All I have to say is this. Try accepting a Woman of the Year award in front of 2,000 people on a stage drowned in spotlight in a completely see-through dress while having no idea until you see magazine and newpaper photos the next day.

I’m known as the Naked Woman of the Year.

Judy
Kansas City, MO

HELLO! Lauren here! Fresh off from a weekend of over-indulging in everything from lard to vodka and using St. Patrick’s day as an excuse, Heather and I feel that this week’s topic is perfect for the occasion.

Since the invention of the telephone, it has long been a struggle with the male population to receive consistent and sincere phone calls before 1am. Us ladies don’t often get called, BUT our BOOTY does. That damn booty, it gets called all the time. The boys love it.

Ladies, I really mean this when I say it.. this is a hard one to write. Excuse me, while I grab my gallon of ice cream and bag of corn chips for a sweet/salty combo. Okay, I’m going for it:

It was my birthday party. I had been dating this one guy who was totally done with me as told by my gut feeling as well as by other various red flags. But, he showed up, acting distant and weird. Of course, as I continued to drink, I expressed this to some of my girlfriends at the party.

Let’s rewind for just a second. My girlfriend, who was advocate of getting rid of my current guy, informed me that she was bringing me a birthday present in the form of a hot man that happened to be her brother. Whatever, females always think their siblings are more attractive than they are.

Okay, jumping back to the story – while I felt sorry for myself and gossiped about Boy #1 to some of my friends, in walks my girlfriend who grabs me, says “Happy Birthday,” then thrusts me toward a 6’4″ Greek God structure that made form into a human being. God help me. This guy was beautiful and for the time being, my breaking heart was cured, but as I circulated and drank more throughout the party, I fell back into the typical girl loves boy who doesn’t give a crap about her mentality. Boy #1 left with my heart in his hand and as people left – I found my way home.. ALONE.

I was actually pretty sober. I got home, put on my pink flamingo Christmas pj’s (picture matching pants and shirt adored with pink flamingos perched next to little trailer homes covered in Christmas lights) I had gotten that year (It is Taylor Tradition that we receive themed pj’s for each holiday even though two of us are in our 30′s), took off my makeup and began to eat ice cream. Half of my mascara had melted down my face during the washing, but I didn’t care – it was just me.

I shortly got a call from my two girlfriends, one of which who had the hot brother. They informed me that he had been asking about me and wanted to see me. I immediately said no. They then informed me that they had sent him in a cab over to my place and he should be there any minute. CRAP!! Okay, don’t panic, door man will call you. You have time to throw on some makeup and put on cute sweats. Knock, knock, knock. The damn doorman let this guy through! Well, he was mesmerizing so I could understand why. High five to me.

I stood there, walked to the door in horror, opened it and said, “You’re from FL, right? I have on flamingo pajamas – Tis the season?” He immediately started laughing while I buried my face in my hands. He then went on, “I take it you’ve been eating ice cream?” When I looked in the mirror, I discovered cookie dough ice cream all around my mouth which had then dripped down the front of me. But, he stayed.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!

Ladies, let’s talk about great ideas. Mary Kay had a great idea to sell a face cream that exploded into a whole cosmetics line and Fortune 500 company. Raquel Welch had a great idea when she uprooted her two kids with only $500 dollars to her name and fled to LA to become a huge star. Ruth Wakefield had a hell of an idea when she put chocolate chunks in cookie dough in 1930 which is now known as Chocolate Chip Cookies or Lauren’s Greatest Downfall. But, sometimes we ladies don’t have the greatest of ideas, they just feel so warm and fuzzy at the time that we go for it.

Speaking of fuzzy and not-so-great ideas, I recently had two of my girlfriends, Tricia and Sara, over for a laid-back dinner. We all agreed that we needed to be in bed early with a two-glass wine max. Done and done. WHATEVER!!! I would like to amend the phrase “two-glass” to “two-bottle” well, almost, not quite that much.

Anyhow, here we are wined-up and Tricia (who is a Bikram Yoga Godess and former gymnast) brings up the 80′s break-dancing move, The Worm, wondering if she could still do it. All of sudden, she’s on the ground throwing herself into perfect “worm” motion then coaxing us to do the same. First of all, I think I’ve attempted the worm once in college and I sucked then, but, now at 32, as I’ve matured, my worm must have, right? Are you freakin crunchy!!? It looked more like I was jump-humping the ground than doing the worm. I heard cracks and pops all over my body and I think I broke a rib.  I just laid on the ground for 5 minutes after doing it while Tricia did another one over me. Last, Sara decided to give it a shot. This girl snowboards, kiteboards, ironing boards, bread boards, whatever board is around – she’s going to rock it out and look hot doing it. Sara has never even attempted the worm so the picture below is as far as she got which is nowhere, but I say A for effort because she popped right up as I was still on the ground dialing an ambulance.

My point? It was a fun bonding moment for us and then I woke up in the morning and wanted to skinny-girl-slap Tricia for the idea! I didn’t call or email either of them asking if they were sore because if their answer would have been “no” (which I bet my fondue set that it would’ve been) then I’m pretty sure our friendships would’ve ended… out of jealousy.. on their parts….of course.

So ladies… if you haven’t done those splits in 10 years… don’t try them.. especially if you’re surrounded by girlfriends who are in much better shape than you!!

Trica owning The Worm

Me. It looks like my form is okay, but my legs flopped right after this was taken.

Like I said, it was Sara's first attempt. I don't feel sorry for her, though, she has 6-pack abs.

The guy on the left. I cyber-stalked him: http://www.ufc.com/JonJones

I’m about to brag. At the end of this you will wonder why I even thought this was braggable material, but come on!! Throw me a bone!! It’s always nice to get hit-on or complimented, even if it’s by construction workers who are shouting crude obscenities in Spanish or homeless men offering to “tap that ass,” in exchange for liquor. Regardless, any type of compliment makes you feel a tinge better about yourself and after feeling like a beached whale in a bikini for 7 days, I really needed a boost. This guy was hot though AND a UFC Fighter. WHOOP WHOOP!

I was in line at Bojangle’s (yes, I said Bojangle’s, home of crispy fried-chicken goodness) in the Charlotte airport. I had a layover from Destin, FL to Chicago and was grabbing food before I hopped on my last flight. A 6’4″, buffed out, good-looking African American guy was one person in front of me. He was talking to another buffed-out guy who was shouting his order while he walked to the seating area to score a table. Buff guy #1 had to turn and look at Buff guy #2 so I saw him catch a glimpse at me. I had freakin tan lines streaking across my chest and face, along with ratted hair from sleeping on the first flight so I was sure he was not impressed with what he saw as he turned back immediately. After we both ordered (and the girls at the register drooled over him, hitting eachother on the arms, “Girrlll, I almost forgot how to type, that man is FIINE!!”), we were waiting for our food at the end of the counter. Then he spoke:

Big Buff Guy: How are you today?

ME: Great. And you?

Big Buff Guy: Your travels good?

ME: Yes. And yours?

Big Buff Guy: Good. I just got back from Vegas.

ME: Ohh nooo, GUYS TRIP! WOOHOO! Lauren! Control yourself! Did you have a good time?

Big Buff Guy: Yeah. It was actually awesome. I’m a UFC fighter and had a match there this weekend.

ME: NO WAY!! I freakin love UFC. I read that Brock Lesnar acted a fool after he beat Frank Mir. Somebody put him back in the WFF for goodness sakes. Did you win?

Big Buff Guy: Yeah. I did.

ME: Congratulations!! What class?

Big Buff Guy: Light Heavy Weight.  He could’ve said the other way around – I don’t remember.

ME: That’s quite an accomplishment. Great job. turned around and stared at the counter. silent pause

Big Buff Guy: Where did you go?

ME: Oh.. family vacation in Destin, FL.

Big Buff Guy: Was is fun visiting with your family? You got some sun.

ME: Yeah. I too had a fight this weekend, with the sun, and it kicked my ass.  laughter That guy that was with you – he’s pretty ripped as well. Is he a fighter.

Big Buff Guy: No. He’s my kick-boxing trainer. Are you coming over to this area or do you have to catch your plane?

ME: Catch my plane.  Food came and my bag was bigger than his! Remember - he ordered for two people! Buff people!  Wow. I have more food than you – I don’t feel like an idiot. Well, congratulations again. It was nice talking to you.

Big Buff Guy: You too.  His trainer yells for him to come over. He walks off. Stops like he’s about to say something else. Then walks off again.

I told you. Stupid. I’m not completely confident that he was flirting, but it was still a boost. I have a long-time boyfriend so flirting is fuel for about 5 mos, HELL - flirting from a UFC fighter – one that wins – is fuel for a year. So when Rob asks me why I’m wearing what I’m wearing.. I’m good.

Anyhow. I totally Internet stalked this guy. His name is Jon Jones and is an up-and-coming fighter. BAM!! Now back to real life….

WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN WITH THIS CHALLENGE, you ask? Simply put.. with my head up my not-shrinking, but not growing ASS! So I’m 149lbs. I haven’t lost a pound in two weeks, but haven’t gained. I see no victory here. I want to kick my own ass! I actually tried, but I’m lying on the ground right now from a thrown-out back.  It’s a little hard to kick your own ass. I can give myself mouth-to-mouth, but self-ass-kicking is a whole new ball game. I’m thinking 3 weeks of Bikram Yoga might help my cause. OKAY, OKAY, OOOKAY!!!!! I’m stalling…

You haven’t heard from me in two weeks regarding this challenging because it pained me to put down “NO WEIGHT LOST,” when I should be 142lbs right now if I had been eating right and exercising consistently – I haven’t. Last week, I really cranked-up the running because of stress and lack of time to weight train. I also cranked-up my gallons of ice cream intake – But it’s Soy ice cream and lower in fat and calories – Lauren!! You can’t throw shit on my back and call it mud, ICE CREAM IS FREAKIN ICE CREAM!! So it slowed the spillin’ of your muffin? BIG DEAL! You’re stuck!

