I want to go to NYC.

I can remember the exact moment that I realized I was fat. I was in 8th grade and waiting for my mother to come and pick me up after school. While waiting for our parents some friends were talking about going to the cutest boy in our grade's dance birthday party – I was not invited. Just then, cute boy walks by and over hears the discussion.

"Jessica, you're not invited," Cute Boy says. "I don't want fat girls at my party."

There had been warning signs about my weight throughout my life. I wore a size 8 in women's at the age of 11, I had stretch marks on my legs and I was constantly stared at by adults and children my age. Somehow, it wasn't until that moment that I received affirmation.

Tears started to stream down my face as my "friends" giggled and walked away with cute boy leaving me all alone. I climbed into my mom's car and sobbed the way home. When I got home, I ate a huge piece of chocolate cake to make myself feel better.

Growing up in an Italian family, in the South, with a chef for a father, food was the solution to everything. We used to comfort ourselves, to celebrate our achievements, whatever the occasion, food would be there.

When I moved to Seattle I convinced myself I would live a healthier lifestyle. I joined a gym and exercised regularly. I kept watching the scale hoping for a change, but the cupcakes and ranch covered french-fries I'd eat after my work outs negated any effects. I felt completely miserable; I hated the way I looked.

Some friends at work asked me to join them at a Weight Watchers meeting and for breakfast one morning before heading to the office, admittedly the draw was breakfast.

Weight Watchers turned around my life. I started to eat responsibly and understand that my portions were out of control, that my eating habits were dismal. I stopped hiding from my roommate so I could eat another carton of ice cream and the cheese drawer. I started to feel good.

I hit my goal weight this year, and I look at pictures and can't help smile and think, "Wow, you did it. You really are beautiful." For the first time in my life, I know I'm beautiful and I could get to any cute boy's party.

Remembering You

Micah Bonner was an outlier in my life. Someone who sits in the background, waving his hands furiously every so often to get me to turn my head and notice him. Whenever I turned to look at him, he made me laugh and smile. He made me feel incredibly important. He took care of my best friend D, and took the edge of me worrying about her. He gave and gave his constant comfort and positive energy -- someone I can honestly say I never saw be negative. He was everyone's cheerleader. He demonstrated how to live.

One of my favorite memories of Micah was the summer before my freshman year in college. I had just moved back down from Boston and he was eager to hang out again.

After a long game of frolf, we went to a playground nearby his house and he forced me to do the spider swinging with him. I was hesitant to do it. I just knew it'd break.

I remember him saying "Just because you're getting old Jessica doesn't mean you can't have fun. Live, Jess, live."

I climbed on to the swing with him and sure enough it broke. We both tumbled into the sand beneath us, turned over and looked at each other and laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

In the more recent past I remember hanging out with him at his apartment talking about nothing. When the conversation turned to a serious talk about our futures he pulled out a clown mask. He put it on.

He turned toward me with a cool expression, lit a cigarette and smoked it through the mask. I started to smile. He said, "Now, Jessica, let's be serious. Do you think I'd make a good clown?"



Yes, Micah, you made a great clown. You made me happy. You made D happy. I will remember you always, as jovial and upbeat. Thank you for teaching me to take to laugh, teaching me to live.

May you forever rest in peace.

Rockin' weekend good times -- here's my picture book recap

I have to tell you I love weekends that feel long. This weekend has felt long enough (in a really good way) that I'm not dreading work tomorrow. I feel relaxed and happy, and ready to face whatever the work week has to throw at me. Let's run through the weekend...

C and I decided to celebrate our anniversary this weekend since we'll be busy for the next few weeks and won't be able to celebrate the real day. It was great, I came home and got ready to go to dinner and headed off to Carmelita's (http://www.carmelita.net/). An amazing vegetarian dinner. Mushroom risotto is one of my favorite things in the whole world. A comfortable, cozy and is ranked as the number five restaurant in Seattle. Friday was a beautiful day outside, so we decided to sit out on the patio to enjoy the crisp Seattle air. Here's just a few pictures of dinner:



Me



A heart C made out of the bread


C at dinner

After dinner we went to the Westin downtown and stayed on the 44th floor with an amazing view looking over the city. Here's what we got to look at:



Kind of you can see the lights from our apartment building. Pretty cool.


Me in front of it...


Us

On Saturday we headed up to Marblemount near the Skagit River to go camping with some of our friends for S's 25th birthday. I'm not an outdoorsy person by any means, but I really had a good time. The drive was ridiculously long, and if any of you know me at all, you know that I LOATHE driving. But, once we got there, I was really happy we made the trek. We hung out, had foil dinners, sat around a fire and burned things and sang songs. We saw a deer 10 feet away and it just sat there and stared at us, it was really cool. Here are some of the pictures from the night:





Singing...




...around the fire..






Hanging outtttttt...


