twenty-nine and five

Who's the worst blogger? Oh, I think it's me. I talked up my dress and then never showed anyone nuthin. I had the most wonderful birthday week. It was last Monday the 31st, and I've just had a nutty week ever since.

For my party, I made a reservation at a local pizza place because a) who doesn't like pizza? and b) it is affordable, and c) I don't have to do the dishes. Its a very casual place, but I was all dolled up. I started to feel insecure about it. Really irrational thoughts. What if all of my loving and caring friends walk in and see me trying to look pretty and they scoff and say well who the hell does she think she is? This is a jeans kind of night. So I decided to kick that doubt to curb, and my husband helped talk me down. Because if I'm turning 34, and I've worked very hard to lose 66 pounds, I have a right to wear a nice dress and snappy shoes on my birthday - even if the chances are high that I'll spill marinara all over them.

So without further ado...

I love, love, love that dress more than I can tell you. My hips aren't that narrow, they just appear to be, as my friend Spanx helped me out that night.

And look, my shoes match my red eyes!

I love these shoes! Ever the gracious hostess, I met every guest with a hug and then I would squeal "Look at my shoes!" It is interesting how I was nervous about calling attention to myself. I wanted to look hot, I wanted to feel pretty, and I did, but weird how even though I was walking into a room of love, I started having those second-guessing thoughts, as though I didn't deserve to look that way. Maybe it was just because I was at a casual place? Dunno, but my doubts were washed away soon enough. And I realize that posting these photos may be screaming "Compliment me!" "Tell me I look pretty!" - and you don't have to. I am proud of my losses so far, and I am proud of how I looked that night, and that's enough. You may however, compliment the shoes, because they are shiny patent leather and sassy!

I do regret that I drank a gluttonous amount of wine. For calorie sake, and for coherence sake. I woke up with a headache the next day. But I didn't embarrass myself (or so I've been told). However, I don't regret eating the birthday cake that one of my friends made me. Chocolate, with a dark chocolate and cognac buttercream. To. Die. For. It was so delicious!

On Sunday, my Mom took Mr. Black and I to the Glass Museum where we got to watch glass blowers in action - very cool. Then we had a fabulous meal at an Argentinian steak place. It was heavenly. The week prior to my birthday, my consultants wanted me to work on the weekend. Both days. I told them that Sunday was out of the question, and if they wanted me Saturday, I would be there in hot rollers, and fairly surly. I begged a co-worker of mine to fill in and she did. Phew! I had wanted to take the afternoon off on Monday, but we had major deadlines so I couldn't. I had joked that I wanted a parade if I was working on my birthday. (Yes, I am obnoxious about my birthday - it is my favorite day of the year) And then I felt like a jerk when one of my consultants brought in a balloon bouquet and hats and noisemakers, and arranged my team to parade past my desk. Oh, it was hilarious to see my nerdy math people being silly and so kind to me. I then felt terrible about complaining about working. Suffice it to say, I was spoiled rotten on Monday. I am a lucky, lucky girl. That evening I had dinner at a famed french restaurant, that was part of a promotion serving 3 courses for $30. And we ordered a separate starter, pomme frites a la canard - that's potatoes fried in duck fat, and served with aioli. It was fantastic, and worth every ounce I gained this week. I finished with my favorite dessert, creme brulee.

I came, I saw, I ate. I missed the HYC check in due to some other conflicts. And I haven't been commenting on other blogs as much as I would like to. Don't give up on me yet! I'm still in this thing. This week I'm having tabbouleh, pan-seared falafel and green salad for lunch this week. No more duck fat for me. That's what this whole lifestyle thing is about, yes? You indulge one evening, (or 5) and then you get back on the plan, man. That's all we can do.