Here is it, ladies. We all need a cheering section. I need a little nudge. This happens when we’re on our way to Jessica Alba’s body, we get in a little rut and us ladies PULL each other out. Suggestions? Encouragement? Put it in my little Vent Box below labeled “Comments.” Remember – this blog is all about NOT being alone, whether you’re falling off the weight-loss wagon or you’re on “The Biggest Loser” right now losing 40 lbs in one week – someone’s doing it too. I happen to be in the category mentioned at the beginning of the sentence. Jennifer Garner… give me your discipline and 4 trainers.. money… husband.. fame…. trainers.. perky boobs.

Here’s my plan to jump back on the Fab Body Tracks. I’m going to my college Homecoming game, Saturday, October 30. That gives me 5 weeks. MY GOAL by that date: 138lbs. Shake a leg - I can do this!! I want everyone to say, “Wow! Is that Lauren Taylor? Last time I saw her, she was in an oversized flannel shirt with a Jennifer Aniston shag-gone-wrong, doing a keg stand. WOW! I didn’t know she had a neck!

Workout plan:

Tues – 1 hr cardio/ Wed – 30 min cardio & 1 hr Shape circuit from Sept. issue/ Thur – 1 hr cardio/ Fri – 30 min cardio &  1 hr Shape circuit/ Sat - 60 min Spin Class/ Sun – 45min Spin class – 1 hr Shape circuit

Adjustments to Food this week:

1) Fruit/veggies in every meal. 2) Nothing fried.  3)LAY OFF THE WINE!!!  4)Only 1 cup of ice cream twice a week.

5) Breakfast every morning.

Cheerleaders – a little noise please? I’m picking myself off the floor here. Anyone wanting to join me – PLEASE DO!!

SORRY FOR THE POSTING HIATUS! I let life give me a swift kick and win. If blogging for you ladies is my happy place, you can imagine which side of Oz I’ve been visiting for the last week. BUT I’M BACK! I BOUNCE! Now… Shape Challenge time!

Could you ladies, excuse us for a second? I need to have a private conversation with my Ass and Scale. It’ll just take a second. Thanks.

Me – Okay you two, this is ridiculous. You’re barely talking. Scale, you can’t keep snubbing Ass. What’s going on?

Ass – Yeah, Scale. Why you frontin’ yo? I been all up in the crib sweatin’ and shit. Burnin’ up the sidewalk tryin’ to lose some LB’s. Show me some love, Brutha. (Did I mention that I have a Ghetto Ass?)

Scale – I’m feeling very used. Ass uses me everyday and always wants something from me. I can’t give happiness everyday! I can’t! Sometimes I’m going to have a bad day and give you a number you don’t like. I don’t need to be kicked around if I don’t tell you what you want to hear!! I need love to! LOVE me!! Except me!!! THE PRESSURE!!!!

Me – Okay, okay, calm down Scale. If you break down, well, then I’ll just lean on Betty Crocker and we don’t want that.  Let’s all compromise. Scale, moving forward, Ass and I promise to accept what you have to say no matter if you’re acting like a Bitch. We just have to remind ourselves that no matter how hard we’re working or dieting, sometimes we’re not going to have a big number. But, Ass, seriously, I think you could workout harder and although it’s Soy Ice-cream – it’s still going to leach onto you if you eat a half gallon of it.

Ass – Wha??? Yo, check it… I’ve been all up in the treadmill. Don’t even come up in here and tell me I ain’t doin’ my shit. I’m gonna show you who needs to work harder. Don’t front like that, bitch, SHIIITTT.

Me – Fine! Can we all agree to get along? Scale, can you be a little nicer next week?

Scale – Agreed.

Ass – I can fly wit it

Me – Great. Who’s up for a smoothie?

I’m glad you guys could join us for that ABC Family moment… although there was a character named “Ass” and she spoke ghetto, but at the end, we all learned a valuable lesson and learned to agree. I think I just puked a little. 

Anywho….So since I’m cramming in 2 weeks – let me give a little run down …

Week 11 – I worked the gym like a belle in a brothel and I tell ya… 1 lb down!! I was wishing for more as I wanted to get to 145lb, but no dice. It reminded me of one of those moments from “The Biggest Loser,” when one of the contestants only lost 1lb and although you’ve watched them get the bejesus kicked out of them all week, you still secretly think, “He/She didn’t work hard enough.” So.. I thought I could’ve worked harder.

Week 12 – complete, total, f”in slack ass. High five, Kirstie Alley, we’re riding the chunky train together. I worked out once, drank wine twice (and I’m not talkin’ one glass) and ate a burger with fries on Tuesday. My place is being renovated so I’ve been using it as an excuse all week. But, guess what, I still lost 1lb. WTF????? I mean – WHAT??

So, Erica has jumped back on the challenge, HARD, here’s the summary:

Erica – Week 12 – 2.5 lbs – Total Weight lost – 10lbs

Lauren – Week 12 – 1lbs – Total Weight lost – 14lbs – 146 lbs.

Girl you’re not alone, if you battle with discipline EVERYDAY!! I watch some of my girlfriends get up everyday at 5am and Jillian Michaels the gym. They’re the girls that sit Indian-style in bikinis with no fat rolls. Meanwhile, my kind, is almost in back-bend position to keep their stomachs somewhat flat!

So… I’m just going to tackle the week the best I can. Scale and Ass have made amends – let just see if Scale holds up her side!!! AND AAAWAAY WE GO!!!

Bad picture of me from neck up. But, I finally fit into my girlfriend's dress I've been dying to borrow! Her little girl, Emily, decided to try a dress on as well, hence her pj pants and slippers underneath.

Weight loss feels like watching a Channing Tatum movie and eating buttery soaked popcorn.

I didn’t lose a pound this week. NOPE! Not a pound. Maybe an ounce, but I don’t count those until they equate to a pound. Did I workout? HELL TO THE YES!! Did I eat healthy? HELL TO THE YES!! Did I drink? HELL TO THE NO! Did I eat way too many healthy carbs versus my veggie/protein intake? HELL TO THE YES!!

So, there you have it. When you don’t balance out your food, the Diet Fairy bops you on the head with her cute little bitch stick. She flies in with her blue flowing dress (like the Good Witch Linda from Oz), smiling, birds singing, the sun shinning and you remember her approaching you then you awake with a HUGE knot your head, on the ground with a note attached to your forehead saying, “Don’t forgot to balance your food choices or you won’t lose any weight.” It did happen that way!! Hasn’t the Diet Fairy ever visited you? I think I might be going crazy…. it’s carb overload and lack of wine… I mean fruit.

SO.. we now know what I need to fix next week. All I’ve got to say is 145lbs feels likes buttery popcorn during a Channing Tatum movie. HOT! Dear goodness, I wonder what 130lbs will feel like. Mama, hold me back!! 130lbs – hold on baby, I’m coming!!

Oh, my BFF SHAPE came and visited me this week. Jenna Fischer was on the cover rockin’ a fit, HEALTHY, REAL body. It was very refreshing. I will try out her workout tonight. Also, there’s a recipe for Corn Chowder that’s only 178 calories per 2 cups that I can’t wait to try. I love soup in the fall!! It’s not online so maybe I’ll try it, if I like it and don’t feel like all the bliss left with the butter… I’ll post it.

Happy weight loss, gals. KEEP going!! No matter what the scale says.. a new week is a new goal. WOOHOO!!

Shay from "The Biggest Loser."

I know I’m almost a week late with this one, but, you know I’m slow!! Okay – VENTING time!! Who watches “The Biggest Loser?” Last week, those selfish people voted off the largest PERSON to ever be on the show. They voted off the person who’s life is most threatened by obesity and needed to be there for the medical and physical support. The girl they kept on, Amanda, was HALF Shay’s size. HALF!!! I’m sweating from anger… and the fact that it’s 100 degrees in here, but mostly, from ANGER!

HOWEVER, Shay is what my blog is about. Women who fall and rebound with grace, dignity and humor. She was 476lbs when she started the show, they sent her home at 376lbs and she lost an additional 38 lbs in a little over a month. She now weighs 338lbs! She told everyone to suck it. She was hopeless.. but she fought through it and LOOK AT HER NOW!! She has so much more to go though, which is why I get so pissed when I think about it!! Click on her name below and watch her video. We can always bounce, my lovely ladies! YES WE CAN! President Obama – I did not steal that from you.. you stole it from my journal entry from 1995. I am so brilliant that President Obama had his people read through my journal for speech inspiration. There are cures to diseases in that journal and also confessions about having an ongoing crush on Mark Hamill. What is wrong with me? WATCH SHAY!!

Shay

I had drinks with my girlfriend, Leslie, last night who is a talented, accomplished writer:

http://lrdiaries.com/

She always has interesting things to say while I crack a joke and hope it counts for insight. You read my blog… you’re aware of this insight.. not so interesting.. laughable.. but not new information that adds depth to one’s life. Well, not true, I taught my friend’s 4 year-old how to do the Badonkadonk and she now has the best booty shake in her tot ballet class. I would say that accounts for something. Anyhow, after a couple glasses of Sangria, Leslie was knocked down to my level (well, close to it), thank goodness, and I guess it carried into her dreams. This is the email she sent me this morning:

Perhaps I was splattering Corky's BBQ Sauce - it's my favorite.

