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Taking Care of It, and by It, I Mean Me.

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      So for those of you who read faithfully, you know I missed writing last week. And this is because on that Sunday, life hit me like a freaking truck. Much like that scene in Pet Semetary, when that little boy was hit by a truck.  Except, in my case, all that was left was a blood filled stiletto instead of a tiny sneaker. Anyway, dark, but appropriate.  Happy Kalie vs. Depressed Kalie       And frankly, I should have known that it was coming, since my post two weeks ago was about being so happy. My life hasn't changed that much in that time. Things are still good. But like the seasons of life, depression also comes in waves. And I should maybe expect to experience lows after high highs. Yay, Persistent Depressive Disorder!         Anyway, all that being said, once I identified that I was experiencing a depressive slump, I leapt into action. Well...not really leapt, because I was depressed, but like I forced myself out of bed and tried to figure out a way to take care of
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I'm Proud of Myself When I Make My Mom Snort

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    This week has been....well, really great. And surprisingly, the fact that I am at 196.2lbs is the least satisfying part of it all. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled; weighing that much at this point mean's I'm on track to get around 190lbs by the end of August. But literally so many wonderful things are going on!       I got a job that I'm really loving (fingers crossed that it sticks). I'm getting to reconnect with wonderful friends who love me. Things have been going great with family too; I've got a movie date with my dad today to watch the new Annabelle movie! We may even go ride the water taxi tonight, and I'll get to be DD...       My teeth look whiter, I got a hair cut I love, I'm finally understanding how to contour, I'm reading a good book, and my relationship with God has more life than it has in awhile, I taught my dog a new trick, I made these excellent stuffed jalapeños the other day, and I recently got my nails done. So yeah...
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Time to Jump, or at Least Fall With Style.

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     So to start off this blog post, I would like to announce that I have officially made it under 200lbs, weighing in this morning at a stunning and sultry 198lbs! That's right folks! The curse is broken, and we are moving forward with my vision of being a bookish, brunette, Marilyn Monroe meets Christina Hendricks type, with stiletto nails and tattoos; add a little Jesus in there, and you've got my ideal self portrait. To all of those who have been reading faithfully and sending me prayers and encouragement, thank you and please don't stop. My best friend Jocelyn and I, on a Tuesday.      So very recently I was with a friend at the gym and we were talking about things I want to do before December; if we've talked intimately, you know that 2017 has been the year of going to live events. I've been to several plays, and I've got some concerts coming up, though, due to financial circumstances, I didn't get to do my original "one-a-month" goal. A
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That B@$%ard in the Candy Cane Forest

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     Did anyone else play that board game Candy Land? You had to draw cards and bring your little gingerbread people through all sorts of candy themed biospheres, meeting sugary characters, some of them more sketchy than others. While I've got your attention, I'd like to send a shout out to my girl, Queen Frostine, the baddest b*tch on the board. Note the cold dead gaze.     All the characters were interesting, but there was one I will never forget and probably never forgive. That freaking Mr. Mint. You all know him! He was a tall, red and white striped creeper with dead eyes and he hung out in the Candy Cane Forest.    The reason I hated Mr. Mint was because, when my family sat down to play, at least five times a game I would get to the Candy Cane Forest and then that sadist would send me back to the Sugar Plum Patch at the beginning of the board. It was like I had a target on my forehead and Mr. Mint had a peppermint sniper rifle.      I used to have nightmares about
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Kickboxing, But Not Beating Myself Up.

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     This week has been hectic. Most of it has been spent in New York, as my family got together to bury and celebrate the life of my late grandmother. That being said, getting the chance to regroup and write this from my own bed has been wonderful. But now that I'm home, it's back to the reality of eating right and hitting the gym. After I finish writing here, it will be a breakfast of eggs and then off to that lime green and purple sweat shop by my house.      But before I go, I want to talk a little more about why I'm doing this; the spirit of the process so to speak. And to do that, I will start by telling you a couple of stories.      Once Upon a Time, when I had managed to lose all that weight before, I walked into a church on a Sunday morning. I was standing around, as church goers do, and sipping my water, watching the hustle and bustle of people getting ready for the service. It was then that I was suddenly surrounded by that beloved and ever waiting group of p
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200 lbs Flat

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       This morning I woke up late and, wrapped in a blanket, walked to the scale. It was that time; I'd been eating healthy all week and was really looking for that number to generate on the screen. My breath wasn't coming in tight gasps, as it did in a time before I had made friends with the scale. But there was still an energy of expectation, of hope, and of nervousness.        When I weigh myself, I stare very closely at my face in the mirror above the scale; making eye contact with the person I'm learning to love and giving them a pep talk about self worth in the time it takes for the numbers to calculate. Taking a deep breath, I looked down... and there it was: 200.8lbs. That meant I could finally start writing. I had hit the goal I'd set, the reward being this blog.        My weight and I have been in a constant dance, since I was very young. And I must admit, she was a dance partner I hadn't learned to get along with until very recently. She was large an
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