Minor stress to some, but colossal stress to me. At the gym I don’t have to constantly fight the battle to be understood, accommodated, appreciated, loved, stress-free, worry-free, or problem-free. In the gym I ain’t shit and as I sweat it all out on that fucking elliptical I realize that here, I don’t have to be shit.


Embrace the Crazy: Behind the Scenes Photo Shoot

So, I had put off this photo shoot for a few weeks because at the time it was supposed to happen I just didn’t have the energy to go through with it. I just was not mentally there. So, fast-forward to the morning of November 17 and I am feeling really self-conscious and nervous about the shoot so naturally I ate a piece of cake for breakfast to boost my self-esteem and calm my nerves. I was in line at the CVS buying the thickest pair of false eyelashes I could find and suddenly aware that I was about to be half naked in front of two of my closest friends. Was there any way out of this?! Whose idea was this, anyway? …oh, wait that ‘s right, it was my idea.

I am happy to report that I not only survived, but my friends Angela and Justin survived. I wanted to show the Behind the Scenes stuff just to sort of give more background AND to show that I am fully aware that I am not a model. I was far far and away from my level of comfort.

Why the Straight Jacket, You Insensitive Bitch?

I feel like I’ve clarified the purpose of this blog enough that I don’t want to go overboard with it. Everything I write about is internal, it’s about me and it has nothing to do anyone and their personal experience but if you can’t get with it—that’s cool. The jacket is a serious piece, it represents how stifled and censored I feel when I am attempting to live up to the standards of others. The concept of a straight jacket was fascinating to me—it’s purpose to detain and constrain and the positioning of the arms hugging yourself. I appreciated the symbolism of feeling confined by the standards of most people and looking inward to find the strength to break free of their expectations and marching to the beat of your own drum.

If you want one they’re like $30 on Amazon.

Where are my pants?

In my bag somewhere—in order to just dive into things I shed them immediately when we got there. It was nerve racking and took me so far out of my comfort zone I almost called it off. However, when I am compelled to do something I am driven and I can’t stop or let it go—and that’s why I have so much trouble in dating and life in general—but I digress. I feel it was important for me to be as exposed as possible because that’s what the blog is all about. After harboring so many secrets about my well-being and hiding who I truly was from the world I developed a deep fear of exposure so I’m always trying to push myself to be open and to accept myself as I am because I’m fully aware that most won’t. Kind of a “be kind to yourself because no one else gives a shit” thing, or however that saying goes. Furthermore, it’s been no secret my struggles with my weight. I am the largest I’ve ever been and I continue to be so hard on myself because of it. Embrace the crazy… embrace the fatty, this is me pure and unadulterated (besides a face full of makeup!)

Photoshoot? You are definitely no model…


How do you feel now?

Incredibly silly. This isn’t my thing, I just wanted to try it for once if not only for the fact that I’m a woman and want to feel pretty sometimes, dammit! Promo is a necessary evil—and I started off doing the blog just for me because I have to write to maintain my sanity, but now I’m interested in pushing things further and seeing how far it can go. I’m only 6 months in but I do wish to establish a brand that I can feel good about—because of the subject matter, that brand is ME. Only now I will have a drawer full of about 20 shots of me in a straight jacket struggling not to look goofy and cross-eyed in front of the camera. But as I continue to challenge myself by doing random things that put me out there, I learn more about who I am and I have become more comfortable in my skin.

Anything else?

I really and truly thought that straight jacket was going to be so much longer! :-/ I’m showing a lot of leg!

Just for Laughs…

One of my tags for the YouTube video is “BBW” and to me, this is the funniest thing on Earth 😉

Stay tuned for the official post to celebrate my 6 month “blogoversary” and the final reveal of the photos!

Thanks for Reading,
Your Homie

Breakthrough…My Pants

I managed not to stab my bro to death this morning as he stood in the doorway of my bedroom at 4am trying to wake me to go to the gym. He was nice about it– just sang a song about the importance of physical fitness and left the “fat ass” part out of it. Anyway, I ignored him and chose to skip the gym this morning.

