Saturday, February 23, 2013

When boys should be quiet.

Oh, this is a touchy post to write. I actually asked Mac's permission to write it, since he is a big part of it, and I want to respect him. Usually if I do a post about someone else, I'll ask their permission. It just seems appropriate.

Speaking of appropriate, if you read this, consider it a lesson of what NOT TO SAY to a female.

Last Saturday, Mac and I were at the mall, exchanging a few items. I went into VS to replace a bra, and while I was in there, I decided to look for some skivvies. (I'm totally blushing as I write this.) Well, VS is a great place for people of all sizes on top. Everything from a 32AA to a 40DDD they seem to have. The bottom half of a female... not so much. Not to mention... I've taken a pole. 5/5 women say VS's underwear runs small. Ok, no big deal. Go a size up. Except they basically stop at a large for the bottom. Basically, they're saying that you can be Dolly Parton. Um, most people aren't shaped like that. And I was already a little frustrated, as I kept seeing thongs that were "one size fits all." Seriously? I don't buy that, for ONE SECOND. Scarves can be one size fits all. Not thongs.

So I go meet Mac as he's coming out of Gamestop, where he was trading games in. I tell him about this, and say that it's just a little frustrating for me, because I actually think I'm somewhat proportioned. Not desirable proportions, but they're kind of even. Well, Mac, being the helpful husband that he is, decided to be, um, helpful.

Mac: Why don't you try shopping at like, Lane Bryant or something?

Megan; Jaw drops.

**Uncomfortable silence, but Mac doesn't know it's uncomfortable.**

Megan: Um, no. I don't really think I need to shop there. That's a store for bigger women, and I'm not quite there, I don't think.

Mac: Oh, look, I just think their models are really hot.

Megan: Then why do you have a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit calendar hanging in the laundry room instead of a Lane Bryant catalog?

Mac: They're just meatier, and that's sexy!

Megan: Mac, those models are a size 8, that's considered a plus size model, which is bs. Again, I do not think I need to shop there. VS should have a bottom that can "match" the top.

Mac: Well, where does Kim Kardashian shop for underwear?

**I am thinking where the @!@#%#@%#@$^#$% are you going with this?**

Megan: Excuse me? (Mac is petrified of these two words, he knows it means trouble.)

Mac: Well, she has a sizely ass, so where does she get her underwear?

Megan: Please do not compare me to Kim Kardashian. Her curves from the front are good, but she's not proportionate.

Mac: Well, isn't she like a super model?

Megan: Um, no. She is trashy.

Mac: Oh, well can I say Jlo?

Megan: Yes, JLo and Beyonce are always acceptable.

The rest is a little bit of a blur. We left the mall, where may I remind you that I did NOT create a scene, and went home. I was pretty quiet, which men should know... women are always scariest when they're quiet. Quiet is NOT GOOD. Naturally, to beat a dead horse, I had to try to explain to Mac how he unknowingly insulted me. He just didn't understand, and kept thinking that Lane Bryant is comparable to Casual Male Big and Tall. Allow me to tell you, it is not. I wasn't necessarily mad at him, I was just kind of shocked. Again, unknowingly, he didn't realize the damage he'd done.

I've since told other females about this, and fortunately, most of them backed me up with their reactions. I don't think they were lying just to make me feel good either. They were genuinely shocked that a) Mac suggested this, b) I didn't strike him and c) I didn't run away crying.

Of course, there is nothing wrong with shopping at Lane Bryant. They have lots of clothes, and allow women who have fuller figures to dress professionally. Their models are gorgeous. Nothing wrong with the store, at ALL. I just do not want to shop there, and it is a very, very personal opinion. The biggest problem I have with this whole situation, is that Mac didn't just suggest I go up a size, he suggested I go up a STORE. And trust me, boys: Girls never want to go up a size. Even a girl who's a size 2 may not want to buy a size 4. So, please don't even suggest going up a size. We don't want to hear that nonsense.

I feel like if I went to Lane Bryant it would be admitting defeat. It would be me giving up on the clothes in my closet, the clothes from my favorite stores (Gap, Banana, Loft and Target), and I'd be giving IN to buying bigger clothes. I am technically not a big boned person. I'm not tall. I'm just overweight. While that's bad, it hasn't stopped me from shopping at my favorite stores. And I don't want to give up on my favorite stores, or the sizes I'd like to be.

** I proofread this aloud to Mac, as he's afraid of how his character will look. He interrupted a couple of times, defending himself. I told him to please be quiet. Men: Should you find yourself in such a situation, please be quiet.

** My weight was the same on Friday, but when I went to weigh in with the school nurse for our biggest loser competition, she told me I had lost a pound and a half. Alrighty then.

** My sincerest apologies if I have offended anyone with this post. It was hard for me to write, as it's such a touchy subject. All of the statements in it are my opinions, not judgments.