I dreamt that you and I went home together to meet my parents in the house I grew up in. You got really tired and wanted to take a nap on the couch so I left you alone and went to talk with my mom and dad in the kitchen. Then we heard a loud bang. I walked back into the family room and you were gone and we all were scared and freaking out and then we found you in the foyer, next to a knocked-over statue with BBQ sauce splattered all over. You had been sleepwalking, then you woke up and got really scared b/c you thought the BBQ sauce was blood and we had to calm you down. I was yelling, “It’s just barbecue sauce, Lauren! You’re OK!”  I have ZERO idea what the hell this means.

I laughed so hard when I read this , I lost 3lbs. I went on every dream interpretation website Google could muster with no luck of a dream explanation. I think I drugged her Sangria and forgot about it. I searched deep down at one point and thought maybe the BBQ sauce had something to do with the fact I’m from Memphis and we’re known for our BBQ. That’s what I get for thinking too hard. I actually think it’s her subconscious warning her of what a train wreck I am.

Anyone have crazy dreams they want to share? Spill it.

Ladies, ladies, ladies. I’m sure you’re wondering about my Shape Challenge results for week 17..  You can find them with my roots – HIDDEN!  Okay.. okay… I actually don’t have anything to report in Week 17 – I’m still 148lb which means I didn’t gain anything. THE TURKEY DIDN’T WIN!!! But, it didn’t lose either. The Biggest Loser contestants lose my ideal weight in two weeks. I’m on Week 17 with no reason why I haven’t progressed more.  Slap.. ouch… Slap… ouch.. back on the horse I go!

ALSO – I’m a little disappointed with my lack of focus and diligence to blogging lately! I’m back though – this is my Zen! Girl, you’re not alone if you let chaos win. I have definitely done that lately. I’m a fire hydrant and Tiger Woods’ car is chaos – it has run me over.  But, like the hydrant, I’ll be put back together, refilled with water and sit upright with a red face again. I do feel bloated and have gone a little overboard with blush lately so I think a fire hydrant is an appropriate metaphor.

Anyhow, I had a reader, Ellen, that sent me a little email. Ellen, you’re straight and to the point – I needed that. Thank you. Your words are like warm pudding after a fried chicken dinner:

Hi Lauren. I’ve noticed you haven’t blogged very much lately. I’m assuming that you must be under stress or that your job is hectic. Maybe personal problems are holding you back. There could be so many reasons. I can understand as I was an Executive Assistant for 12 years. My boss had me on call at all times. I hated my job, but loved the money. As my sister says, it was my crack. I also loved making jewelry which was my true happiness. True happiness is healthy. It’s how you’re suppose to live. For 5 years, I would make jewelry when I could, give it for presents and my girlfriends raved about it. They always pushed me to start my own business. I always had intentions to do what I loved, but I always put it on the back burner because my job took up so much of my time. Three years ago, I decided I was going to give my jewelry a plunge. I left at 5pm, and dedicated every extra second to my jewelry. I now have a jewelry line which is my full time job. It’s in 5 major department stores, online and in boutiques across the South.  I’m not bragging.  I’m just telling you that once I kept doing what I loved all the time.. my life was full of joy I never knew I could have. I like your writing. You make me laugh every time I read your blog. You write like you love it so my suggestion is to do it full time. It really is that easy once you decide and dedicate. I hope you do. I’d like to read more from you.

There you have it… you want it.. do it. Ellen, I think you’ve got something here. I would like a photo of you so I can silk-screen it on a t-shirt. You’re my inspiration.

At this very moment, I smell like a man. Not the musky, sweaty, hold-my-breath type man, but the sophisticated, sexy, I-drink-scotch type man. I’m wearing cologne… by accident.. and it’s a little weird. Katie Perry’s song, ”I Kissed a Girl,” is screaming in my head. It’s the cologne playing mind games with me. I think it has testosterone chemically laced in the fragrance because the smell makes you feel masculine.

I got the Sephora “Look Book” catalog in my office mailbox today. It’s a huge, upscale cosmetics store and I often forget they carry men’s cologne and skin products. I’m “that girl” who takes advantage of every perfume, shampoo or lotion sample that’s affixed within a magazine ad (I’ve got rash scares on my wrist as a result of over-sampling various chemicals at once.) As I flipped through the catalog, I came upon what looked like a perfume sample from Yves Saint Laurent. The ad wasn’t masculine in the least bit as it only pictured the bottle design.  I love the brand so why not give it a whirl? I peeled back the little flap of paper securing the sent sample… hmmm.. very light scent.. it goes well with coffee… this will be my aroma today. I then rubbed the cologne infused paper on both wrists, my neck, side of neck, half my face, fore arms, top of fingers … pretty much any open area until the paper started to chafe my skin.

I felt fresh. Something about a new scent can really put a pep in your step. It took about five minutes for me to realize that I smelled good, but different. It was very strong…. sort-of like one of my coworkers.. who is male. Crap. I grabbed the catalog and read the top of the advertisement/sample: L’Homme Yves Saint Laurent for Men. Crap again. When did the “for men,” part jump in there? Oh well, I sometimes wear my boyfriend’s deodorant, I can swing cologne. At least the smell is appealing. I would jump a guy if he wore this. Buy Rob this cologne.

Remember, I rubbed every ounce of the sample on my body so the fragrance was very potent hence the fact I got a few comments:

“Did you just hug a guy?” …  “It smells like my husband in here” ……. “Guys were too much cologne, it lingers when they leave”  ….

My favorite is from a male friend that also works in my building “Lauren… you sort-of smell like a dude.. not in a bad way, but it’s weird.. is Rob in town?”

So… my whole staying under the cologne radar did not happen. I did love the smell so I googled it. Hey, if I like it on me, I’m sure I’ll like it on my boyfriend. I consider it my test run for him. Here’s the description of the scent as written by the experts of Yves Saint Laurent:

L’Homme Yves Saint Laurent is the force of attraction of a man with style and sensuality. He has the inner ability to attract and inspire people thanks to his charisma. His universe is the city, where he can express his creative energy and live by his own rules.

Ladies, today, I was that man. Excuse me while I exfoliate with lavender, sea salt and a pink loofah.

Karin…. you are right, my weight losing friend, I have been slacking!! Let’s go a step further… there was a wagon I was riding and I believe  it’s no longer in site. Ladies and ladies… I didn’t fall off the wagon… I jumped off face first into a river of Christmas cookies and kept swimming. One hamburger, two hamburger, three hamburger, big ass. That pretty much sums up my last 3 weeks. Here’s the down low:

I am offically 151 lbs. I can’t keep up with what I gained or lost so in my state of unorganization I declare a RESET!! WOOHOO!!

I’m still challenging SHAPE but in a different decade. My goal is to lose 20lbs in 20 weeks. Yeah, hot cakes, I’m talking to you, full sugar. Suck it and like it. By May 20th, I will weigh 130lbs or so help me, I will have a slut night with the Hostess Factory. Move it or lose it. The resolution begins!!

Yes, I’m making a list and exposing you to it. I don’t think I’ve ever made a list of my New Year’s Resolutions. Not even when I was a preteen and writing into my pink polka-dot journal. I was more of an announcer.. I liked my stage. I would interrupt whatever TV show my family was watching (I’m a child of four and my parents were married until I was 28) and announce my resolution for the year:

My resolution for 1992 is to get my driver’s license and drive by myself to Ashley’s.

My resolution for 1993 is to get asked to prom as a Sophomore, roll my hair everyday and have the best split leap on my dance team.

My resolution for 2002 is to not bounce ANY rent checks… and stop eating burritos at 3am…. and lose 30 lbs… and pay my heat and electric bill in the same month.

So… I’m sharing with you my first EVER written resolutions… even though we’re 12 days into 2010.. WHATEVER.. it’s starts when I say it starts! Here’s my list for 2010 (by the way.. I have a make-shift spotlight shining down on me.. I still have to have a stage. Nevermind I have to squat as my spotlight happens to be my desk lamp. My back hurts.) The unveiling:

1) Get your ass up and workout in the morning. C’mon, you can do it. Don’t you want your nights free?

2) Cry tears of JOY, not pity.. JOY, DAMN IT!

3) Don’t harp on 2009.

4) Don’t get your purse stolen, have a flat tire twice, be hospitalized with kidney problems, lose your phone, get in a car accident, have your car broken into, get a boot on your car, lock yourself out of the office. Just don’t relive 2009. Refer to #3 as well.

5) Use a lint brush for goodness sakes!

6) Don’t do your makeup and halfway through decide you’re too tired to finish the smokey-eye look. You can’t truly rockout one color of silver eye shadow all the way to your eyebrows.. that died in the 80′s.. you know…when you were 8 and not allowed to wear make-up.

7) Call my mother and my sister.. LESS. I stalk them. It’s a bit unhealthy. It makes my mother worry.. she tells me this all the time. My sister just gets annoyed.

WRITE!!!!!!!!! WRITE!! WRITE!!!

9) Hunt some bitches down and get more empowering stories from wonderful women.

10) Laugh as loud as you want and don’t apologize for it.

11) Learn that “Thank you” is enough.

12) Your boobs will never be back to your chest without 5 g’s  and a damn good surgeon so suck it up and deal.

13) Google why wine is good for you. MEMORIZE IT and preach it.

14) Try to wear sexier pj’s for your boyfriend. He’s lying when he says he doesn’t mind your Christmas-themed flannels year round.

I could go on… but I think that will do. I may change it a THOUSAND times. But, it feels good for now.

