My friend Jen was getting married and I wanted to give her something handmade. This was solely because handmade gifts are more meaningful because the maker had to pour time and work into the product and not at all because I’d already spent money for a plane ticket and hotel reservations in DC and wanted to give her something inexpensive.

Thus, Mr. and Mrs. Butterstick were born! And betrothed! And hitched! Damn, that was fast. Butterstick is the nickname of the panda that was born at the Washington D.C. zoo a few years ago. Jen watched the panda-cam obsessively after the little bear was born, so a gift of Mr. and Mrs. Butterstick presenting her with a butter plate seemed perfect.

I started Mrs. B two weeks before the wedding and was halfway done with her body when I realized, “Crap, this bear looked a lot smaller in the photo.” For the next two weeks I crocheted as fast as I could, ran out of black yarn and had to go on crafting expeditions for black felt and lace and sparkly beads for eyes – but thankfully every piece was finished, stuffed and sewn together by midnight the night before the wedding. Whew!

If you want to make your own Mr. & Mrs. Butterstick, follow the Lion Yarn Free Crochet Pattern for Felted Penny the Panda. You have to register to download the pattern, but it’s all free. I didn’t felt my pandas. I just crocheted them and put all the pieces together.

From the optimistic, “What’s that hanging around my cloud? Oh, it’s a silver lining” perspective, it’s cool to know that I can maintain my weight by doing what I’m doing right now. I know there is a lot of debate in the fatosphere and the scientific community about whether people are genetically doomed to be fat or if you can do anything about it by manipulating your environment. I’ve only lived in my own body, so I can’t speak about anyone else with 100% certainty, but I know that when I show up and do the work, I get paid. Fifty percent of success comes just from showing up.

For example, I recently read an article in Newsweek about the social networking site Facebook by Kurt Soller. The lead sentence was “I have three fond memories from my senior year of high school: the day I got my college acceptance letter, the day I graduated and the day I joined Facebook.” My first thought was, “Wait up, how old is this guy? We didn’t even have Napster yet when I was a senior in high school. Facebook is only a couple years old.” For a second, I was jealous that there was someone much younger than me writing articles for Newsweek. But then I thought, “Well, PastaQueen did you ever apply for a job at Newsweek? Did you ever try to get a journalism internship? Did you even study journalism?” The answer to all these questions is NO. In fact, I rarely ever read Newsweek. Upon deeper reflection I doubt an oddball like me would find any satisfaction working at a weekly news magazine for any other reason than to brag about it to other people. The reason I don’t work at Newsweek is because I never showed up. I never tried to get a job there. I didn’t do the work. If I did try, I may or may not get a job there, but we’ll never know because I have no intention of ever doing that. However, when it comes to weight loss I have done the work. I do show up. I haven’t lost much weight in the past couple months, but I haven’t gained any either. I know that for me personally, if I show up and do the work then I can maintain my loss.

My biggest problem lately is that I have been overeating in the evenings. I have been hitting the yogurt really hard. Live bacteria cultures beware, PastaQueen’s coming to get you! And then she’s coming back for your children! I’m not sure why I’ve been doing this, but my best guess is that exercising in the mornings makes me hungrier in the afternoon. I’ve thinking about eating a bigger breakfast and lunch to compensate. For the past week my strategy for stopping the evening pig-outs has been, “Well, just stop doing that,” but that strategy has been as effective as the troop surge in Iraq. Last night I cooked two pork chops, one for dinner and one for tomorrow. I got my Tupperware container out to put the other one away, but I took a bite out of it before I put it in the tub. Then I took another bite and another and hey, I’m almost done so why don’t I just finish the whole thing? I’m very good at rationalizing, but it’s very hard to justify a two pork chop dinner as a boon for weight-loss.

My best excuse is that I exercised a lot yesterday. I lifted weights in the morning and did Pilates when I came home. Then I decided to run 3-miles because it was so nice out, like Disney movie beautiful with the sun smiling at me. I half expected to run into an animated dragon at the second mile marker who would offer to be my friend. This means I exercised for at least 90 minutes, which is pretty much the limit for what I’m willing to put into fitness on a daily basis. I’ve read that some people exercise 3-4 hours a day to maintain their weight loss, but honestly, I’d rather be a bit chubby than to move that much. I’m willing to try a lot of things to lose weight, but if there’s a line, that’s it.

I will admit though, I have not been pushing myself as hard as I did back in the early days. When I moved here last year I would walk for an entire hour. Granted, I probably burn as many calories running for 35 minutes as I did walking for 60, but I could definitely push myself harder. I’ve gotten comfortable and I need to break out of that comfort zone. I’m reading about running plans and I’m going to make an effort to start training harder, especially since I’m running a 5K in two weeks.