Friday, February 15, 2013

I broke my fall.

My weight's been fluctuating, but I listed my weight on Wednesday, bc that's what I think it actually is. We are doing a Biggest Loser contest at school, and according to the nurse's records, I lost weight. It's a nice confirmation, even though the first time I weighed with shoes on and the second time I weighed with shoes off. I think I lost weight regardless of the shoes.

Anyways, this post is about how I broke my fall.

The day was Thursday, February 14, 2013. A great, chilly night for a Valentine's Day date. After meeting in the parking lot at Columbia Mall, exchanging presents, and seeing the ultimate romantic movie ("A Good Day to Die Hard"), Mac and I were walking to our cars. Two people obviously in love, crossing the street outside of all the restaurants and the theater. Well, you know I had to make this beautiful moment even better, so naturally, I did. Unbeknownst to me, there was a sizely hole in the sidewalk, and it sent me tumbling backwards. I waved my arms backwards, like opposite butterfly, and went boom, boom and boom. I fell on my tush, shoved my right palm down behind me, and my spine rolled back on the pavement, with the head lightly touching the ground. "Shit!!!"

I laid there, very confused as to what happened. Mac came right down to my face, saying, "Baby, are you ok?" Four guys standing outside Champps asked if I was ok. I kept cursing at myself, and I apologized profusely, to everyone and no one in particular. My lovely lady hump was in pain. My hand hurt a lot, but it wasn't bleeding. Mac pulled me up, and I pointed to the hole in the sidewalk, as if to say it wasn't my fault. I wasn't drunk! I wasn't in heels! This is absurd! I shouldn't have fallen!

We drove home to continue our romantic evening by ordering Mama Lucia's pizza and watching the Caps game. I realized something on the way home. I broke my fall. No, literally, I broke my own fall. I don't drink milk, so I can't blame good bones on that. I can blame my padding. Actually, I should thank my padding. If I wasn't so, um, "voluptuous" (ha), I could have probably done some real damage. My tush is bruised and so is my hand, but I'm 100% ok. No broken bones, no sprains or strains, nothing. Except of course embarrassment, and completely shock and confusion to falling down, on my butt on Valentine's Day.

So, Happy Belated Valentine's Day everyone. I hope your day was as romantic as mine, and I hope your body is as good to you and mine is to me.

Sunday, February 10, 2013

Fast Food

disclaimer: This post has a very graphic picture and graphic details in it. Suitable for strong stomachs.

When I was little, my mom would take us to McDonalds every once in a while for a treat. It was a huge treat, and I always got a kids meal, with mcnuggets, and then we'd go to the playground. I even went to birthday parties at McDonalds, and no one seemed to mind or judge the fact that we were eating fast food. It was a treat. And if you ask my mom, she thinks the food was made better back then. I tend to agree with her. At any rate, it was very seldom. That's the only fast food that I can really remember eating as a child.

Occasionally on Friday nights we'd order pizza as a family, or my dad would bring home stromboli from Philly. Nom nom. We didn't eat out much at all, we almost always ate at the kitchen table, and nights like these were considered treats.

After I graduated from Elon, I ate more fast food than I'd care to admit. It was easy, it was on my way home from work, and it was cheap. The flavor was there. The quality was not. I still got the same meal from McDonalds. Chicken nuggets, fries and sweet and sour sauce. Every once in a while, I'd bite into a nugget and get something that didn't quite feel like chicken. A couple times, I'd stop going because I knew what I was eating wasn't good. I'm by no means a "clean eater," but I also don't like mystery meat. I eat processed foods (mac and cheese), but these occasional bites would throw me off of the fast food chain. I'd go back, a few months later, and love the flavor again. Let me remind you though: the quality was not there. The fries, well I think those are tough to mess up. The nugget quality wasn't there.

I even started reading "Fast Food Nation," which people swore would make you stop eating fast food. Yeah, it seemed gross, for sure, but I didn't finish the book. I wasn't in a particularly good place emotionally while reading the book, so I'm sure that stopped me from finishing it. I was having trouble concentrating. At any rate, something eventually took away my love for the nugget about two years ago. A picture went viral, and I haven't eaten a nugget since. Haven't eaten at Taco Bell. Had KFC once. Chick fil A a few times. (I like to think the quality is better.) I can count the times I've had McDonalds fries on one hand in the past two years. This is the picture that did it.

Articles all over the web slammed McDonalds for using THAT to make nuggets, hamburgers, etc. Is it true? I can't prove it. But whoever sent that picture out got the job done. I haven't eaten a nugget since. And real life experience with the mystery meat in the mcnuggets left me confidant. No more meat from McDonalds. I would tell anyone to stop eating the meat from that place. The picture scarred me, and I think I'm better for it.

Again, I do not strive to eat organically, I snack on processed foods, I clearly don't have a perfect diet, but at least I'm not eating pink slime.