Wednesday, March 27, 2013

The pocket test and the Easter dress

Well, I officially lost two pounds at my school's biggest loser challenge, although my scale stays the same. I also shattered someone's dream when I told her that the results weren't real. The nurse told me I lost 4 pounds, which would be great, if she hadn't had us all weigh with our shoes on the first time. So I took off my Danskos, which I had worn the first day, and they weighed 2 pounds. Ergo, I only lost two pounds. Well, this poor other teacher weighed her shoes, and discovered she had only lost 7 pounds instead of 9. I sure did burst her bubble. Oops.

Anyways, the pocket test.

There are at least two males (who shall remain nameless for protection) who created a "pocket test" almost ten years ago. According to one of the guys though, he alone came up with it while standing in line at a sandwich shop in college. The pocket test is a non-verbal test on how back pockets fit a girl's derriere.

Here is how you pass the test:
- Jeans are preferred. Test will not work as well with dress pants or khakis.
- Jeans should always have back pockets.
- Jeans should not be bedazzled.
- No faux, half or tiny pockets. A hand should be able to fit down into the pocket.
- Size of derriere doesn't necessarily matter, but how it is shaped does.
- A "shelf" of some sort is preferred.
- Entire pocket should fit on the cheek. No sagging.
- Typically, the bottom of the pocket will be at the bottom of the cheek.
- Do not have a flat bottom. You will fail if you have a flat bottom.

Here is your quiz... which of these pictures passes the test?





The answer is......................


Next, the Easter dress. Sometimes fitting into clothes one year after I've worn them feels like a victory for me, since I had so many years of just gaining weight. So for Easter, I am wearing the same dress I wore last year, and I am actually very excited about it. Success, if you will.

Happy Easter and dear bunny, please bring spring!

p.s. You have no idea how many bad images I had to sift through on google before selecting those four options.

Wednesday, March 6, 2013


I am somewhat random. Scatterbrained. I bring up things at awkward moments, I disclaim and justify EVERYTHING, and I often have very quirky thoughts running through my head. (re: nesting doll bridesmaid reference a few posts ago)

So this post will contain some more of my random thoughts pertaining to my insulation.

1. If we lived in olden times, I'd be considered wealthy, and all those skinny bitches would be considered poor. ;)

2. The "waif" look of 90s models (and some current ones) scares me, and it's hard for me to look at them. I wonder if it's hard for them to look at me.

3. The other night I walked into REI. When I'm in there, I envision myself as a tree-hugging cyclist who likes to camp, hike, run, kayak and swim. I always leave inspired to do all those things at ONE time.

4. The huge problem with walking into REI is that it is next to the Chinese restaurant, and I had fifteen minutes to waste until my crab rangoon was ready. Huge fail. I should have thrown out the crab rangoon and bought a pair of hiking boots, a backpack and a tent.

5. I miss swimming a lot.

6. I've had a couple people ask me to do 5Ks between now and summer. I'm kind of excited, but a little intimidated too.

7. I am "hippy." During my first year of teaching I was teaching a 7th grade class how to mark time, which means marching in place. We were prepping for the Christmas parade. One girl, in all seriousness, asked me if when they marched, should their hips swing back and forth like mine? I told her no, but just wait. One day they would.

8. I can still touch my toes, which I credit to doing "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" with little kids.

9. When I walk in heels, I scare myself and anyone around me. To say I'm a "heavy walker" is putting it nicely. I walk like a damn elephant.

10. My dad is an excellent golf coach. He is very patient, and he explains everything really well. Several years ago, we were at the driving range (one of my favorite places), and he kept telling me I was "lifting up." No shit, I missed the ball. Of course I lifted up. He had me move closer to the ball (I was learning with my new clubs, and I had originally practiced with his, which were too tall, but they were better than Frannie's, which are seriously cut down). I moved closer. I had a lot of trouble keeping my arms straight. He kept telling me, "Megan, you've got to straighten your arms." I kept telling him I couldn't. We went back and forth for a few minutes before I flipped, yelling, "I can't straighten my arms anymore, Dad! My chest is in the way!" He walked away and smoked a cigarette.

11. I keep fighting with the same three pounds and it's pissing me off. :)