Rapier's Wit

If you've been following this blog since forever ago then you'll know that on a whim I nicknamed my breasts Thelma and Louise. It was a joke during a conversation I had with a guy online back in the late 90s. It started by laughing at the weird things men name their junk. Thelma and Louise seemed far more appropriate than Laverne and Shirley. With that out of the way, please understand that I have never been shy discussing my boobalas. It is like ignoring the 800 pound gorilla in the room.  Usually, the discussion revolves around the impossibility of finding a bra that truly suits me (hence the secondary title of this blog) and the difficulty in wearing pretty much any shirt, sweater, jacket, etc... Today, the Girls need to have a serious talk with all of you. When I was 19 a lump was found in my left breast. Immediately, my gynecologist was notified, he examined me and sent me to a general surgeon the same day. Within a week the lump was subjected to a needle biopsy whic...

Blah blah blah a couple years ago I lost 40 pounds. Injury to the left knee incapacitated me beyond doing more than standing and walking. Then, the icky wound on the left leg. That is all it took for this food addicted, exercise loathing girl to revert back to the habits that would put all that weight back on. Yes, I am pissed at myself, but that mindset isn't going to help me one bit. All that can be done now is to pass 'get out of jail' and move on. I feel like shit and have accepted it. Now, let's get this big ol' ass on the road to recovery. In this instance I compare it to someone falling off the wagon with alcohol or heroin. Checking into rehab isn't feasible. So, that means I am my clinician and therapist along with the help of friends who've successfully lost weight. What's ironic is that a couple of those friends were inspired by my weight loss commitment to do the same for themselves ... and here we are. I thought the quickly approachi...

If you've been stalk following me for more than a year, then you know I had some issues with my left leg. Wait, did I blog about that horrible experience or did I manage to keep it to myself? I keep very little about my life to myself. What I mean is that I may have only reported the ugliness on Facebook. OK. In March of 2012 a funky bump appeared on my lower left leg. I, being stupid, picked at it. Despite bandaging, treating it with triple antibiotic cream etc... the damned thing would not heal. After 2 months of that nonsense I sought out WebMd. (You thought I was going to say medical treatment, didn't you?) There was a myriad of possibilities and I treated the wound accordingly. From soaking it with apple cider vinegar to coating it with hydrogen peroxide, it only got worse. Surprise! Hey, I wanted a homeopathic remedy. In the long run it was foolish. Don't you dare wag your finger at me. When our vacation to California was quickly approaching, I made haste, fina...

It's on my head. The gray matter. Not surprising to some of you who know me. No, not my brain or manner of thinking. Although, there are days I wonder how I manage to get my underpants on without falling over. Anywho ... In July of 2012 I decided that coloring my hair every four weeks to hide the silver roots sprouting forth was far too much. Hated it! Loathed the cost even more and that was with box color. L'Oreal 'cos I'm worth it and all that jazz. My dearest friend had taken me to a Chicago salon for color correction because box color and my lack of knowledge really botched up the roots. Those bright red roots were not intentional During the voodoo this adorable young man had to perform to bring me to a more natural state, he insisted that I never do box color again! I promised. The salon maintenance does not agree with my meager pay. What's a poor single mama to do? Go natural. After months of explaining that I wasn't failing in touching up my roo...

In my previous post I mentioned that I have been receiving treatments for varicose veins. Yes, I have diseased veins that were causing me physical distress. For over twenty years I have avoided going swimming in public places. I didn't wear skirts shorter than two inches below my knee. Never would you see me wearing shorts. That mental anguish lasted decades because the road map bumpy veins began erupting in my twenties. Awful to see. The discomfort whether sitting or standing or walking was unbearable some days. "Virtually pain free." Meh. Kind of an understatement. Since November 2012 I've received laser treatments in both legs. Then, they attacked my left leg with multiple, ultrasound guided, deep vein injections. The technician informed me that I received FORTY TWO such injections in two sessions. That doesn't include the nearly thirty topical injections for the spider veins. Today treatment on the deeper veins began on the right leg. There were fewe...