Our campsite...

As we left we stopped to take some pictures of the scenery..



Ooo, pretty...the waterfall, not me.



C in front of the waterfall.


Lots of pictures to remember a great weekend.

Goodnight.

Tomorrow's weigh in is looking bleek

The binge from this weekend still hasn't burned off and I'm looking like I'll be up tomorrow a few pounds which I think might knock me out of maintenance. DANG IT. I'm going to a dinner meeting with a client tonight at the Seattle Yacht Club which can only really mean one thing...the food is probably drowning in butter and sauce and points. Ugh. Eating well is hard.

Where's my kitkat...I'm hungry.

I hate my sofas.

They seriously are the most uncomfortable things ever. The bar is stabbing into my back so much it's ridiculous. My cousin is staying with us for the entire month of July and I wanted to get a new couch before, but I don't think we're going to. Seriously...look at this death trap:



It's just waiting to kill me. Okay, I'm taking my cat for a walk....don't ask.

Oh good things...

I remember when I was 10 my mom told me that I should think of things each day that I am grateful for and write them down to give myself perspective when things feel rough. Well, things don't feel particularly rough right now, but I think perspective is always a good thing. Here's some things that I loved about today:

* I'm up a couple lbs up from a horrible binge eating weekend, but I'm still 30ish lbs less than I used to be.
* I went to the gym today and every machine I wanted to use was open, like it was waiting for me.
* Today was a sunny day in Seattle. I love that.
* I figured out how to make a 4 point PB and J and it was literally the best thing -- EVER.
* I was cleaning out one of my bags today and I found a fresh pack of Big Red. I love Big Red.
* My cat is the sweetest, most ridiculous thing ever.
* That C and I got to have lunch today together.
* I mastered the art of mashed potatoes without dairy. 1.5 points per 1/3 cup.
* That I found cute pictures on my camera from this weekend that I forgot about....so enjoy.



Me and C out with friends on Friday night.



My friend W and her boyfriend M.






Just shameless pictures of me at C's dad's house this weekend.

Anyway, just wanted to share the good things. I'm off to bed.

Life if better if you go through it laughing...

I've decided to change my attitude, become more positive and cheerful. Now, if you flip through my blog you'll see I've made this decision on numerous occasions, but this time I mean it. I'm for real. No, seriously.

I've allowed myself to be too easily influenced by seemingly negative events, or let other people's bad attitude play into mine. I'm not going to do it anymore. I'm not going to allow other people to make that decision for me. Because you know what? It's mine. I am choosing to be happy, so take that you big toucan face.

Now that we're moving forward and being positive and having a good laugh I've decided to move into this phase with a sweepstakes entry. At first I thought "They're never going to pick you, you don't have what it takes to win." Now that I'm being positive I decided to change the 'tude to "You're amazing. Enter to win. You're born a winner..." er something. Here's the contest:

http://www.weightwatchers.com/templates/marketing/Landing_1col_nonav.aspx?PageId=1050551

Yesssss...free trip to NYC and shopping spree here I come!

More positive news to follow. But for now, I'm taking my upbeat self to the gym! A place I love but haven't gone for two months. Being too much of a Debbie Downer, I guess. No more! Rain Fitness love face, here I come!

Goaaaaaaaaaalllllllllllllllllllllll

Well, it's official. I reached my goal weight. 31.2 lbs and 4 pants sizes smaller, here I am.




And from the other side:




I had a nice celebration yesterday. I got home and C had made me a cake out of the WW 1 point lemon cakes that I love. Here's what it looked like:




I lovvvedd it. See:


Oh happy cake:


And flowers:



It was lovely. Very lovely. We cooked out, ate a delicious veggie burger and relaxed. It was a great way to enjoy the new me.


As a recap here's where I began:



Not a huge difference but I certainly feel great.

Major Anxiety

It hit me really hard. Anxiety attack to the max. I feel like a crazed loon. I'm not sure why exactly, I know everything will be okay, but gosh I feel like a freak. I all of a sudden feel the need to second guess every decision I've made in the past 24hours....like everything is going to come apart at the seams. I can't explain it...my hands are shaking...so weird. Maybe I drank too much diet coke. I have had an awful lot of caffeine today. Maybe that is it? I don't know. Okay..calm...even...calm.

I made stupid comments to my client, I feel like...stupid comments to my bosses, all of them. I just feel like a jack butt. Okay, Jess. Cease and desist on the diet coke bevs. Lord...I'm all kinds of shaky right now. Okay, I need to go to bed. WW is in the morning.

Goal weight, here I come.

A sigh of relief

Admittedly, I've been really stressed about the economy. My mom told me "Jessica, get over yourself, what are YOU going to do about it?" Truth, I can't do anything.