Fast forward about an hour later and I’m in my maternity work pants wondering if I had really sunk as low as to resorting back to maternity clothes. Also, these clothes are meant to show off the belly and while it might get me a seat on the metro from some confused passenger (IS she fat or pregnant?) It wasn’t worth the blow to my self esteem. SO…I took a stab in the dark and a risk of nervous breakdown, and tried on my cute little navy blue Express slacks (with a safety pin in the hem because they are kind of expensive but Express can’t make clothes for shit) and THEY FIT! I couldn’t get these past my thighs a few weeks ago.

It’s going to be a long time coming, but this is definitely a breakthrough!!! And though I am popping out of these pants at least I’m wearing them, dammit! This is going to be the best (most uncomfortable) day ever. Unfortunately, it looks like I’ll need to hit the gym after work…fuck.

Identity Series: Weight, What?

Vocabulary words for the day:

Potent- short for potential bf; love interest

Suburban- hot male at least 6’ or taller, over 200lbs

I’ve decided to make eating right and weight loss my latest obsession. Unfortunately, I have a short attention span so I have to make myself become obsessed with it in order to try to take it seriously and see results. Furthermore, I think I’m going to make a deal with the devil and join my local gym (booooooo!) But the main reason behind any sort of diet plan that I’m involved in is: looking good naked.


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The Right Fit: Going through the list of exes, and potents it’s clear that I have no rhyme or reason about size and fit. For a brief stint I went through a “suburban” phase because awesome. I am 5’ 7” myself and even at my smallest size I am not a tiny girl SO, of course it’s nice to curl up next to a strapping Suburban that can throw you around and still tower over you when you wear your 6” stilettos. However, lately I’ve found myself reverting back to my high school tastes—the little guys are just doing it for me now!

Not long ago, I went to meet a friend for drinks in the city and, like a true mom that doesn’t give a damn, I threw on yoga pants, a cutoff sweatshirt and still had on that morning’s makeup to complete my “look”.  I got a couple beers in and on one of my many trips back from the bathroom I notice a gorgeous young man sitting in the once empty barstool next to mine. As I returned to my seat, he looks me up and down and says, “Hey, Beautiful”. HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA–sorry, that was my initial reaction inside of my head. I gave him a tight smile and quickly turned my back to him. Yeah.right. This guy was way too gorgeous, way too young and he was about my height and looked like if I tried to sit on his lap he would snap in half. What the hell? Anyway, fast forward to me being in a particularly friendly mood and this guy actually ended up becoming a potent. Later I had to ask him why he would even dare hit on me while I was clearly WEARING PAJAMAS IN PUBLIC. His response: “Your ass was just so phat and it was hanging off the barstool—I just had to talk to you.” Wait, what?


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Mo’ Booty, Mo Problems: Somewhere in the land of crazy black dudes this all makes sense to them! I can put on my tightest dress and walk by a group of 6 guys; 4 will whistle and comment that I’m “phat as shit” (good) and the other 3 will shake their heads and consider me just plain fat. (And I’m not bad at math, I know 4+3= 7 not 6, but when it comes to checking out women there always seems to be one straggler that joins the crowd and wants to insert his opinion, too). For whatever the reason, the more weight I gain the smaller the guy I attract. The greatest thing I have to fear in losing weight is losing my sex appeal…wait, what? While it is great to put on a few pounds and still get male attention, I know that I can’t be the only one confused about this phenomenon. There’s a joke I read on Twitter the other day: I hope to one day have as much confidence as a plus sized black woman. Plus sized black women are simply confused individuals, so the safest thing to do is to at least be confident about it…I say this speaking as one myself. Though I still buy regular sized clothes, so I don’t really consider myself one—but I’ve had other women refer to me as plus-sized. I’ve had guys refer to me as thick, or on the lighter of side thick, or phat or WHATEVER! I really just…don’t…know. But I do know that my ass and boobs will shrink back to their normal size and with it will go this newfound mojo I’ve discovered with hot, lean guys. All those lanky bones, flat stomachs and sinewy physiques—sighhhhhh, but I DIGRESS!


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Confidence is Close to Loveliness: What I do know is that my confidence and self-esteem is at an all time low. In spite of all the extra attention I have been getting from males, the fact of the matter is that I am no longer comfortable with my body at this current weight. I appreciate that there are men out there that don’t mind that fries and a four-piece nugget come along with this shake, but the fact that I’m not happy means I need to do something about it for ME. I suck at discipline but I am going to try…and I’ll try not to sob when my friends look at me and ask, “What happened to your ass?”


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