I like to think of myself as a relatively intelligent and educated individual. No, I do not understand much in the way of math or science, but I do know a fair bit about literature. I often display some common sense (though, I just as often probably display a lack of common sense as well, but who doesn't, right?). I can get many clues on the New York Times crossword puzzle, especially if it is a Monday--the other day I even got the word "porcine" right! I was proud!
Despite all this, I have fallen for advice that was unwise. Back when I lived in Chicago and we could get reception on our TV without paying for cable, I indulged in watching Dr. Phil after I got home from work. In my defense, Bil was living in a separate town at the time while I was finishing up the school year at the high school where I taught. I was basically alone with Danny (who was an infant) from 3:00 until the next morning when I went to work. So, to fill the silence, I watched way too much trashy TV. I even watched reality shows, which I actually seriously dislike. I still think of shame of the hours I spent glued to America's Next Top Super Model. Please don't judge.
OK, back to Dr. Phil. I should have known better to follow any of his advice, but at the time, I was even more naive than I am now. I mean, I actually thought that when the time came to potty train, I could follow his protocol, which promised results in one day. Yes, in 24 hours, I too could have a fully potty trained kid. I am totally considering suing him for false advertising. Instead of monetary compensation (which I do think I deserve) I would only want him to take both my beautiful children for a week and return them fully potty trained. Not too much to ask, is it?
But this is not really the advice that I rue listening to. No, that advice comes from the weight loss book he wrote years back. I don't even remember the name of it, but yes, I did purchase it with my hard-earned money. I bought the hype that he could vanquish my weight problems for good. I should have known he had no idea what he was talking about when he said that once you got used to skim milk, 2% doesn't even taste good anymore. Yeah, as if. Just like frozen yogurt tastes better than real ice cream. What kind of dream world is he living in, anyway?
Oh, right. L.A. Do they even sell full-fat dairy products in L.A.?
I know I am rambling here, just stay with me. One of Dr. Phil's pieces of advice is that once you lose weight you should get rid of the clothes that are too big. He claims that if you don't have "fat" jeans to fall back on, it will help keep you from gaining the weight back. So, after Charlotte was born, I lost quite a bit of weight--all the pregnancy weight, plus at least 20 pounds more, so much of my clothing was too big. So, what did I do? I purged my closet and got rid of most of my big pants and shirts, feeling proud that I was guaranteeing that I would never weigh that much again.
Then, the week after that, I had a fun weekend where I fell off the Weight Watchers bandwagon, never to reembark again, and I gained back those 20 pounds. Lovely. I then got pregnant and put the whole weight loss thing on the back burner, while enjoying much in the way of full-fat dairy products. The baby needed lots of calcium, right?
So, now here I am about 8 pounds left to lose to get back to my pre-pregnancy weight. Not too bad--I am actually doing better with this weight loss than with my other pregnancies. The problem is, that even though I have shed a lot of the baby weight, I still cannot fit into most of my clothes, even the biggest sizes in my closet. I am still wearing maternity pants, but the shirts are just too big, while my regular shirts are too small. So, basically, I am living in my maternity sweat pants and Bil's t-shirts, which is fine until I want to leave the house.
The worst part is that I remember some really cute clothes that I gave away, per Dr. Phil's instructions, that would totally fit me right now and get me through this phase. I so do not want to shell out money for a pair of jeans in a size that I am determined not to fit into in another month. What was I thinking? Why didn't I just pack the clothes away with my maternity jeans? The only thing I can blame is my own hubris and stupidity.
The only thing for me to do right now is go eat the last chocolate chip cookies on the counter and worry about this later. I don't really have anywhere to go anyway, right?