Cheers… to embracing what embarrasses us and giving it a little chuckle.

All of our girlfriends bring out a certain something in each of us. My girlfriend, Tara, is the one that helps me trek back to the days I danced in front of the TV alongside Doris Day and the teenage moments I prayed that Donnie from New Kids on the Block would someday find and marry me. You need that girlfriend who joins in your need to keep those adolescent, but very precious memories alive. Tara sent me this email and it’s one of the best I received. See below:

I am writing this for you – share if you wish, but it’s really the reason I think you and I are such great friends. We’re both old souls, romantics, forever followers of our teen idols and, clearly, still a little crazy.

2009 was a hell of a year. Running a business while the economy is crumbling around you is not only terrifying, but is pretty much responsible for 90% of the new gray hairs I have acquired over the year. However, in spite of the turmoil, stress and sleepless nights, it has also given clarity to another thing in my life I hadn’t realized I was missing. When I was 14, I thought life was hard. Sustaining friendships, crushing on boys, keeping up with the trends, all the while my body was out of control, seemed just about the end of the world. The reality was that nothing felt right or normal.  My family was crazy and complicated, but also understanding the new social order that I had entered was really difficult. It also didn’t help that I felt completely awkward phsyically and emotionally. It didn’t seem that anyone could explain or understand what really was going on with me.

For me, there was only one saving grace throughout all of this madness; New Kids on the Block. It may sound odd, but they pretty much got me through all of the rough teenage years. That stark raving madness that overcomes you when you see the boy of your dreams, who can’t turn you down, and your imagination runs wild. (as wild as imaginations run at 14) where life fulfillment was marrying Joe McIntyre and my best friend at the time would be Mrs. Jordan Knight. Wow that was the dream! Of course instead, I moved away, had to change high schools when I was 15, went to college, met the man who eventually became my husband, went to grad school, started my own business, and 30.

Tara at NKOTB Reunion Concert in Chicago

Now maybe your blog is not the place to rehash my teenage obsessions, but then again, maybe it is just that place. Writing this in the 20th year anniversary of my 14th birthday seems completely apt. Not only because it coincided with the biggest failure in our generations economic history, but because somehow I actually made it through that in spite of it.

I have come to realize that at fourteen, life was truly simple, despite how it felt at the time. I had plenty of non-taxed disposable income from my many baby-sitting gigs, no bills to pay, no career to consider, only the future ahead of me glittering with possibility. Perhaps the realizations then, when the most important things in my life were the release of the new issues of Teen Beat and BOP magazines, truly set the path for what I’ve become. Part of myself had left a gap I hadn’t realized was there, and at the same time, maybe it wasn’t gone, just hiding waiting for the trigger that would propel me into a relapse of my former self. From here, I’ve decided that in my future happiness depends on keeping that girl around and not to lose her again. She is the part of me that finds the crazy fun in life and relishes every minute, who allows me to giggle, scream, cry and yell without any fear of shame. It’s also the part of me that makes it easier to survive moments that seem too terrible to see the light at the end. My advice to every woman is never lose that girl, keep her inside, don’t let her take over, but let her guide that fun-loving impulsive part of your brain that too often can be overshadowed by commitments and obligations. Now that I’ve rediscovered her, I won’t be letting her out of my sight!

The demands of women our age seldom leave the opportunity for frivolity. Marriage, kids, work, bills, family, all demand our time, attention and commitment. We find ourselves worrying about everything, letting the world drag us along without consulting us first, whirling by until we realize too late that we have missed the best parts or not gotten the most out of them. I have found this new perspective has given me a chance to step back and enjoy every minute I can. Snap up every possibility to do things I truly love with people I truly love, without guilt or regret. I say let yourself find that girl every now and then, spend a night on the town and just be 14 again.

I knew that there was a reason we had become friends, but what I know now is that the 14 year old inside of me found her soulmate. As a longtime New Kids Fan, who’s second biggest obsession was Judy Garland, Gene Kelly and MGM musicals, who was constantly ridiculed for being completely uncool, I have met someone who not only accepts me for the crazy musical loving teenager, but truly embraces that part of me. Someone who understands, so far without exception, the really bizarre world inside of my head. I always felt the need to defend myself, but now I hold close all of the things that set me apart and made me different – without them I wouldn’t be who I am today or who I’ll become tomorrow.

XOXO,
Tara

I’m behind with my posts!!!! Karin – thank you for the swift kick to get back on track.. I have a bruise…. but I’m very apprectitive… can someone hand me some ice?

I got slightly off track in Week 4 . The culprit? I do believe actions speak louder than words. UNVEIL EXHIBIT A! Just pretend that I have the Price is Right girls bringing out a 3′x3′ glossy of the below:

BEHOLD! My Week 4 Bitch Slapper!

Part of me got mixed up with the wrong crowd… my ass. I mean, I’ve been trying to teach those little love humps to make better judgements, but they bonded with chicken and waffles with all it’s glamour and greasiness and BAM did the C&W dump some baggage! I had to destroy the clique!!  I’m happy to say, that, after intense therapy at the Bar Method and on the treadmill….. my little toosh has broken apart from her short lived besties. I brought back the power in Week 5. BRING OUT THE CHART!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

I’m on track, but my impatient side wants to shed this weight NOW!!! I want to be 130 RIGHT FREAKIN’ NOW!! I WANT IT NOW, DADDY!!!!  I’m channeling Veruca Salt:

But, slow and steady wins the race!! Whatev..

I’m trying a yummy recipe this weekend from SHAPE so I won’t make mad love to chicken and waffles again: It’s called Chicken Pot Au Feu.

Fellow GYNA dieters – let’s do this!!! AND AWAY WE GO!!!!

Girls have gas. We’re not suppose to along with various other things we’re not suppose to have/do that are A-OKAY for men.  But, news flash, we have it.  We, like men, also have moments where gas escapes our bodies (specifically from the trunk, not the hood) when it’s entirely inappropriate. The difference is that these moments make us ladies want to jump out the window or revert to a closet or lay on the ground face first until everyone around you goes away.  By the way, they don’t go away… they just stare at you and make fun … I’ve tried this technique.  I recommend the closet.

I got the email below from my girlfriend last week. WARNING! YOU MAY LAUGH UNTIL YOU CAN’T BREATHE:

I want to die. I finally had the guts to ask my boss for a raise. I was so nervous my stomach was turning. The good news: he told me he would run it by our VP and thinks it could happen as of March 1. The bad news: I released my butt cheeks in relief and FARTED!!!!!!!!! It was loud.  You should have seen his face. I was shocked!! I didn’t know what to say so I just left. I’m now leaving work early and getting drunk. It’s partly to celebrate and partly for liquid courage to face my boss again. Let me know if you’re in.

My dear friend and author Leslie Goldman sent me a precious gift by way of a press release she received. Why is a press release a gift you ask? Ohh….because it’s from a singing Gynecologist. Yep, an OBGYN that writes jingles. Leslie sent me a diamond in the rough, a man specializing in vaginas and music.  He also writes children’s songs for things like brushing teeth and sneezing… then he writes vagina songs… I wonder if he keeps a guitar at work in case there’s a patient that ignites inspiration and he needs to compose immediately? He’s even up with slag – referring to our lady parts as a “vagaigai” in the song. It’s a catchy little tune that makes me want to jump in and sing along…about an itchy vagina. I guess it’s not much different than belting out, “My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, and they’re life is better than yours, damn right, it’s better than yours, I’d teach you, but I’d have to charge. Lala…la.la..la.”  I wonder if Kelis is a doctor too? I think we need to call in Snoop Dog to shake it up. Please, enjoy education… on your vagaigai:

Subject: Restore pH and stay BV free

Dr. Mache Seibel, a professor at the University of Massachusetts Medical School and founder of HealthRock, has a new song to help women understand that there’s a pH connection to vaginal infection. Menstrual fluids make the pH high, so the balance that protects you becomes one that infects you—abnormal pH is the reason why. The attached BV song explains in greater detail…..

Guess what girls
You could have bacterial vaginosis

If your vagaigai makes you itch at night
With an odor that’s not right
You might think yeast is what it must be
But 2 out of 3 times you’re wrong – you’ve got BV

BV is Bacterial Vaginosis
Unbalanced pH caused the diagnosis
Restore the balance and you will be
Refreshed and stay, BV free
Restore pH and stay BV free

The pH of a healthy vagina is typically 3.5 to 4.5. Blood, for example, has a pH of 7.4. So during menstruation, vaginal pH can become elevated. Tampons contribute to the elevated pH because they retain the fluids that cause pH to increase. Many women who suffer from recurrent infections find that their period is often the event that sets them in motion.  The overgrowth of bacteria that occurs with pH imbalance can cause an unpleasant odor and itch. It is critical to use a tampon with the minimum absorbency required and change it at least every 4 to 8 hours to keep the pH balanced to its optimum 4.3 and keep unwanted or pathogenic bacteria from overpopulating.

Please let me know if you would like to speak with Dr. Seibel

Courtney Ray

I just took this. Look at the difference in my face!! I have a chin!

I'm on the left. This was the week before I started my Challenge.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Karin! I know!!! I know!! Thank you – again, my tushie is sore for the kick to post my results, HOWEVER… thank you brother, may I have another? I need a kick. I’m thankful.