Since my weigh-in numbers in my sidebar haven’t budged much lately, I decided to try for a quicker mile time. The fastest mile I’ve ever run is 9:30. My leg has been feeling much better this month and I’d prepared my body by running 3-4 times a week for two weeks before attempting my high-speed dash. Last weekend I gave it my all and sped down the trail from stone mile-marker to stone mile-marker, dodging dogs on leashes and couples holding hands without breaking through them Red Rover style. When I finished, I looked down at my stopwatch and it said:

Aaaarggh! Exactly the same number as my last best time. Nine minutes and thirty seconds. Well, at least I didn’t lose any speed when I took July off to heal. But damn, I would have loved to at least gotten 9:29. Next time I’m going to run the other direction down the trail because it’s slightly downhill. Time was not on my side, but next time gravity will be.

In other exercise news, my final tennis lesson was last Monday, and honestly I was relieved. I really suck at tennis, y’all. Which is probably funny for other people to watch, and humbling for me since I’m naturally good at other things, but I could not even serve the ball into the service box. Everyone else was getting much better than me and when we played games against each other I could tell I was dragging everyone else down. My hand-eye coordination SUCKS. It sucks so hard you can probably feel your face being pulled into the monitor right now by its intense vacuum force. You’re most likely reading these words with your right eye because your left cheek is stuck to the screen. There were times balls would pass right by me and there was no excuse for missing them. All those years I avoided team sports and athletics I also avoided creating the synapses and neural pathways in my brain that taught people how to hit moving balls. I’m sure if I practiced a lot (if I showed up), these pathways would be formed, but I’m not crazy enough about tennis to bother. I’m glad I stepped out onto the court, but in the future I’m going to avoid team sports because I prefer to just compete against myself. One of the reasons I like running is because it’s idiot proof and I only have to beat myself, not some ultra-marathoner.

And if all else fails, there’s always aerobic wedding dancing.

My dress was green but did this cool shimmering thing in the light that gave it a red sheen, which doesn’t show up in the photos at all, so you’ll just have to take my word for it. You can’t tell from these pictures, but in the hotel photo my straps are beaded and in the limo photo they are not. Why is this?

BECAUSE I HAD A FASHION EMERGENCY!!

I had successfully put on my dress and walked out to the car in my open-toed shoes that delightfully showed off my pink toenail polish. However, when I opened the passenger’s side door and leaned over to put my purse on the floor I heard a SNAP! Then my right strap went slack. Then I said some naughty words. In my fatter days I sometimes had concerns about splitting tight pairs of pants, but I’d thought my days of possible wardrobe malfunctions were over. Alas no, the wire holding the beaded strap to the front of the dress broke. It was just like that time Kelly Monoco’s top almost came off during Dancing with the Stars, only I didn’t have a live studio audience and I wasn’t doing the samba.

Miraculously the beads stayed on the wire and I was able to hold the strap as we drove to the church. Thankfully, we had expert help on site. My mother is a professional seamstress who carries a sewing kit in her purse. She carefully analyzed the situation in the lobby of the chapel. First we tried sewing the strap back onto the dress, but there wasn’t enough wire left to do so. We considered just tucking the straps under my dress at my armpits and going strapless, but I was concerned I might end up flashing the congregation during my reading from Solomon. Next we were thinking of attaching the strap with Scotch tape and safety pins and camouflaging the whole mess with my corsage, but as we looked at my corsage we realized the florist had provided us with a solution. There was a small white ribbon tied neatly around the stems.

Yes, my mother sewed new straps onto my dress in the lobby of the church half an hour before my brother’s wedding using only ribbon from a corsage and a sewing kit. She didn’t even charge me an alteration fee. If we had a video camera, I’m sure we could use footage of this incident to get her an audition on Project Runway.

After that, I made sure to sit up very straight and not bend over. I made it through the ceremony without flashing anyone, though I broke the left strap while bouncing around to “Shout” at the reception. Luckily, my left beaded strap was still in tact, so I just slipped on the spare from underneath my armpit and all was well for the rest of the night. And if my spare straps had broken, I’m sure we could have fashioned a whole new dress out of the tablecloths and napkins.

The most remarkable thing other than my impromptu alterations is that no one said a word about my underarm flab. In fact, I got lots of compliments about how good I looked. So girls, don’t fear the sleeveless dress! I’ve got baggier underarms than 99% of the population and it was no big deal. You don’t have to live in fear of the strapless dress, just the fear that your dress will become strapless.

