A Dumbbell In A Home Gym

Dresses and Jean Blues.

Here's the Little Black Dress I mentioned. Although I already had a wedding outfit in mind, I popped into Dress Barn the Friday before we were due to leave. And there it was. It fit, and it wasn't even terribly expensive. I've seen some other photos from the wedding and noticed that the dress has a real "Hi, I'm Nicole and here are my boobs!" effect, but ... eh, the heck with it. I didn't hear any complaints.

And yes, it's sleeveless. My upper arms are far and away my least favorite body part, but that day? It was way too hot and humid for me to give a damn. And the wedding was outdoors. I brought a wrap, but the wrap sat forgotten for most of the evening. I felt terrible for the people who'd bought long-sleeved dresses in the reasonable but ultimately incorrect belief that October would be kinda chilly.

The picture doesn't really do the dress justice; there's a sort of satiny black waistband running around the middle and a glittery circle pin and a bow in the middle. Black on black doesn't show up well on film, I guess.

So here's a new one. Tonight I was at the rec center. (That's not the "new" part, smartass.) While I was over using the weights, one of the guys who works at the center came over and told a nearby kid that he couldn't work out wearing the blue jeans he had on; he had to wear "athletic clothing." This set off quite the series of events. The kid went over to tell his dad, who was on an elliptical trainer. The dad stopped ellipticizing, walked over to the employee, and pretty clearly said something like "Whaddaya mean, my kid can't work out in jeans?" I couldn't hear the employee's reply, but Dad ended up chewing out his kid so loudly that I could hear it from across the gym. Geez. The poor kid should've just stayed home and blown up monsters on the Xbox.

But anyhow, am I missing something? I'd think that working out in jeans would suck for many different reasons (the heaviness and moisture factors, seams digging into tender places during certain moves, etc.), but why would there be actual rules against it? I've seen people at the rec center work out in the damnedest clothes; I even saw one guy running on the treadmill in what had to be Casual Friday work finery (including loafers). It strikes me as uncomfortable and kinda gross, but against the rules?

So that's what distracts me when I'm sweating it out on the assisted pullup machine. Happy weekend, everyone.

Very Late Friday Roundup.

Couple things:

1. I'm very flattered that my blog is listed as one of the Nursing Online Education Database's Top 100 Health and Wellness Blogs. This is a pretty comprehensive listing and covers a full spectrum of health, diet, and fitness sites. It's worth checking out.

And I found their description of my site very cool in an offbeat sort of way: "She definitely has some strong opinions about diets and about exercise, and you can take them or leave them. But, she has a certain charm that seems almost unavoidable." Yeah, you -- just TRY to avoid my charm. I dare you.

2. If it's October, someone in my family must be getting married. (And here I thought my husband and I were being all unusual by getting married in October. I said that to the lady who did my hair for last year's family wedding, and I swear that every hairdresser in the salon cracked up simultaneously.) I'm not a bridesmaid this time, but I think I found a smokin' hot dress to wear anyhow. It's a little black cocktail dress and it's tight where I'm tight and loose and flowy where I'm loose and flowy; I can't ask for better than that. If I can pin down my husband and his camera, I'll try to get a nice full-body shot of it to replace the October 2006 picture on my About page. It's way past time for a new photo there.

3. There were a couple of intriguing developments on the Kimkins front this week. First of all, a Los Angeles TV station did an excellent two-part series on Kimkins. Aside from calling Kimmer "The Kimmer" (which I found kind of awesome), the station really nailed the story. You can view both segments by following the links here, if you're interested. The first part features a particularly entertaining clip of "The Kimmer" skedaddling like a scared kitten when she's confronted by the reporter and a phalanx of TV cameras.

And if you ever wondered if all those success stories that appeared on the Kimkins site were genuine, the answer is largely a big fat NYET! Although a few were legit, it turns out that a staggering number of those "after" photos were ganked from various Russian mail-order bride sites (the pictures in that link are merely the tip of the ripped-off Russian iceberg), including the very picture that Kimmer sent to Woman's World magazine as her own "after" shot. (Edited to add: Oh, snap. The Low Carb Friends just found a match for Kimmer's infamous red dress "after" photo, the one that triggered my suspicions in the first place.)