I had a good Week 7. Down a lb…. Whoop, Whoop! I’m in the middle of Week 8 though. I have not been very consistent with my weight postings. There’s so many factors… disorganization plays a huge factor.. and also my chaotic schedule.. but DAMMNNNN, the weight is still coming off and I do not miss a workout. I still have a huge crush on The Bar Method. Every instructor there has a butt you can bounce a coin off of, not to mention rock hard abs. Their body parts are motivating me. I’m a little worried, though, that they may think I’m in the lesbian way. I stare at their butt and abs when I feel like my legs are going to burn off…. which is pretty much the majority of class. I only stare for inspiration as I chant in my head, “Keep going, that could be you. Keep going and ignore the wedgie your yoga pants are giving you.” Oh well, it doesn’t keep me from coming back.  I just got into a size 6 so they may as well be biscuits because I’m gravy and all over them. WHAT am I talking about? Let me pull out the chart before I keep rambling:

I got in a rut with my cardio routine and this article from SHAPE helped me shake it up:

http://www.shape.com/fitness/workouts/cardio/at_home/quick_cardio_results

Happy Week of Thinning, ladies! May your trunk lose its junk.

Side note: If I have to pay someone to hold me down.. I will post Week 8 results on SUNDAY!!!

Girl, you’re not alone when you mean one thing and regurgitate something different exposing your inner idiot. We all know I’m the poster child for this. This past weekend, I went to El Paso, TX to visit my brother, sister-in-law and nephew.  My mother and sister came along as well. God bless my sister and brother who are well versed in Laurenisms and have to translate them.  A couple of examples:

#1

Me: I haven’t JACK-KNIVED a beer since college.

My brother: Lauren, you mean SHOTGUN a beer. JACK KNIFE is a wrestling move.

#2

Me: A lot of people here wear BITCH KICKERS without a shirt on top.

My sister: Lauren, the male white cotton tank tops you’re referring to are called WIFE BEATERS. I have no idea where you got BITCH KICKER. That’s just disturbing.

I was relieved Saturday night, though, when my sister-in-law, Jess, demonstrated similar behavior by saying:

Jess – I have to go to the restroom, can’t we go any faster?

My brother – We’re stuck in traffic. I’m going as fast as I can.

Jess – I know we’re stuck in traffic, I can see, I’m not DEAF!

We were laughing and it took her a few seconds to realize what she said before she joined us. She had a Lauren moment.

It happens. We’re smart females, but sometimes, the wrong thing exits the mouth before the right one has a chance. Bless those who laugh with us and a big middle finger to those who laugh at us. Don’t make me put on my bitch kicker…

If you liked this post.. you’ll love this one:

http://girlyourenotalone.com/2009/06/05/my-milkshake-brings-my-feet-to-my-mouth/

Woohoo!!! I’m back on track with my Shape posts so you don’t have deal with another one until the end of the week. You can actually enjoy other stories not dealing with my weight or ME.

I lost a lb last week. That’s the way, uh huh, uh huh, I like it… uh huh, uh huh.. Take a look at my handy, dandy chart:

I had a long flight Saturday morning giving me a good bit of catch-up time on my February issue of SHAPE. I didn’t realize the Beach Body workouts/eating plans started already so I was pumped. They build on each month giving you a new workout and meal plan. Go grab a magazine!

Karin & Melissa – lay it down! How was your week?

My lovely ladies of the dating world, this is a good read.  After wetting my pants over her numerous stories, I begged my girlfriend to share her misadventures AND SUCCESS from Match.com. We all know the old adage; You have to kiss a lot of frogs.. or as we call them now.. complete dumbasses. We’re in the age of online dating, mostly because it’s hard to find a diamond in the rough at a bar …. oh wait.. that’s how I found my boyfriend. He tried to blow me off three times in a matter of 30 minutes, but because I was determined… and running on vodka power… I wore him down. Ahhh…. the force of love. Most women have more pride than I do so they often rely on online dating services to do the sorting for them. I heard many results.. some are good, some awful, some both and OOHHHH, big papa, did my friend Michelle experience both… see below:

Girl, you’re not alone, if you decided to get a little dating help from Match.com. I just didn’t want to be cruising bars for a man so I thought I’d give internet dating a shot. After communicating on the website for awhile, I finally agreed to date with this one guy.  Upon arriving to our date, it appeared he was 20 minutes late,  but he really wasn’t because he had been circling me for 20 minutes. I didn’t recognize him. I would’ve  never known it was him because he looked nothing like his 12-year old picture; he had gained like 55 pounds and lost most of his hair. Worse, he noticed my deer-in-the-headlights look and immediately voiced that I MUST be disappointed. I kindly told him that wasn’t the case and proceeded with the date. During the BRUNCH date, I watched him pound cocktails while apologizing every other sentence for not being who he said he was. I couldn’t believe how insecure he was! All I can do was plan my exit, hoping it would be swift and painless. I was praying for a nice case of food poisoning!!

I didn’t want to give up because I promised myself I would give online dating a good try, so I went on another Match.com date. This time my date wasn’t 5’9″ like his profile stated….he was 5’6”.   What he didn’t take into account was that I DIDN’T lie on my profile and was truly 5’5″ and wore 3″ heels. It was only when I got off my bar stool that I realized HE LIED and for the first time, I felt like my legs were coming out of my armpits. I was much taller.

But, wait… there’s more. On yet another, Match.com date, I was immediately disappointed because the guy was wearing a suit three sizes too big, which meant he was at some point gianormous and didn’t buy new clothes. Clearly, he too had posted a picture circa chubby Jimmy Osmond years. He ordered the sloppiest hamburger at dinner and talked with his mouth full of food. The grilled onions and greasy cheese were falling from his mouth onto his chin.  Thank goodness he threw his tie over his shoulder so the grease could fall onto his white dress shirt and I could stare at it throughout dinner. I didn’t think it could get worse….then he told me he still lived with his mother and drove a Minivan – his absolute favorite vehicle.  Oh, and by the way, he was in his 40′s.

ANOTHER DATE! This time I went for a “coffee date” that didn’t require food. This guy was the creepy, could-be-a-stalker guy who had gnarly teeth and sat in his car to watch me walk into Starbuck’s where we were to meet for coffee.  When he finally came in, I immediately realized he wasn’t really smiling in any of his profile pictures. Opps. He stared at my chest the entire time. I felt violated and in need a shower!!!

I can’t forget the ex-military guy who ate like Demi Moore in “GI Jane.” I believe I timed him and he cleared his plate in less than 2 minutes.  It was as if he didn’t use a fork to eat, it was more like a shovel.   When he was done, he worked on my meal not because I offered, he just helped himself.  I think I would starve with that guy or go broke because he could never get enough food.  I thought the military taught these boys manners!!

DON’T be scared off by my stories! I actually found my boyfriend on Match! For all you gals sitting on the fence wondering if you should give online dating a try, go for it!  For those that had a bad experience, don’t give up too quickly. You might have to go out with the tubby, little person, who lives with their mother at 40, eats with a shovel and is a creepy stalker BEFORE meeting a good one, but when you do, it makes the experience worth it.  Here’s some advice; guys that contact you with what’s referred to on Match.com as a “wink,” are wimps.  Go out with the guy that has actually taken the time to read your profile and instead of “winking,” sends you an e-mail and mentions something he read in your profile.  That type of initiative usually means he is serious. My boyfriend sent me an email, READ my profile, asked questions in his email and actually posted a recent picture on his profile.

HAPPY MATCHING!

I know what you’re thinking, “She skipped from Week 8 to Week 11, she must have gained weight.”  I don’t blame you. I would think the same thing. HOWEVER, my comeback is this; “No, my little Exercise Angels, I may be a slacker in posting my results, but I’m not slacking when it comes to whipping the gym’s ass!!! WOOHOOO!!!!! Bring it, you big, mean, ugly gym. BRING IT!!!”

You know me.. I get a little carried away. I curse at concrete objects that can’t talk back. That’s actually why I curse at them… I can be bad ass and not slapped back into Wimp Land where most humans and/or animals would put me. I include animals because I’m petrified of cats and I assume the fetal position before they even approach me.  But, when it comes to the inanimate… I am a FREAKIN BAD ASS!!! Yeah.. you stupid wall… say something… do it!!  Yeah, that’s right.. I know you’re scared. See? I have problems. I therapize where I can.

ALSO, I was looking at my posts and most of them are my SHAPE Challenges.  I needed to give you guys a break from that. I was becoming  “that girl” who’s so obssessed with her weight it’s all she talks about. I’m not that girl. I don’t want to be that girl. There’s more to life than that… like screaming at inanimate objects.  Also, I lost 2 lbs last week and I think it’s because I didn’t stress over weight loss. I did everything right as far as exercise and food so my attitude was I either lost it or I didn’t. I didn’t talk about how much I working out. I didn’t go to dinner like I usually do and make a big scene about eating healthy and announcing I’m on the SHAPEChallenge.  I think the fact my boyfriend is doing that right now – telling me every single time he works out and what he ate at every meal -  and is annoying the mother freakin hell out of me, helps me zip it quickly. Shutup and do. That’s a good motto. But, I’m a blogger so I prefer.. shutup and write.

Let’s take a looksy at my little chart:

I have 10lbs and 9 weeks to go. I’m a little behind my goal, but I think I can catch up.

I can’t afford The Bar Method any longer. Once you get into regular membership, the unlimited packages are a little steep. I’m going to by the DVD though and do the classes at home. I have been doing the Bikini Body Workout from SHAPE. I love it. They build on the workout each month and make it harder.

I’ve slacked this week with packing my lunches. I’ve been taking the quick route and making bad choices – like getting a full-on sandwich. Two pieces of fat bread that ooze meat, cheese and mayo. I need to get back into the lunch routine – QUICKSY!!!!

Alright ladies, if you’re dieting, talk to me. Tell me what’s up with you. It’s good to kick dieting in the face together!!! WOOHOOO!!!

