Hi, My Name is Heather, and I Lose Interest Quickly

I cannot believe it's been since mid-November that I last published a blog. Not that I had millions of readers hanging on my every word, but I know I have at least.....2 readers? 3 maybe? Well, one is better than none, I suppose. And as my title says, I do lost interest quickly.
So, what since November? Christmas with the in-laws in Kentucky where the warmest it got was a whopping 41' and coldest was a mere 11'. My big 30th birthday blow out ended up being 4 really good friends, my sister & brother-in-law, the hubs, mom & dad, and brother & his gf. A good crowd, though not the gang busting scene I had imagined. I always set my expectations too high. I think it's God's way of saying, "It's not all about you, you narcissistic wench!" (I know God calls me neither narcissistic nor a wench). After dinner & presents at Indigo Joe's (presents being an awesome blue topaz necklace/earrings/ring combo from mom & dad, pearl earrings from my sister, a yoga book from my friend, a hilarious book "Heartthrobs: God's Gifts from the 1970's & 80's" from my other friend, and a beautiful set of black pearls from the hubs) mom & dad hightailed it home while the rest of us went out. We ended up going to the old Dougal MacGuires' pub, which is now called Fitzpatrick's. Awesome, awesome place! We sat & talked & drank for a good 3 or 4 hours. And drank. And laughed. And drank. I had about 3 Cape Cods, and had a pretty rockin' buzz. Then, my brother in law Adam told the waitress to double up on the next one she brought me, which near 'bout could peel paint it was so stiff. After that, I got the delicious warm, comfortable, sleepy intoxication. Then, Adam said, "Birthday Shots!" and I ended up downing a Red Headed Slut (no offense to any redheads who may be reading). That's when things took a slightly downward turn. I remember Alison looking at me and asking," Are you ok? Do you need to throw up?". I remember not being able to answer her with my mouth for fear I would projectile vomit, but not really feeling nauseous. I remember my legs not really working - which Alison calls "Walking Like a Pirate", a common ailment of some drinkers- making it to the bathroom & Alison giving me the rules for throwing up : don't touch anything, don't touch the toilet, quit spitting because it'll make you throw up, don't swallow the water from the tap just rinse your mouth with it". All the while she kept giving me a pep talk,
"You're straight as a fucking arrow. It's all in your head -you can walk out of here
right now and have no problems. I'm tellin' you, your straight. You just need some
air, and you'll be fine."

We have a slight pep talk before planning our escape to the privacy of the parking lot; I'm to keep my eyes on the door, not look at my feet & let her push/guide me out the door. Take slow, deep breaths, and for the love of God, don't think about what you ate or drank. It works. We get to the safety of the car, and I have to admit, the cool air made me feel better. Then, Alison came out with a bag, a piece of bread & a cup of water. And then, the next thing I know, "ol Jed's a millionaire." Right there in the parking lot, off of Laurens Rd. I chucked. On her shoes. Well, indirectly on her shoes. CSI agents would call it "spatter". But, it was my first ever "drunk vomit" & I felt like a new person when I was done. Matty took me home, and I sat by the toilet for a few more minutes. Actually, I fell asleep resting my head on the commode, and awoke to throw up one more time. Then I went to bed. Plus side: no hangover in the morning. And that's the end of Heather Drinking to Get Drunk. The End.

As far as New Year's, I'm doing what everyone else is: the ambiguous "Losing Weight/Eating Healthy" resolution. But I am making a solid effort towards this. Most days. I go to my Saturday morning Yogalates w/ my friend Jessica almost every weekend. I try to go to the gym every day, though it usually ends up being 3 days a week. I have been trying to attend Tuesday night Pilates class. And really, I want to look good in my bathing suit. I mean, I'm certainly not huge, and I'd probably look fine, but I don't want overhang - that roll (or two) that "overhangs" your belt or waistline. Backfat, the spare tire, the love handles. I have a good 6 inches total around my waist/hips I'd like to lose. I know & accept that I'll most likely never be 110 lbs like I was in college again. Probably not even 115. MIGHT make 120 if I bust my ass. But I'll be happy with 125, considering right now I'm pushing 140. It just sucks that food tastes good, that my thyroid is underactive (hence CONSTANT hunger & slow metabolism), that my schedule & my husband's schedule makes it damn near impossible to hit the gym every single day for an hour, and that my pants constantly pinch the shit out of me all day long. But this year, I'm gonna do it. It's going to happen. In fact, I have a pair of size 6 jeans I bought a month ago I've never worn. I bought them thinking, "Ok, so I wear a 6 now. A perfectly acceptable and beautiful size." Then got home, and ....could not get them past my hips. Bastards!! So, in my closet they'll stay, taunting me & pushing me to lose a little more so that one day, I might wear them & look super cute.
One day.