The stories you see late at night while your hand infiltrates the confines of the Cheetos bag are true.  The results are genuine.  They come from hard work and dedication.  The subjects in the success stories are accessible. The trainers are available for real time chats.  BEACHBODY is the real deal, y'all.  How do I know? I'm one of those success stories (in the making). The people you see on the dvds are my social network friends.  The coaches who support members of Team Beachbody are also my support squadron. What can I do to help you become the next Beachbody success story? Beachbody Fitness sampler video

Late nights and early mornings provide an assault of infomercials from that steamer sanitizer gadget and hair care products to workout programs guaranteed to get you in the best shape of your life.  In the past, I have been guilty of ordering the weight loss products only to try them a couple of times and when the fat didn't instantly melt away those dvds with all the diet inserts would find a home nestled away with dust bunnies on the back of my book shelf. Then, as most of you know, I was bitten with the fitness bug.  Basically what that means is that, mentally, I was ready to get in shape, lose weight and be committed to it for a lifetime.  It wasn't until then I began seeing remarkable results.  I had to overcome the pitfall period that usually got the better of me in the past with other diets.  The only way this was accomplished was by having support and encouragement from friends and my online support system of Beachbody.  Initially the weight wasn'...

Oh, don't get your panties in a wad. I'm still me.  The wildhaired girl blood still pumps through my veins.  But it was time to take on a new moniker.  My world is ever expanding.  In fact, there will come a time when you may regard me as galactic! Not long ago I decided to take a leap and invest in myself.  I'm not certain at what point it hit me that my personal value warranted it, but taking care of my body became vital.  Sure, that's something we should all deem necessary, and quite frankly, a no-brainer. Unfortunately, not all of us do that and I was the grand marshal of the self-defeat; self-loathing; self-deprecating parade.  With that newly discovered sense of pride and good health came the decision to own my domain -- I'm the master of my domain !! Heh. " Wait a minute! " you might be yelling in your mind, " How in the hell do you go from changing to a healthy lifestyle to buying a domain name, weirdo!?"   I'll tell you -- I foun...

Finally! I can relax knowing that when men see my big, round tushy and ample bosom that it's equivalent to taking drugs. Good ones, too! Apparently, men are hard wired to love a woman's curves for a reason. The bootilicious zone is neurologically a reward center to the brain of a man. So, tell me again why models are essentially curveless? We've been force fed that super skinny is sexy. Yet, this report contradicts what seems to be accepted and depicted as sexy. Many men DO like curves? I've been told this over the years, but it's nice to have science to back up the assertion. What it all boils down to is survival of the fittest or the natural inclination to reproduce. A woman with a curvaceous figure is perceived as being able to carry babies. The phrase, "that girl has birthing hips" shouldn't be considered an insult after all.  You can read all about it in this article at Mail Online . And for you guys who can't seem to put down that Maxim, Pl...

As a gift to myself, I mentioned on February 15th that I bought the EA Sports Active program for the Wii. Prior to buying it I had been sick.  Even though I've managed to feel better, my lungs weren't up to the challenge. Or, at least that is the story I was feeding myself while indulging on crap-food.  The subconscious Marissa was fighting the pending launch back into a healthier lifestyle.  My subconscious alter-ego is ultra lazy and craves junk food.  While I do not crave or love sweets, that chubby nitwit devours them before the conscious me is aware. I'm sure she has chloroform in her arsenal in which to render the smart me into a delirious haze of submission. With all the chips out of the house, Monday is a new week.  Today, I tore into the cellophane of the EA program like Charlie Bucket tears into that Wonka Bar.  Being excited, even if feigned, helps the endeavor along.  At least for me.  Naturally, I wouldn't be able to perform the req...

It's difficult to feel bodacious when, in the course of 3 days, you've worn nothing but pajamas and your head is so filled with snot that sneezing gives way to panic that your head will explode. Flat hair and a red nose does not describe hotness. Even the most confident woman might be left feeling less than sexually intoxicating under these conditions. I am not that confident woman. That is unless you're asking me if I'm certain that I currently feel like hell warmed over. Alas, I have taken to task to answer the BODACIOUS question of the week posed by Jane at Confessions of a Middle-Aged Suburban Diva.  She asks: What is your personal theme song ... why did you choose it? Oof! With consideration to the theme of 'being bodacious', I had to dig deep under my current health conditions.  I grew up as the youngest child in a household of eight children.  For as long as I can remember I made choices based on what I thought everyone wanted me to do.  I gave u...