Girl, you’re not alone if you know your body does things beyond your control but it still embarrasses the HELL out of you!!! Burps are your stomach expelling gas. A fart is merely a reflex that expels intestinal gas. Snot is drainage from your nose as a result from the loss of stomach mucus. A nose bleed can be caused by many things, but most commonly, it’s dryness from in-door heat during winter.  WE CAN NOT CONTROL ANY OF THESE! Well, actually, we can control the expelling of gases, it may hurt, but we can control it. We can remedy all of them, but if your nose decides to snot or bleed and you’re not aware…. ugh… Nasty Nelly.

Last week, the weather decided to change here in Chicago from crappy winter to gorgeous spring. All in the matter of one day.  My allergies flared up and I blew my nose like a cab driver blowing his horn in city traffic… every five freakin seconds. So my nose is going to be super dry and sensitive, right? I was at a client meeting showing carpet samples. If you’re just tuning in, I sell commercial carpet.  I was showing the carpet samples and I felt my nose running. There’s not tissue around so I was trying to sniff as hard as possible to get the snot back up there, GROSS, I know, but don’t act like you haven’t done it. A sniff is a snot sucking technique and I hear the echos of sniffling all throughout winter in Chicago. No matter how hard and fast I sniffed, I still felt liquid running down my face and about to hit my mouth. I panic and use the back of my hand quickly. GROSS again, but desperate times…. then as my client and I are both looking at beige carpet samples, a few drops of blood dripped on the carpet!!! I looked down at the back of my hand and saw smeared blood. HOLY CRAP I HAVE A NOSE BLEED! My client, who is male, looks up and goes, “UGH, you’re nose is bleeding. You may want to go take care of that. NO SHIT,BUDDDY!!! I should’ve just taken the sample and wipped my nose with it then asked for soap and water and gave him a spiel on the clean-ability of the carpet. I’m not that smooth. Instead, I go to the bathroom, horrified and embarrassed, gave myself a pep talk about how I can’t control the nose bleed. Came up with a few clever lines to throw back at the customer and left the bathroom.

I came out and he commented before I could, “I was hoping someone would walk in so I could tell them that you brought the wrong carpet samples and I punched you.” I burst out laughing, asked him if he wanted to keep the sample for nostalgia, he of course declined and I went on my way.

High five to my client for making a funny and immediately putting me at ease.

Isn’t it crazy, though, that no matter how rebellious our bodies may get and we know these things happen to everyone, it’s still embarrassing? Oh well, what are ya gonna do?

I think we should all take a few seconds to fart, burp, snot, cough, spit and bleed in celebration of our bodies’ cries for help… in private, please.

Me, Kile, Mom and Marya in April. Mac is absent in the photo!

Though Mother’s Day has passed.. I feel guilty for not dedicating a post to all those boo-boo fixers, snot stoppers, shoulder lenders and protective lionesses.. mothers.  I am not a mother. I hope to be a mom one day, but as of this moment, I am without child. A position I hold proudly as I type this in peace and quiet enjoying each sip of my Pinot Noir with no interruptions or high-pitched screams. Then again, I take that back, I am a mother, a mother to wine. I nurture it, I care for it and it leaves me on my ass, tired and sick.  Okay.. that was a statement out of bad judgement… not the same thing …. many mothers will curse me for that comment.. including my mother.. my sister.. my sister-in-law and a boatload of friends with babes. My sincerest apologies… you all know I’m a complete asshole and you claim to love me for it.

The truth is.. we’ve all been embarrassed by a parent, majority of us by our mothers. In our teens, they are the major source of our embarrassment.  I’ll never forget the time I forgot the bloomers under my cheerleading uniform in 9th grade.. instead I was donning pink panties under a thigh-length skirt I was to do toe-touches in just a few hours later.  When I realized my missing bloomers in the girl’s bathroom, in silent panic, I made my way to the Principal’s office, whispered my debacle to the secretary, called my mother and begged for her to rush over bloomers. 

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the classroom door. There stood my sister’s boyfriend, who was a senior jock idiot and loved to embarrass me. He stood there, glowing in the moment, smile linked from ear to ear, as he made his way to me with a brown paper bag with the words, “LAUREN TAYLOR’S BLOOMER’S” written on the outside in magic marker. He said, “Lauren, I think you forgot your bloomers.”  The humiliation began as the entire class laughed at me and realized I wasn’t wearing them under my skirt.  Throughout the day, the story elevated to me not wearing anything at all under my skirt.  The jokes about my missing bloomers continued through 10th grade and finally died off in 11th grade. All this because my mom broadcasted with magic marker what was in the bag.  Her defense was that she thought the Principal’s secretary would understand the urgency when she read the outside of the bag and would, in confidence, call me to the office.  She didn’t know that Marya’s boyfriend had office duty that day and got to the bag first.

That is just one in many ways my mom embarrassed me in my teens. My girlfriends and I have swamped mortifying stories about our moms, but we never considered how we might have embarrassed them …. well, until my friends and siblings grew up and started having children and experiences of their own.

Although, at 29 and 30, when my bother got married 3 years ago, my sister and I both became rapidly aware of the embarrassment we caused my mom when she asked the DJ to take the mic away from us at the reception. Needless to say vodka was doing the talking when we decided to give a joint toast to my brother and his bride.

I took the opportunity on this Mother’s Day to call my mom and sister (who has an almost 4 year-old) and ask their most embarrassing stories as a mother. Let’s start with my mother who had 4 children. Here’s her response to each of us in order:

Marya (now 34)

When Marya was 6 mos old, mom had finished grocery shopping and had her balanced in car seat on the shopping cart. They were in line on a busy grocery day with tons of people around her. Marya, being the gassy infant she was, decided to fart like a 63 year-old man. Those were my moms exact words. She said it was so loud everyone around her heard it. Mom, in her surprise, said, “Marya, goodness!!” Mom said she started to get snarls and looks around her as everyone thought mom was the one who farted and was just blaming it on the infant. She said she was so embarrassed she thought about ditching the cart and coming back later that afternoon. She stayed in line… brave soul.

Me (now 33)

Oddly enough… mom had quite a few stories about me… as an infant, toddler, teenager, college student and as an adult…. all the way to me bitching out her local florist last Sunday when her flowers weren’t delivered on time. I didn’t know mom knew the florist until she called me horrified of my behavior.  I reassured her that as much as I’ve embarrassed her, I’ve embarrassed myself ten times more, hence my blog that is based on embarrassing stories. (She still made me call the florist back and apologize.) My sister actually brought this memory to my attention, because even though Marya is only 16 mos older than I am, she still felt embarrassment at age 6…. caused by me:

From age 4 to 7… I realized at an early age that I wanted my name in lights and announced publicly. When I got lost from my mom in K-Mart, a nice lady took me to the front desk and they asked my name. Moments later, I hear my name blasting over the loud speaker for all to hear. My mom came shortly, worried, hugging me… little Marya too…thinking she would never see her sister again…everyone around us smiling in the midst of our reunitement… the moment was all too perfect… all the attention on me. The ladies at the front calling my name, “Bye Lauren,” with a free sucker in hand. It was my moment. (Yes, I discovered my addiction to drama at an early age.. I blame “Young and the Restless.”)

Needless to say, my need to recreate that moment…every time we walked in freakin K-Mart, became routine. At first, once mom caught on, she put Marya on “Lauren watch” to make sure I didn’t escape to the front. I often did. She finally gave up and took advance of the opportunity for someone else to watch me. They had to announce my name like three times before my mom came to the front, usually at the end of her shopping. I got to know the front desk women and would do a Shirley Temple number for them. My mother got over the embarrassment and was just annoyed. Marya was humiliated every time. She couldn’t believe that she was kin to someone so obnoxious.

Kile (28) and Mac (26)

I combined them, because, to quote my mother, “They still embarrass me, all the time. It’s just been ongoing since Kile was born then Mac joined in.”  She said kindergarten to high school, she would see a neighbor approach the house and would hold her breath, because, nine times out of ten, the boys did something to their yard, house, pet or children…. or all simultaneously.

 Gavin (age 3 – my oldest nephew and only child to my sister, Marya)

Gavin on the chair eating bacon AFTER his hands were washed.

Marya actually had an experience on Mother’s Day. Gavin loves bacon. In fact, they had to order two sides of bacon to accommodate his hunger for the grease infested meat. Gavin likes to eat the bacon while standing on his chair… no matter how many times my sister and brother-in-law pull him down.  There was Gavin, standing up, leaning over to eat his bacon and all of sudden had an itch…. which was down the back of his pants. He reached his hands down the back of his pants and yelled…. where most of the restaurant heard, “Mommy, my booty hole is itching REALLY REALLY bad!! It won’t stop itching!!” Then he took his hand off his butt, out of his pants and reached for another piece of bacon. Marya and Randall (brother-in-law), screeched, both reached for his hand before he could combing the booty-nastiness with grease then consume it. Randall took him to the bathroom and Marya was left by herself being stared at by the other patrons.

I guess the moral of this story is…  we embarrass the holy crap out of our mothers from the moment we’re born so their short-lived moments of payback are the least we can do…. look at Lindsey Lohan’s mom….

I’m afraid to reproduce…

I live in a five story building in Chicago. It takes about a good six minutes to get from the shut of my car door to the shut of my apartment door. It’s often that I leave work and decide to wait for the restroom at home. By the time I actually get to my restroom, I’m crawling and praying to make it to the toilet. It’s quite dramatic actually. You would think I got shot down in the middle of gang battle, dragging my wounded limps to safety and crawling as fast as possible out of dangers way.  It’s like a clip from “Good Fellas,” except my escape vehicle is the toilet. Nope. I just forget I’m an adult sometimes and hold it so freakin long that the pee pee dance can’t sustain my bladder! It’s cute when you’re little, but when you’re over the age of 11, holding yourself and gyrating to the bathroom… it’s a little weird… inappropriate… disturbing really.