After a week of stellar publicity like that, Kimmer sent out an email to members claiming that Kimkins is now under new ownership. There's no word yet on who the lucky new chump bagman owner is; this is quite possibly another steaming load that's meant to get the pressure off Kimmer. Time will tell; I can't believe how much this mess has snowballed since I started following it.

Have a great weekend, all.

This Entry Brought To You By The Number Two.

This entry marks both my 200th post in "A Dumbbell In A Home Gym" and the second anniversary of the blog itself.

I'm not a size 2 yet, but my weight doesn't start with a 2 anymore, so I'd say it's a fair trade.

So I bought that size 6 sundress thinking that it would be the perfect item to wear on a summer day when the heat and humidity were so thick that you could scrape them off your skin with a butter knife.

(But let's be honest -- even if the thing had been made out of hay, barbed wire, and bubble gum, I'd still have bought it for the size tag alone.)

Well, this weekend brought on two of those summer days; high heat, high humidity. I took the dress out of the closet with some trepidation, wondering if it would be one of those infuriating outfits that looked okay in the store but like hell at home. Or if it just plain wouldn't fit at all. Maybe the extreme cold that day (hard to believe now!) had addled my brain cells, and I'd hallucinated the whole thing.

But no; it looked fine. My husband seemed to like it a lot, which is funny; when I showed it to him originally he said "That's a ... *different* look for you," which I figured was his polite way of saying "Ew." Maybe he just meant "It isn't black? You bought a dress with colors? Whoa."

I'd forgotten how cleavagey it is, though, if I'd ever noticed to begin with.

But I wore it around all weekend. The tag didn't magically change sizes; the dress was about as comfortable as I'd hoped, and if it weren't for that cleavage business I'd probably have worn it to work today. It's that hot out.

I also spent the weekend perusing the Shape Ultimate Body Book. I know that hardcore weight and fitness junkies tend to wrinkle their muscular noses at anything involving Shape, but the book has a lot of good pointers for assessing your goals and getting yourself back on track if you've been in a slump. Whatever helps at this point, right?

Bringing Me To Heel.

First off, this week is starting off much better than last week did. I've been able to get back to routine treadmilling, and I've done Week One of the Couch to 5K plan twice. (If C25K is new to you, I highly recommend it. It's a great way to shake up walks, even if you don't plan to become a runner.) And the eating is much more under control.

In other, not entirely fitness-related news, I seem to be developing a weird shoe addiction. I'll put all the talk about it under a cut just in case shoe talk bores you silly.

Dress Barn Rules, Old Navy Drools.

I've been following the story about Old Navy kicking its plus sizes out of its stores via entries from Big Fat Deal and PastaQueen, and I've concluded that I don't really have anything new to add to what others have already said and said well.

(Except maybe this: Given that more Americans are overweight than not, a store that can't sell a halfway decent plus-size clothing line couldn't sell ice water in Hell. Seriously: How badly did they mess up this marketing? Oh, and also this: Size six dress or not, I'm done with Old Navy. If they can't be bothered with me when I'm fat, screw 'em: I don't want to be in their stores when I'm normal size. They're entitled to make a business decision. So am I. And if I decide that Old Navy can go pound sand, that's my business.)

Instead, I thought I'd take a moment to praise a store that does seem to value its fat customers: Dress Barn.

Poor Dress Barn. It gets no respect that I've seen online, particularly not from me. I treat the place as so hopelessly uncool that if it came and sat at my table at lunch, I'd probably pick up my tray and move. Maybe it's that Groucho Marx "I don't want to belong to any club that would have me as a member" syndrome coming through.

Honestly, it's the name. I still have trouble getting past That Name. I hated lugging around the big pink bag labeled "DRESS BARN" when I was really fat, and I'd do what I could to be sure the store logo on the bag didn't show. It made me feel too much like a setup looking for a punchline.

Anyhow, Dress Barn doesn't have the hip, trendy image that Old Navy does, but you know what? It's always been there for me. (Well, there was that time when I was so fat that I couldn't even fit into their plus-size stuff, but really, that wasn't their fault.)