However, sticking in that rider at the end wasn’t that much better because people kind of freak out when they learn how much weight I’ve lost. After I told one girl, her eyes popped out of her head and we had to crawl around on the carpet to fetch them from under the couch. Then we had to wash them off because they were covered in cat hair and carpet lint and some weird gunk that I don’t even want to think about. It’s rather odd telling people I’ve done this unusual thing and then getting all this praise for it, especially since I don’t like to brag or boast. I’d rather not mention it unless directly asked. I also wonder, “Well, what if I hadn’t lost the weight? What would you be saying to me then?” By that point in the conversation I felt so odd having all this focus and praise centered on me that I didn’t even want to mention that I’m writing a book too because then I’d have to change my name to Braggy McBoasts-a-Lot.

After a couple of these conversations I started contemplating introducing myself as a “health and fitness” blogger since then I wouldn’t have to explain the weight loss. However, I decided ultimately that would be deceptive because the driving force behind this blog has always been weight loss. Even though I write about food and fitness, it’s ultimately about being fat and about getting not-fat. So, I stuck with the “weight-loss blogger” line, even though I felt vain and self-centered every time I mentioned it.

However, two weekends ago during my brother’s wedding and all the brunches and dinners that accompanied it, I felt a bit differently. All of my brother’s and sister-in-law’s friends are smart accomplished people. So many of them are getting PhD’s that I think there’s going to be a consonant shortage. Some of them are already doctors who poke around in people’s brains or call security to hold down the crazy mental patients. Some of them can talk about image modalities and appear as though they actually know what they are talking about. And I think one of them is even in a band. They are all very cool, interesting people, but as I was sitting at the rehearsal dinner I couldn’t help thinking, “Thank God I lost 200 pounds and got a book deal or else I’d be feeling rather inferior right now with my Bachelor’s degree from a little-known college with an odd name.” In fact, I felt really secure about myself. I didn’t have to worry about fitting in the folding chairs and I didn’t have to worry about justifying my existence or proving that I was doing something worthwhile with my life. It was really nice. I was able to just enjoy the weekend without having to constantly reevaluate the validity of my life. If this event had taken place three years ago I don’t know if I would have survived without hiding in the bathroom for periods of time long enough to bring into question the caterer’s health standards.

It made me think, maybe weight-loss is not entirely vain and self-centered after all. It’s not all about having a cute butt, though I fully support everyone’s right to a cute butt. Losing weight is a really hard thing to do and there is a great sense of accomplishment that comes from ditching the extra pounds and keeping them off. I might have shrunk, but I’ve grown as a person. I sometimes think people get too excited over what I’ve done, but it’s understandable why they do. And even though I’ve come so far, there’s still a lot of room to grow. A lot of the wedding guests are happily married or own houses, neither of which seem to be in my near future, but they might be someday. It was cool to see all the different things people were doing with their lives. There really are so many things you can be. After conquering the weight, I feel like I could conquer anything at all if I really put my mind to it. That’s the best thing about weight loss, more than the size 12 jeans or the guy at the library who called me a “pretty lass.”

So yes, I am a weight loss blogger. And I’m damn proud of it. (But I’ll try not to brag.)

I did not request this, it just happened. Of all the possible rooms on three floors, I ended up about 4 feet away from the treadmills and stair-climbers. I woke up early Saturday morning, got dressed and stretched in the dark so I didn’t wake my mother, and stumbled across the hallway. There were two treadmills, but the first one’s power key was broken in half, so you couldn’t turn it on. I turned on the TV and got on the second treadmill and walked for about 5 minutes to warm-up. Then I pushed it up to 5 miles per hour to jog for about three minutes. Next I decided to throw in some one minute intervals where I would ran as fast as I could until I felt like “throwing up a lung” as Skwigg would say. I pushed the speed up to 6.2 miles per hour, making sure I located the “stop” button first in case of an emergency, and started plowing full speed ahead for about 5 seconds until –

The power cut off.

Suddenly the TV went dead and the lights on the treadmill went out. I tried unplugging it and plugging it back in, but neither device would turn back on. I must have tripped the power circuit. The fitness room could not handle my athletic prowess. The circuit breaker was obviously not up to the demands of an elite athlete such as myself.

So, I got on the cycling machine instead and did about 18 boring minutes to silence since I’d killed the TV and forgotten to bring my headphones for my MP3 player. I got a lot of additional exercise in at the reception that evening, which was totally kickin’. I was boogying out on the dance floor for a good portion of the evening and broke a spaghetti strap on my dress while raising up my hands to “Shout.” You know you’re not having fun until you have a wardrobe malfunction. Actually, I probably had too good of a time because my right knee is hurting again, but you’re not supposed to mix ibuprofen with alcohol, so I had to wait until the next day to take anything.

I will post pictures of me in my dress, but I didn’t get any good shots of myself, so I’ll wait until someone sends me some to post. A lot of people did say I looked great and I don’t think all of them could be lying. I certainly had a good time, which is far more important than looking good. And big congrats to my brother and my new sister-in-law!