When I received the email below, I sympathized with Lisa (and suddenly had to use the restroom.) In a bladder crisis, getting to the actual toilet is the focus, shutting the bathroom door is frivolous.  Here’s Lisa’s story:

I’m not going to lie and say this hasn’t happened before. How many times do we do something inappropriate and don’t learn our lesson until we’re caught? I was at a client’s office enduring a very long meeting. After the first 30 minutes, I had to use the restroom. An hour and half later, once the meeting closed, I was scared out of my mind that if I stood up, my bladder would lose control and run down my leg. I was in pain. We said our good byes. I carefully, without breathing, exited the conference room and asked for the ladies room which felt like a mile away. Once I got to the restroom, I was throwing my things on the floor and unbuckling my belt before the door closed behind me. Oh, and I forgot to mention that this was a public bathroom shared by the east end of the office floor. I ran to the stall, peeled everything off and finally was able to breathe.

Seconds later, I heard the bathroom door shut and footsteps walk toward my stall. Not to be graphic, but no one likes to sit on public toilets these days, so in my suspended position over the seat, I was looking down the entire time. I heard someone yell, “OH, EXCUSE ME!” I looked up to meet eye to eye with my client while in mid-stream. In my frenzy to reach the stall, I forgot to close the door after me. I was embarrassed and extremely uncomfortable. One minute I’m going over court papers and the next minute I’m staring her in the eyes with my pants down. My pants were zipped, hands washed and I was bolting toward the elevators before she could get out of her stall. It gives a whole new meaning to being caught with your pants down.

these kind of pics are not hard to get off the internet...

I’ve heard oodles and oodles of stories where someone sent a text message or email from their phone to the wrong person. Whether it was the next name down or a subliminal selection, it’s not uncommon to do a quick press of “send” then freak out while trying to channel a technical genius to retrieve the message. I’ve done it MANY times. I’ve sent a flirt email that was meant for one guy to an entire distribution list. The embarrassing part is I’m the most terrible flirt on the face of any existing planet, which was broadcasted to about 25 people. I actually digress to an insecure tween when I flirt, saying things like “I’m completely open right now… just waiting for someone to ask me to do something…. what are you doing?” or “bad ass” or “if I were an animal I’d want to a bunny rabbit,”  or “I was the captain of my dance team… in 1995.”

 You’re about to read Kimberly’s story below. This instance is a little heavier than just sending a flirt email to the wrong person.  Poor girl was just trying to bring a little zing back to her marriage… I’m sure she did… just not her marriage. Girl, you’re not alone if you accidentally send a nude photo to your neighbor’s husband.

My husband and I had been going to couple’s counseling. In our last session, our counselor told me I needed to make an extra effort to be spontaneous when it came to our love life. One week, my husband went out of town and I thought I would take that opportunity to be spontaneous. I had recently hired a personal trainer and was feeling great physically so I decided to take a little picture on my phone and send it to my husband. I don’t want to be graphic, but the picture did not include clothing. I took a picture, reviewed it, wrote a sexy message, then selected his name from my address book and pressed “send.” In the midst of pressing the send button, I realized something. I wasn’t sending the nude picture to my husband Dan, I was sending it to my neighbor Dan. In my state of horror, I pressed every button imaginable to cancel the picture and even ripped out the battery hoping to kill the message. It didn’t. I immediately called my husband to tell him what happened and before I could get off the phone, Dan’s wife called. I didn’t give her the chance to speak.  I blurted the story and offered to conference in my husband to confirm my story. I even told her our marriage issues and how I was taking our counselor’s advice. Worse, I told her how long it had been since we had sex. I kept talking nonstop to soften the issue. I’d never been so petrified in my life. The story was eventually straightened out, but it was still awkward at the end of the call.

After a few weeks of dodging our neighbors, my husband invited them over for dinner. It was so uncomfortable at first with ridiculous small talk. My husband finally proposed a toast to break the ice, “Here’s to everyone at this table seeing a hot naked picture of my wife ……except me.”  We all laughed and made jokes, but I’ll never take another nude picture again to save my life… or my marriage.

Common American thinking of anything vanilla is something plain, classic, sweet and innocent. All the women in my family add vanilla to ANYTHING to make a food more sweet and comforting. The southern lady in the video below bitched slapped the purity right out of vanilla when she got down and dirty with some vanilla extract.  I had no idea there was such a high alcohol content in the flavor solution! No wonder my mom always said, “Just a drop… that’s all you need,” when I added it to batter. She knew I would’ve made a drunken pancake baby between vanilla extract and Bisquick if I had known… hmmmm…. a thought…

After drinking two bottles, it landed this woman on a street curb and in the slammer. Lindsay Lohan, if you’re reading this, stay away from the extract, you crazy little jail monkey.  Girl, you’re not alone if you’ve received a DUI from a substance your sweet Grandma uses to make cupcakes.

Oh…. my… lordy. I read this story from a fellow GYNA Gal, Holly, and busted my button laughing… well, the Big Mac for lunch could have helped with that bursting button…. but let’s just fault laughter by request from my gut and ass. This little story brought me back to the days when I first moved to Chicago and I was so poor, I had to cut and color my own hair. When I finally had the money to go to a professional, she blasted me for two hours about how my last stylist was so bad, they shouldn’t have a job. I kept saying .” I know, she was awful, that’s why I came to you.” That statement was not a lie…. the fact I went to a professional was, but, whatever, I didn’t want to do hair anyway!!

For those of you, and I know there are a ton of you out there, including my mom AND my sister, that have tried to cut your child’s hair, you will love Holly’s little hiccup:

I was recently laid off because of the down economy. My husband and I have been cutting costs in every area possible trying to soften the blow of my salary loss. When I realized my four year-old needed a  haircut, I thought, how hard could it be, I’ll do it myself and save $20. It was a disaster. I kept trying to even out his bangs and I ended up cutting them to his scalp!! He has a huge forward like my husband so he looked like Herman Munster, but with much shorter bangs!! I thought about shaving it, but once I spiked his hair, I THOUGHT it looked okay, until, I dropped him off at preschool and his teacher asked if he had gotten hold of my scissors and cut it himself. I was so embarrassed, I just said, “yes.” 

About a week later, my son brought home a gift certificate to a local salon. I called his teacher to ask where it came from, she said Zach (my son) had told one of the mom’s that we didn’t have money for a haircut so I had to do it myself  and messed up his hair.  The mom felt so bad, she went and got a gift certificate so he could get a good haircut!!! I was mortified, especially because I had let the teacher believe my son had done it and I was caught in a lie! I took my son to my hairdresser, had his head shaved and returned the gift certificate with a “thank you,” and an explanation. If I have to give up cable, I will never skip on a haircut for my kids again!

If you’re happy with wrinkles and you have them, clap your hands….. clap…clap… WHAAATEVER!! I like wrinkles as much as I liked my 9th grade English teacher. She would read my papers aloud, correcting openly as she read. Suck it, lady! She was just upset because donning 80′s flybacks in ’92 with yellow hair/grey roots lead me to believe she was much older. At 14, I didn’t have mouth control, so when her 7 year old daughter visited class, I very politely said, “You have such a cute granddaughter.”  She corrected me immediately then hated and tortured me for the rest of the year. I didn’t know how I felt about wrinkles at 14, but I do now… and with experience, I realized my loathe for her and facial lines were the same.  I have a problem with harboring feelings…..

ANYWHO..to my point… At 25, we all start freaking out about age. At 33, I like it’s ridiculous that someone at the age of 25 doesn’t realize how young they are, then again, my girlfriends at 43 keep telling me I don’t realize how young I am… and so on…. and so on. Regardless of the decade  inhabited, we have an embarrassing story with age involved.  Whether someone got our age terribly wrong, we wore something too old or too young or we wet our pants from sneezing … most of us have a funny, embarrassing story attributed to age.

Tell us your story! I’ll sweeten the deal. With the help of  Stephanie Dolgoff, blogger and author of  “My Formerly Hot Life,”  I’m able to offer THREE lucky winners a copy of her book! It launches on August 17th which means.. the winners will be lucky owners of the book as it hits book stores!

Here’s the deal:

1) Submit your story here by August 18th or email your story to lauren@girlyourenotalone.com.  In the “title” or “subject” line please put “Contest – INSERT YOUR STORY TITLE.” **

2)Please keep entries to 700 words max!

3) Please make sure to add your full name, email address and home address at the end of your story to ensure winners receive their books!

4) Winners will be announced Sunday, August 22nd!

5) Share with as many of your friends as possible! Encourage anyone you know with a perplexing age story to SUBMIT! Regardless if your submission makes the Top Three, it is likely to be used for future posts and related GYNA publications.

6) What are you waiting for? Pour yourself a little vino, make a litte ice cream sandwich and start writing your experience! Get it in by August 18th! Don’t worry about grammer/misspellings! It’s the content we care about!

** By sending entry via email, you submit your story to girlyourenotalone.com, and it is understood that your story may be posted on girlyourenotalone.com or any future GYNA publication with no monetary compensation.