Dress Barn doesn't keep the plus size department a secret, or relegate plus-size shoppers to the Internet where they don't get to try things on before they buy. You go to the store entrance and there's Dress Barn Woman to the left, Dress Barn Misses to the right. Perfectly straightforward.

And having had plenty of experience with the clothes on both sides of the store, I can say that the plus sized clothes have been equal in quality to the regular line. That's not always a good thing, mind you -- the quality of the clothes can be uneven, to put it mildly -- but for better or for worse, the average girls and the fat girls are getting pretty much the same thing. I have a couple of DB shirts that have lasted for two years. They're big on me now, but they've held up nicely to lots of coffee spills and washing.

And really, the clothes aren't bad there. Sure, there's some hideous eye-bleeding crap, but guess what? That's everywhere. I know I talk up Urban Outfitters a good bit, but good lord -- I wouldn't be caught dead in 98% of their stuff. (Yeah, yeah, I know -- I'm an old fart and it's not meant for me. But I wouldn't have worn it when I was in the target age group, ok?) Some of Dress Barn's stuff is a bit on the pricy side, but they have decent sales. It's always a go-to place for me when I'm looking for acceptable "Buy the same shirt in several different colors" tops for the office.

So I think I'll stop picking on them now. Anyone else have any favorite stores that do well for women of all sizes? (Extra points for stores that have a decent in-store plus line; this whole "Fat women shouldn't get to try on clothes like the average girls do" thing really pisses me off.) Despite what Old Navy seems to think, I know it can be done.

Six!?

My husband got a brand-new wide-angle lens for his camera. He was snapping this picture this morning and said in all innocence "Wow. It's neat to be able to get your whole body into the picture."

And then, after an awkward pause, "I probably should have said that differently, huh?"

Me: "Oh sure. 'Yeah, Nicole, it's great to have a lens big enough to get your entire big fat ass in the frame!' "

But I knew what he meant.

So is it stupid to buy a dress you don't particularly like ... because you just LOVE the size tag?

Let me back up.

My husband and I took a "mental health" day off from work today and went into DC to see the cherry blossoms on the Tidal Basin, something I've never done even though I've lived here pretty much my entire life.

The good news: We got there very early and were able to stroll around the Tidal Basin without encountering too many other tourists. Which was nice, because the sidewalks along the waterfront are a lot narrower than I realized, and I don't know how there aren't people falling in the water left and right when that area is busy. Between big families walking side by side and people wielding giant SUV-sized strollers, there's not much margin for error on those paths.

The bad news: We didn't have a lot of company because it was horribly cold. It figures; after a week of fairly warm temperatures, things started going downhill yesterday afternoon. The wind this morning was brutal and relentless, the very special and talented kind of wind that manages to blow straight into your face no matter which direction you turn. We toughed it out long enough to walk around the entire Tidal Basin, with detours into the World War II Memorial and the Jefferson Memorial. By the time we got back to the car, we'd already ruled out a trip to the zoo. I think my ears would have frozen and snapped off if we'd done that.

We didn't want to go home so early, so we ended up riding out to the outlet shops in nearby Leesburg. After buying myself a pair of soft, comfy PJs at Dress Barn, I peeked into the Old Navy outlet. I rarely find things I like there, but once in a while I'll get lucky.

I'm starting to get good at "eyeballing" clothes and guessing what will fit me. And they had a rack of dresses and skirts that looked loosely cut. Even though I giggled at myself as I did it, I grabbed a size 8 skirt; it honestly looked like it might fit. I laughed even harder when I grabbed a loose-waisted size 6 sundress to take into the fitting room. What the hell, I figured. I already doubted they'd fit, so if they were too small it wouldn't be a big hit to the old ego.

They both fit. Okay ... the size 6 dress is a little snug in the chest, but with a better bra under it, it'll be okay.

The thing is that I didn't particularly like either item. And yet I just couldn't bring myself to put the dress back on the rack, although I did give the skirt up. I walked back to the display twice. I just couldn't surrender it. I mean ... size 6.

