fat, fat fatty fat

Why... why does my scale continue to mock me? I eat well, and not too much, I just got a kick A$$ jogging stroller and am dutifuly running up these godforsaken hills. T and I do yoga and keep food diaries. And yet... there's a wedding in the offing (not mine) and I can't fit into ANY of my vast and admittedly over the top collection of pretty frocks. Ah well. I'm sure I can squeeze my bulk into a leopard print muu-muu.
I'm not enjoying my... erm... bazzooms. To quote Sugar in Some Like it Hot, "Clothing just doesn't hang well on me."
Ah well, the world should have my problems.
But still! My C scar aches and pulls when I'm working out... I wonder if that's normal. Thank god for Pilates, at least there is an Ab down there somewhere. And Lionel is an excellent weight. I can work my pecs, triceps and biceps. I get on my back and heft him in all sorts of ways. He seems to like it, and my arms need the workout. He's progressive too. As he increases in weight I increase my reps. Pumpin' baby!

LL Cool baby

He's getting very smiley. Cute, cute, even at 6am when I long to still be asleep. Still can't get his grin on film, tho.Lionel is preparing to play Tiny Tim.... 'cept at the rate he's growing he'll be six feet tall by the time he's the right age. He's wearing 9 month old clothing. He is heavier than a bowling ball. And he has his Daddy's extremelly loud and resonant voice. Especially when I'm late with the chow...
I've had some auditions lately and, man, it's nice to be in the game. Plus, I got paid a whole 55¢ last week for pay TV rights of an episode of the Unit! WhooHoo! Now I can afford formula for LL!
Hey, Wanna see my reel?
Let me know if it looks really lame or takes too long to load.
BTW my episode of "Brian" was on and... I almost missed me completely. OY.... grateful for the money, but so much work and trouble and struggle to get there, find a sitter, drive to Burbank... and the part could have been performed by a monkey.... although I guess that could describe most of my work.
T is playing (was coerced into playing) a Filipino pianist in a musical that he wrote some songs for. WTF? He's six foot two and whiter than a sheet of xerox paper, but HEY...
It's musical about the Bataan Death March... uhhuh... Hmmmm....

Breastfeeding is for the birds.

Wish I could love it.
Mostly I feel like a Sizzler buffet.
I am reading a book that is 1300 pages long, and Lionel is frequently in danger of being crushed.
last night I was B-feeding, reading and eating chili. I look down and L has chili splotches all over his onesie.
Bad Mommy!
This morning it was cracker crumbs in his hair.
Big ones. the chihuahua had to get them out.
At least he's sort of sleeping through the night. And he doesn't seem to think I'm weird.
He likes piano music a lot, and rock and roll, and he saw his first play last week and went to his first art opening tonight.
He was looking fine in his track suit.
Most of the people at the art opening looked askance at the baby. maybe they thought he would spit up on the paintings? Mostly he slept, but he liked the mirror balls.
I think the kid is pretty cute... dunno how it happened since daddy and I are sorta meeskite.
Doesn't he look like a rap mogul?