Breasts…. we have them… we buy them….. we hate them…. we envy them….. we flash them….  There’s a lot of emotion when it comes to breasts. The worst is when they take over.  They’re not just two rolling hills of flesh and fat, oh no, there is a little brain in each one. A brain that sometimes can be rebellious and make the girls just BUST OUT of their little fabric-button-secured homes when they’re grounded. Otherwise, we wouldn’t put them in a fabric/button jail… we would free them and flaunt them. Those little devils!! My fellow blogger friend of Dating Experiences of a Woman in Hollywood  recently had a motorcycle adventure with a hottie, and the girls came along….uninvited!! Let’s read about her breasts together, shall we?

Whenever Julian works out at the Hollywood YMCA, every guy at the gym turns to look at him because he has perfectly shaped, muscular arms. He’s probably in his late 30s, has thick dark hair, baby blue eyes, a straight nose and full lips. I’ve often sat on the leg machine and lost count of my reps, watching Julian pump iron, fantasizing about dating a man with arms like his and what it would feel like to have them wrapped around me.

One day after spin class, I was in the weight room, when Julian approached and offered to show me the proper way to do tricep curls.  “If people knew the proper way of lifting weights, they would be in much better shape,” he said. “See this muscle line here in your arm…” His voice trailed off.  I had no idea what he was saying after I stood up and noticed how handsome he is.  His eyelashes are unfairly long, his olive skin is flawless and just the slightest bit of hair was visible on his hard chest, beneath his v-neck t-shirt. 

“You’re not interested at all in what I’m saying, are you?” he laughed.  I snapped back to attention.  “I’m sorry.  My mind traveled somewhere else for a second.”   “I used to live around the corner from you,” he said.  “About ten years ago.  I remember you because you rode a motorcycle.”  “I sold that bike after I wiped out in Laurel Canyon,” I told him.  “I haven’t been on one since.  “I have my Harley parked out front,” Julian said. “Do you want to go for a ride and get a coffee?”  He was asking me out?! “Ok, let me take a shower and I’ll meet you in 15 minutes.”

After I finished showering, I slid on my jeans, pulled on my sleeveless, cotton shirt that buttoned up the front, and hoped it wasn’t too obvious I wasn’t wearing a bra.  When I met Julian out front, he handed me the keys to his bike.  “Why don’t you drive?” he said.  I had not been on a bike since my spill and didn’t want to any chances wrecking his pristine Harley.  “Don’t worry, I’ll totally help you.”  He handed me a helmet and I took the keys, tucked in my shirt and climbed on. Julian eased in behind me.  I anticipated his arms wrapping around me, but he just placed his hands on my hips.  I started up the engine, took a deep breath and pulled away from the curb.

It was 75 degrees outside, sunny and I was making every green light.  The hair that spilled out from under the helmet whipped around in the wind and my clothes flapped against my skin.  As we continued along, I noticed the pedestrians on the street turning their heads and pointing at us.  I leaned back and shouted to Julian, “Why is everyone pointing?” I asked.  “Because it’s a chick on a bike,” he said.  I have seen plenty of women riding bikes and never saw heads turning and fingers pointing like they did that day.  But I ignored it.  I was too happy! I had finally gotten over my fear of riding again, thanks to Julian.  I made it through three more green lights before hitting a stop sign and downshifting.  I put my feet on the ground and turned back toward Julian, “I’m so glad we did this!”  But Julian said nothing.  His face was bright red, his mouth agape, and he was staring at my chest.  “What’s the matter?” I asked, glancing down, following his line of sight.  My shirt had blown wide open and I had just driven down Franklin Avenue for approximately three miles on a motorcycle with my breasts completely exposed!!!!

I haven’t seen Julian since that day.

Some ladies want extensions in their hair. I want extensions on my bills. Maternity leave. Vacation. Credit limits. Leases. The amount of time the hot guy at the gym helps adjust weight on the arm machine with his rock hard chest pressed against our back… ahh…so many things we want extended with no control. BUT…. today, I do have control over an extension…. the “Age She’s Such a Beotch” Story Contest!!

I’ve gotten emails asking for stories to be accepted after August 18th, which was the original due date.  Ask and you shall receive,  ladies!! Wish granted! The new deadline to get those stories in is September 1st! Please click the image below for all the details.

The best part of submitting your embarrassing stories about aging is the chance to win one of  THREE copies of A “My Formerly Hot Life,” by Stephanie Dolgoff which launched TODAY!!!  It’s already getting love from the media – Stephanie was on the Today Show, this morning. Click on the video below to view.

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

As a side job, I’m a freelance makeup artist. I’m currently doing makeup for an artsy fashion show. Last night, I met with the team designing the garment and we started discussing the makeup they wanted to achieve. The model wasn’t able to come to the meeting so they were concerned I wouldn’t capture their vision. Here’s how the conversation went:

Heidi -  So are you good with what we’re wanting on the makeup?

Me – No problem. I’ll play around with some ideas before the show.

Heidi – Well, how will you do that if the model isn’t around?

Me – Oh, I really don’t need the model initially, I’ll just play with myself… I do it all the time.

silence..

CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM, SOME HELP….PLEASE!!!! For the love of no filter! What I meant was, “I’ll experiment with the makeup on my own face before I do a run-through with the model.”  Because I blab before braining, I communicated that I would just masturbate until I met the model. I guess every artist has their own way of  procreating brilliance.

I  have no doubt she knew what I really meant, but it’s just embarrassing that I couldn’t mold my thought into an intelligent reply. My slips are always sexual implications to strangers or clients, rarely to friends or family that would dismiss it as a Lauren Moment. Ahh…. Freud.. I am the poster child of your life’s work.

Ahh…. sigh…. if I had a dollar for every embarrassing moment I’ve heard that involves a bathroom or a cell phone, I would have enough money to pay Bravo to cancel “Real Housewives of Orange County” and save what’s left of my brain cells. The more I watch, the more they deplete, however, I continue to sit in front of the TV, watching in a trance….. salivating… I think the drool has to do with my dwindling brain cells.

Rambling…… MY POINT….. this particular story I received is a double dose of evil! A cellphone… in a bathroom. Oh Mary Tyler Moore, help us!  Take a gander at Aimee’s email below. Cheer up, Missy! You’ve lived through it and you’re not alone!

I had a company conference call and I decided to take it from my home office. The call went longer than I had anticipated. There I sat watching the clock while my bladder got fuller and fuller. I was about to explode. I decided that our Vice President wasn’t actually in the room so if it’s muted, what harm would using the bathroom during a call do? Keep in mind, the call involved our entire division which is 30 people. I put in the code for mute, heard the beep that indicated mute and took the phone (which was on speaker) with me to the toilet. I was afraid I would miss important information if I stepped away from the call.

While I was in mid-stream, with my phone on speaker, I heard the VP who was leading the call say, “Is someone washing their hands? Please put your phones on mute.” As I continued, I heard my direct Manager say, ” Everyone, please do not bring your phones in public places. Everyone on mute!” I didn’t realize they were talking about me until I flushed the toilet and the VP then dismissed the call because of the “inappropriate interruption.” I started to panic so I looked at the last numbers dialed on my phone, I didn’t mute because it was already muted, I unmuted the phone!! They heard everything I did in the bathroom. I was the reason it was dismissed!! I was horrified!!! We received various emails from our VP and Human Resources. My boss called everyone individually furious asking if we knew who it was. I lied because I thought I would get fired. I immediately started a job search. Thankfully, I found a job quickly and resigned from my position.  A former coworker told me there was a rumor going around that I was the one who used the bathroom during the conference call and left because I was embarrassed. Little does she know the rumor is true!

I don’t have children and I’ve never birthed one. I don’t have the guts to do it just yet. I’m 34 and still trying to get up the nerve…… then I read Lindsey’s story below, it made me laugh hysterically then wet my pants with fear…. then laugh again… then sweat with panic…. but again I laughed. Wait.. am I pregnant?

You amazing women who have birthed a child will relate to Lindsey and laugh sans the fear! Lindsey, I heart you for bringing your nurse bottles of wine! Now.. on to Lindsey’s story:

As many of you know, child birth is a unique experience. Some will lie and say it doesn’t hurt or it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. If you are one of those people, what are you smoking? And may I have some, please? For the rest of us, we know it is a terrifying, yet rewarding experience with many ups and downs along the way. This is just one inkling of how my “labor” went.

In honor of keeping this short and sweet, I will not explain all the events leading up to my delivery; just know that my blood pressure was sky high (this I have to thank to a piece of crap boss and client that I was dealing with on that particular day). So, I was admitted to the hospital and on bed rest for 7 days when my doctor decided I needed to have a c-section. LONGER story short-all went well with the delivery aside from my daughter being 6 weeks premature; she is now a happy, healthy 3 year old which I attribute all my gray hair to. However, back to post-delivery: I had some trouble with clotting and was in A LOT of pain. I saw stars….literally, saw stars and had to be given a shot. Nurses exact words, “This will help your uterus contract BUT you will shit yourself without a moment’s notice.” WHAT?? “We have to give you this, but just know that you will have immediate diahrrea that you cannot control.” Well, flippin great. So, I get the shot and about 5 minutes later, I had this BURNING in my stomach. About that time, my husband opens the door to my room and says “Hi,honey. John and Jane are here to see you.” I, of course scream something unimaginable to let him know that no one was welcome, period. I let the nurse know I was about to “soil” myself and she grabbed a bed pan, and about that time, I let the LOUDEST, MOST POLLUTED fart that seriously blew that poor nurses hair back out of her face. Then nothing. I never did soil myself, but I could never look that nurse in the face again. EVER. I dropped off 3 bottles of wine as a thank you a few weeks later with an apology note. Jill, if you are reading this, you are an amazing nurse and I’d thank you in person if I didn’t think I’d drop dead of humiliation.