I finally justified the purchase by telling myself that the dress will be the absolute perfect clothing item on one of those hellish summer days when it's about 100 degrees out with 200% humidity and I want to wear something that touches my body as little as humanly possible.

It's odd; I haven't lost any significant weight lately. March was a rough month for my eating and exercise; the cold I had really messed everything up. But I've been lifting weights much more regularly, and I think my body is in one of those periodic rearrangement phases where things start shuffling around like tectonic plates. I feel smaller again.

And even though I can make the usual disclaimers that I know the size 6 isn't typical for me and I've got ranges of every goshdarn size up to XLs in my closet, I also have to admit that at this point, I'm accumulating a nice little collection of things with small sizes on the tag.

Have a great weekend.

Size Small, the Second.

Back in August, I nearly fainted dead away in shock when a size Small skirt I tried on at Dress Barn as a lark actually fit me. (I bought it. I still wear it a lot. Sometimes I still peek at the size tag, just in case the skirt's decided to take it back and turn itself into an L.)

Friday night at Target, I was desperately trying to find some decent and reasonably inexpensive workout clothes. I'm tired of schlepping around in oversized T-shirts and baggy, too-big pants when I'm at the rec center.

Question: When the hell did exercise clothing at Target get so expensive? I realize that this is relative -- what's "expensive" for Target is "downright bargain basement" if you're leafing through, say, the latest Terry cycling wear catalog. But I was having a hell of a time finding anything decent that wasn't at least $20, and often $25+. Has it been like this for a while, or have they jacked up the prices temporarily to take advantage of people making exercise resolutions for the new year? Sheesh.

I ended up browsing the clearance rack and found a T-shirt for about $5. The hitch: It was a Small. But I held it up against myself, and it appeared to be a roomy Small. What the hell, I figured. It was five dollars. And it wouldn't kill me to get back into the mindset of "It's okay if it's a bit snug. When I lose more weight, I'll fit into it." That was pretty much my mantra through my first year and a half of weight loss; it really helped me to maintain my focus.

And the shirt fits. It's just a tad bit snug, but not obscenely so by any means. And yes, I know that Target often vanity-sizes stuff out the wazoo. Even so, having a second item of clothing with an S on the tag gave me a much-needed boost. Three years ago I'd have been lucky to fit into a 3x from that store, vanity sizing or no. And wearing the small shirt last night actually stopped me from reaching for a chocolate bar. "You want to keep fitting into that, don't you?"

(The shirt is ... well ... kinda ugly and tacky. It's got some sparkly logo about athleticism on it; I can't imagine myself wearing this to the rec center unless I wanted to get laughed right back out of it. But the size label pretties it up all nicely.)

Some of you said I should frame the size S tag from that skirt I bought last summer. I bet you didn't think I'd take you seriously, did you? Think again. I got a pretty little frame from CVS with fake diamonds and pearls all over it, and the size S tag now sits proudly displayed on my dresser.

And now the new size S tag is tucked into the top of the frame.

Party Girl 2006

So you might remember that last year at this time, I was consumed with finding the perfect outfit to wear to my company's huge and fancy Christmas party. We hadn't gone to the party in a few years; the last time we'd gone I was so fat that none of the nice dresses I tried on at various stores fit me; blah blah blah ...

I hadn't given my outfit much thought this year; I have enough nice dresses now that I figured I was bound to have something appropriate.

Last Monday night I was flipping through a Coldwater Creek catalog. Most of their stuff isn't my style but once in a while they'll have interesting skirts or dresses.

And then I saw this dress and fell in immediate love. I simply had to have it for the party. I couldn't picture myself in anything else. What to do? I could order it from the site but I'd pay a fortune in express shipping, and what if it looked like hell on me?

There was only one thing to do: on Friday, the night before the party, I went to a mall that just happens to have a Coldwater Creek. I didn't even know if they'd have the dress in stock (and calling to ask them would have just been way too intelligent for the likes of me), but it was worth a shot.

I headed to the back of the store, and there it was. I rarely get this lucky.

I bet they won't have my size. Whatever my size even is. They had a 12P (petite) and a 14. And a 16, but I resisted the temptation to take that one.

