"Sex sells babe."

I was complaining to Marc last night that I needed new work clothes. This is how the conversation went:

Me: I hate all my work clothes. I need more money so I can go shopping.
Marc: Yeah, you should get some new, tight clothes. Mmm Hmm.
Me: I don't want to dress like a slut at work.
Marc: Sex sells babe.
Me: I'm not selling anything.

Let me break this down for you a little bit. I guess technically you could say since I do marketing I am "selling" our company to people, but that is definitely a technicality. I mostly deal with clients/prospects over the phone.

Now to address the work clothes situation--90% of my work clothes are too big and make me look frumpy. Now, I (and I'm sure my boss and co-workers) don't necessarily like the way this looks (think oversized 3/4 button down shirts and loose black pants) but it's really comfortable. It's like wearing PJs to work. I usually pair it with some "dress" flip-flops. Is that an oxy-moron?

I know I need to dress more professionally and I think I will continue to work on that. However on the few days I do wear more fitted clothes I am constantly uncomfortable. I feel like I'm always pulling my shirt down, sucking in when I stand up, and starring at the indentations my "fitted" pants left in the bathroom mirror. One time I could almost make out the pants button manufacturer on my stomach. It's torture. Also, when I wear more fitted clothes I'm terrified I'm a big meal away from popping a button off and putting out someones eye. I would also like to point out that when you're not a size 2, you have to choose, either fitted shirt and loose pants or loose shirt and fitted pants. You can't have it both ways unless you want to show the whole world your muffin top has a muffin top*.


*A muffin top is when your pants are a too tight and your stomach spills over the top resembling the top of a muffin.

Biggest Loser Challenge

Biggest Loser is one of "my shows". Last week was the season premier. It's parent/child teams vs. spouses. As usual, I cry like a big baby listening to their stories and relating to the struggle they have with eating/weight/body image/self-esteem. Marc was at home sitting next to me on the couch, I unapologetically warned him that I would cry while watching and the fact that I was on beer #7 probably didn't help my ability to hold back tears. My sister was there and I asked her if I got a Biggest Loser contest together would she want to join. Us big girls know who we are, we know we big, that's why I knew she wouldn't be offended by me asking her to join. She agreed and slowly but surely others have caught the Biggest Loser fever and we now have 16 contestants with the potential to win $320. Holy Moses! So anyways, I'll keep everyone updated on how that is going. The contest will go into December.

So this weekend was basically a fat fest. I ate, a lot. I mean a lot. Yesterday was Dooms Day, my last day to unapologetically stuff my face--and I took that task seriously. For breakfast I had a sausage croisoinwich meal from Burger King, Culver's butterburger and cheese curds for lunch, mini 100 Grand bar. Happy Hour with girls from work consisted of a strawberry daiquiri, 2 beers, about 3 baskets of chips (w/queso of course!), rice and beans, and then about 10:30 PM Marc and I had Chinese food delivered--Beef Lo Mein for me. I stupidly just wondered "How many calories and fat do you think that is?" Well, using the fabulous tool that is technology, I checked restaurants websites and I have a total.......4800 CALORIES AND 233 GRAMS OF FAT! Now, I don't know whether to be ashamed or incredibly proud of that feat. It takes skill to consume that much without having any come back up. I think I will choose proud--yes, I'm proud. I would like to point out that it apparently isn't just a girl thing to have a final hurrah before you start a diet plan, I came home from Happy Hour to find Marc sitting in front of the TV with an empty carton of Edy's chocolate ice cream. Now, I ate all that for strategy. I wanted to have a really high weigh in for my first one so when comparing the last one, it would give me an advantage. Yes, I know that sounds screwy, but it's what I did. I weighed myself this morning and I had gained 4 lbs from last week. Yow-za!

So today Biggest Loser Challenge starts. I feel all puffy and bloated from the insane amount of salt I had yesterday. I skipped breakfast and for lunch had the tender roast only lettuce and ketchup from KFC and a side of green beans. They shouldn't call it a side--they should call it 5 green beans. Because that is all it was.

I am honestly sad. Food is really one of the few things I look forward to on a regular basis. Like what kind of sauce will my next meal be centered around? I can tell you for sure cheese, bacon and sour cream will always be better on a baked potato than salsa. Ho-hum. I am competitive so I'm excited about the challenge but I already want Tobin's. I will never "fake out" my body into thinking a carrot tastes the same as this...............

The Belt

I had another crap weigh in yesterday. Was up 1.5 lbs. I can't say I'm surprised. I haven't really rejoined Weight Watchers hard core and actually had a torpedo from La Gondola for breakfast last week (think gondola from Avanti's). Breakfast of champions.

Anyways, once again, I decided to jump back into Weight Watchers full force and actually move my body by going to 4 Seasons. I did an intense 55 minute cardio workout and came home. I had purposely worn sweatpants and t-shirt (as opposed to shorts and wife beater--my normal uniform) so I would sweat a lot and feel like I had done more than I actually did. It worked, I was covered in sweat and I felt like I had kicked ass. I even waited to change until Marc came home so I could have someone point out how hard I must have worked by saying "Man, you must have been working real hard, you're shirt is covered in sweat." He did, just as I predicted, and it felt good.

That feeling last about 2 seconds when he added, "Oh, hey, I hope you don't mind I borrowed your brown belt today for work." It wasn't a big deal that he had borrowed my belt. I mean, it made me feel like a real fatty that my boyfriend could borrow my belt, but I didn't care. And then it got worse, I noticed he had it on the tightest setting. Are you kidding me?! I had the worse sinking feeling in my stomach. I can't even get that thing past the 3rd or 4th hole. I instantly whined that it wasn't fair and Marc reassured me he had an exceptionally small waist for a man. I think all I managed was an "F you" under my breath. To make matters worse, he wore it around his head like an Indian headdress the rest of the night while we watched TV. I finally in true Crazy Sarah style turned to him out of nowhere and shrieked, "Can you take that stupid thing off your head now. It's taunting me." Belts are the devil.

The reviews are in.....

I had the McRib tonight. I decided around 4 PM tonight was the night it was going down. I came home and told Marc after our bike ride I wanted to hit up McDonald's for my BBQ dream. He was ecstatic since he loves Big Macs and Filet-O-Fish more than me.

I don't think I've had a McRib for about a year and couldn't remember if I really, truly loved the sandwich as much as I thought, or if it had just been hyped up in my head. There really isn't a worse feeling than getting excited about something (food) and then it sucks hard. So we rolled through the drive-thru. I got my McRib minus the pickles (they suck--you know it, I know it). I got home and opened the box--what happened to them being wrapped by the way? I mean, I love the box, but the wrapper seemed so much more environmentally friendly.

I took a bite.....YUM! I took another bit....Mmmmm. Each bite, more delicious than the last Seriously. Ask Marc, I made an audible positive review about my dining experience after every bite. My only complaint is that there isn't more sauce (I will ask for extra sauce next time) and that it's not bigger. However, I think the later has to do with my lack of portion control.

So there you have it. I give the McRib 2 forks up.