I can just read little tidbits that keep me from freaking out...because I feel like I'm the fat of a steak right now that could be shaved off at anytime. Here's what the department of labor had to say about the PR industry:

http://www.bls.gov/oco/ocos020.htm

Granted, those predictions were drafted two years ago, but this release made me feel a little bit better.

http://www.prcrossing.com/lcpressrelease.php?id=250297

I just need to know I'm okay for now. I mean, once I get to be a Travel Channel host everything will be okay, right?

It's exhausting to be Southern

Here's a truth I never thought I'd admit out loud, let alone in cyberspace where it will remain for all of time...ready? Okay...here's the absolute truth: I love being Southern.

Many of you probably aren't surprised, since moving to Seattle it's been a fact I've often boasted with pride. I like it, I love it I want some more of it..okay, no more country music I swear. But, growing up and even going to college in the South I rarely wanted to admit to being from there. I always wanted to be from somewhere else and people would say to me, "How come you don't have an accent? Why don't you act Southern?"

Proudly I'd reply "My mom is from Long Island, my dad is from Boston, if you got a problem you can stick it up your (*@*&#*(I said that in my best Boston/NY accent, which is pretty good if you'd like to give it a listen). Anyway, I loved it. I really did. Looking back I completely realize why I did it, because I do it now. It is great feeling to boast being from somewhere else.

I think my reasoning is two pronged:

1. People always look at you like they can't figure you out because their mind is a cluster of stereotypes "Well, shucks, that girl can't be Southern she's got shoes and all her teeth!" Whatever, I love it. Keep looking at me crazy because the truth is, I can't figure myself out either.

2. It's a great excuse for weird behavior. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I drink all your moonshine, it tasted just like my momma makes." Okay, that's a really poor example, I can't quite think of anything off the top of my head.

It was a strange thing for me growing up in the South in a household where we had anything but standard Southern practices -- sweet tea was rarely in stock, until I acquired a love for it in college, and I can't remember *down home* cooking going on of any kind. I didn't wear big brimmed hats as much as I would have liked and my drawers weren't darned with white lace gloves (I still wish they were), we didn't go to church. We were very much a northern family seemingly stuck in the South.

When I got into college, as much as I hated coming back from Boston (where I finished out my senior year) only to go to the University of Alabama, it was almost instantly that I fell in love. The institution is rich in tradition and I immediately wrapped myself up in its pride. I moved on to the University of Alabama at Birmingham an continued in Southern style. I joined a sorority, equipped myself with pearls and a dresser full of sorority tees and spent time with my sisters planning weddings and eating tea sandwiches. I loved every single minute of it.

I moved here and I fell into the role of being Southern -- hospitality oozes out of my pores all over the place and I have to tell you, it's super exhausting. I've always been maternal, I've always wanted to take care of my friends and feed them, but I brought it to a whole new level. I'm bleeding out sweet tea here and I have to tell you, it's started to make me unsweet.

Don't get me wrong, I love entertaining, I love having guests, I love playing board games and having friends come over. It's just a lot of fun. What I don't love is the financial impact that comes with it. Call me crazy, but our economy stinks right now and I don't want that to be the reason I've spent all of my cash once the "depression" hits. It would be idyllic to entertain my friends and have them come with everything I need to keep them happy -- the food and the wine. And I'll sit back, giggle, put on a big brimmed hat and some white gloves and work on
looking Southern, instead of just acting like it.

...the real truth...

I spend most of my time hating myself. I feel sick about myself a lot of the time. One day, maybe I'll be okay..that day is definitely NOT today.

Reality TV

Reality television is a true phenomenon to me -- people giving up their lives, their own reality, to watch the lives of others that claim to be more interesting than them. Pulllleassee.

It hit me when I was on the phone with my mom last night that much of my life as of late I've been living in black and white, become an observer like many Americans that hunker down on their couch each evening watching American Idol, America's Next Top Model, Real World, Sweet 16 or whatever else. What a freaking waste of time, but admittedly I myself love the worst show of them all -- Real Housewives of New York City. Puke. Get a life, Jessica.

And so I am. I'm changing my life to color. I don't want to waste my time on the couch dreaming about how I wish my life was more like the Kardesian girls(which, I don't wish that at all, but whatever). I'm bright and animated enough to be my on reality television show, I want my life to be active enough (not in a drama filled way) that people want break out the popcorn and sit and watch me live.

Instantly after this realization hit me last night I thought how I could make this happen, how I could become better and more interesting. Naturally, I logged onto the Amazing Race Web site to see where to sign up, but it doesn't appear that they're doing casting at this time and honestly, I'm a vegetarian I don't want to eat bugs. Ew.

It's been my dream to be a Travel Channel host, to tool around fabulous far off places and find the off the beaten path hot spots in Laos or Egypt. How do I get there? How do I break into a technicolor life? Whatever the answer, I'm going to spend the time it takes break out of Pleasantville and start my own reality tv show -- starring of course, me.