I bet it'll look horrible on me. Wrong again. I tried on the 12P first, and the minute I started zipping it up I knew it was going to be absolutely perfect, like it had been made for me. The velvet ribbon tie accentuated my waist; the bottom half skimmed beautifully over my hips without clinging anywhere and making me look bulgy. A saleslady came over and made a big fuss. She also told me that it's their most popular dress and that the ones they had out on the rack were the only ones they had left.

(She's lucky I'm not the kind of woman who freaks out at the idea of showing up in the same dress as someone else, or that news might have put me off.)

I felt like a complete ass spending that kind of money on myself this close to my birthday and Christmas, but I'd have felt worse leaving the dress behind.

As if to cement the fact that the dress and I were just plain meant to be, the woman at the register took $25 off, since with tax the price cleared $100 and qualified for the sale I didn't even know they were having.

Suh-weet.

By the way, if you like Coldwater Creek's stuff and are thinking of buying anything online, you should know that the measurements on their sizing charts are insane in the membrane. The low hip measurement they list for a 12P is 38-39.5 inches. Dude, I *wish* my low hip was 39.5!

Anyhow, here's a photo of me in the dress on Saturday night (click on the thumbnail for a bigger shot):

I turned up the contrast so the dress would show up more clearly; this is why I resemble Casper the Dressed-Up Ghost.

Yeah, the bare arms are the one feature I could have lived without. Oh well. When we went to the party, I took along a black feather boa I found in an antique store a couple of years back. I wore it wound around my arms and left a trail of black fluff wherever I went. (I will never be able to commit a crime in that thing.) I figured it'd conceal the arms a bit and also give the dress a dash of Nicole style in case someone else showed up wearing the same thing. Which nobody did.

Now I just have to think up a few more occasions to wear it.

The Dress, Finally.

So this is kind of the Former Fatty dream, isn't it? You get all glammed up and wear a gorgeous dress and sashay down some runway-like setup in front of friends and family who haven't seen you since you were in your Before days. Out of the corner of your eye you see at least one relative do a double-take as you walk down the aisle and she realizes who you are. The only thing missing as you parade around in your formal finery is some slow 80s-style ballad to complete the mood. Like you're Ally Sheedy after Molly Ringwald pretties her up in "The Breakfast Club".

Then again, that scene always pissed me off. I liked the pre-makeover freaky Ally better.

And while it was lots of fun to dress up in satin and pearls, I have to admit that on the whole I'm a leather and lace and boots kind of girl.

Anyhow, the wedding went well. I did not get sick after all, thank God. We pretty much hit the ground running from the second we arrived in the town where the wedding was held, so I'm grateful that my body managed to stave off whatever it was that was ailing me.

Want to know something unbelievable? We got literally hundreds of pictures of the wedding, and I haven't found one single decent full-body shot of me in The Dress. ARRRRGH! I meant to have my husband take one, but between the pandemonium of getting to the church and the bedlam of the reception, I guess we never got around to it.

I ganked one of the only full-length shots I could find off a relative's site (hope he doesn't mind). It's not stellar, but click on the thumbnail and you'll get an idea of what The Dress looked like on me:

We got some very good shots of my hairdo, at least. I've never had my hair done for a wedding before. I went into the salon thinking about a simple updo and told the stylist to pile it up near the top of my head. An hour later, after lots of blowdrying, hairspray, backcombing, and 35 bobby pins (I counted when I was pulling them all out!), my crazy wavy hair had been transformed into this (click on the thumbnail for the full-size photo):

It looked purty, though I think the back of my head still has a sore spot from all the pulling and pinning that went into that look. The hairdresser was so tickled with her work that she took pictures of me, something I don't think has ever happened to me before.

And yes, I have to admit that lots of people gushing about how beautiful I looked went straight to my head. I'm only human. I could almost forget that I feel like I've been treading water weight-wise for a couple of months now. I've been getting back on track this week, just in time to go up to Connecticut for the skating competition next week and dine on lots of icky arena fare. Sigh.

Wow.

First of all, thanks so much to everyone for all the kind and supportive and insightful and amazing comments on the previous entry. (And thanks to Nicole for the link. I think my blog got more hits last Thursday than it usually does in a month!) That entry was something I've had rolling around in my head for a long time; I just didn't manage to get it into a semi-coherent form until last week.

