Mirror, Mirror, Who is that in the Mirror?

I'm not going to lie to you. I've always hated mirrors. I never see what I want to see. I never feel what I want to feel. I just look and think, "oh well' ... I'll go on a diet and then I'll "look" better.

Isn't that what we think its all about? How we look? I've spent most my life being vain worried about how I look. I even had "Halloween Pants" for years. What the hell are those? This one pair of black pants that I would put on each year to measure my "worth."

Luckily, more years than not, they fit. I have no idea what happened to those pants. Pants that determined my worth should have had a ceremonial burning of some sort.  I wish I had those "Halloween Pants" now ...  Burn Fuckers, Burn!

How can a pair of stinking pants have so much power? They didn't. I gave it to them. I tortured myself worrying about what people thought of me. It has always been about THE PANTS!

What kind of pants? "Magic Pants" ... The pair I thought I looked skinnier okay in. In black. I'd be  afraid they'd go out of stock so I'd buy a few pairs in 3 different sizes for those "fluctuations" in my self esteem weight.

So as I lost weight this year, I was putting on those "magic pants" until they all fell off of me as I shrunk and people started asking me where I got them. "Those are so cute!" Okay, what the hell happened? I'd worn that size those pants before. No one except me said they were cute. Truth is they were all of a sudden "cute" because the "magic" was that my shape changed.

So yesterday I passed a mirror in a store. I saw an image and thought, "Is that me?" I looked around to see if anyone was watching and walked back in front of the mirror. There I was in my shorts. I saw my front, my side, my front, my butt, my side. You get the idea.

It was me! I looked athletic. I looked strong and lean. I looked healthy.

I came back to the beach house and told Tim what happened. I told him how athletic I looked. He said, "I know." I told him how my shape had changed. He said, "I know." I told him how happy I am. He said, "I know." He always knows.

That mirror was a who needs "Magic Pants"moment. It's about being Strong and Healthy. It's about Feeling Good. It's about Loving Myself ...

Who was in that mirror? Just Me!

When in Belize … Chicken's Poop!

When planning our trip to Belize, there were many considerations of things we could do. We could snorkel, fish, sight-see or … go to the "Chicken Drop.” This is a little contest they celebrate on the island every Thursday night. You buy a ticket with a number on it and if the Chicken poops  in the square with your number about 200 people erupt in cheers and you win money!

Another great Lizzie idea. Jessi and I received an email asking us if we "might" want to add a “Chicken Drop” night to our activities ... Can you say "hell yes" and chicken dance?

The day of the Chicken Drop, Matt had Montezuma's Revenge and Jessi was bit by something and had a swollen face. With all of that, do you think you could keep us from making a Chicken Pooping event? No! Most of us made it. Jessi was on the mend, but not feeling well enough to go. We thought it was only one “drop” so we told her we’d be right back and off we went in our buggy ...

We found Wahoo’s Bar and a crowd of rowdy people and an enclosed platform divided into 100 numbered squares. We “que’d up” to buy a drink wager and realized there were 9 “drops.”  Contests 1-4 were sold out of numbers so we decided to wager on the 5th, which was also the Main Event. All the rounds were $1.00 bets for a $100.00 payout except #5 which cost $5.00 a ticket for a $1,000.00. payout.

Tim and I waiting for Contest #5 ...

I bought two tickets, #41 and #69. The chicken’s butt hovered over #41 over and over in it’s 15 minute strut around the board. The “Hype Man” who was keeping the crowd drunk rowdy kept saying that “number 41 was looking very lucky” and “shit was going to happen!” All the while, I was being humble jumping around saying “I’m going to win” while my inner witch cheerleader was head chanting “41, 41, 41, 41."                           

Look what happened ... Plop!

No Shit, I won!

I had to pick it up to collect my $$$.

My handsome Body Guard … $1,000.00 !!!

We couldn't wait to get back to our condo and tell Jessi that we won! Tim drove us back through town yelling "Chicken Poop" the whole way ... What a blast!