I really enjoyed hearing from all of you, and I'm pretty sure I have fodder for a couple more entries on that topic; some of the comments brought a few memories out of my mental murk.

But that'll have to wait until I'm feeling introspective again. Today I'm all about the extro-spective. Why?

I took the day off work so that my mom and aunt and I could go shopping at a local outlet mall (and at Wegmans, a totally amazing grocery store that's like a foodie megalopolis). It was Mom's birthday treat. While they looked around the Williams-Sonoma outlet, I decided to check out the clothing stores. I've become a shameless clotheshorse since losing weight; I think I must be overcompensating for the years when I mixed and matched the same three skirts and T-shirts (or sweaters, depending on the season) over and over because clothes shopping was a humiliating ordeal and I preferred to avoid it whenever possible.

I headed for the Dress Barn; I despise that name but I've had good luck finding decent office clothing there. I've had my share of Bad Fat Moments there too, though. A couple of years ago I had a "Holy shit -- everything in the plus-sized section is too small" experience at the same store I visited today; I finally bought a skirt that was too tight on top, reasoning that I could wear it with a long shirt so that nobody could see it clinging to my rolls. That was just stupid. I didn't even like the skirt and never wore it -- by the time I discovered it lurking in my closet last year and tried it on again, I'd already shrunk out of it. But I was determined to buy something just to reassure myself that see? I really wasn't too big for the plus-sized clothes. I guess I had a lot invested in kidding myself.

Oh, and then there was the time I went to a Dress Barn in DC and a lovely salesgirl took it upon herself to bray "WE HAVE WOMEN'S SIZES OVER THERE!" across the store at me loudly enough that people in Alaska were probably saying "Women's sizes. Over there. Got it." This was back in the mid-1990s when I didn't yet fully grasp that I'd graduated to those sizes again, so that was pretty damn embarrassing.

Today's experience was much, much better.

When you walk into the store, the plus sizes are off to the left and the regular old Misses sizes are off to the right. I've never even been in the right half of this particular store for fear of getting "helped" by another loudmouthed salestwit, but today I strolled in there without a second thought. I quickly found a cool leopard print skirt with a lacy black hem. I had it in my head to be daring and try a Medium, so naturally they had it in a Large and a Small. D'oh.

For pure entertainment purposes, I took an S into the dressing room along with an L. What the hell, right? I'd woken up feeling thin today and I figured that if nothing else, I'd see how close I was to fitting into the smallest size. The skirt had an elastic waistband and seemed fairly loose and flouncy, so I tried the Small on first.

And then I stared at myself and twisted around to see my back view in the mirror and trotted out to the three-way mirror and turned this way and that way and twirled and then gawked a little more until my brain finally accepted what my eyes were telling it: The Small actually fit. It was perhaps a bit snug around my hips, but not obscenely so. I sat down on the little seat in the dressing room. I could still breathe. Nothing ripped.

I didn't start to sniffle the way I did last August when I had to ask a saleslady for a size L skirt because the XL I'd tried on was too big, but I squealed as discreetly as I could.

(And then I took the skirt off and checked the size tag to make sure there hadn't been some mistake.)

Please know that I realize that this skirt is an outlier and that I am not even remotely "small" yet. Not even close. I also tried on a size 10 skirt that was much more narrow and fitted, and I ended up with the super-attractive "Too tight around the butt and belly and too loose in the waist" look. And I still take an XL from some companies. Yay, women's sizes -- gotta love the predictability and the consistency, yes?

Be that as it may ... I don't know how long it's been since anything with an "S" on the size label has fit around my ass. I actually thought the skirt was a bit overpriced for its quality, but there was no way in hell it wasn't going home with me. Not a chance.

I think my poor husband was baffled when he came home from work and I accosted him, waving the skirt like a flag and yipping "Look at the size! LOOK at the SIZE!" I modeled it for him and he confirmed that it did indeed look fine.

And although I'd made a decision to stop being such a horrendous slob after the great clothing tag excavation of June, I've tucked the size S tag into my dresser. That one is worth saving.