My shopping experiences sort of go like this: Hit the mall at the last possible minute. Pull the first three black garments off the rack I encounter in my size. Dart to the dressing room, get naked, try them on. If there’s no muffin top or glaring ugliness, I run to the counter with the least people and make like a shepherd and get the flock out of there. God forbid I have to shop for a dress for a special occasion. I will undoubtedly end up self-medicating with Ben and Jerry’s.

Shopping has always been a trauma for me. Always. And now that I’m not 300lbs, it’s still a trauma. There’s nothing empowering or even fun in shopping for me.

My business partner is a stylist, always fashionable, always well dressed. And it’s totally confronting for me. It’s not like she’s purposefully mean or terrorizing about how I dress but let’s face it, it doesn’t work for us to go into a business meeting together, her dressed to the Nines, and me looking schlumpy. We went shopping together recently. I browse through the racks, pulling out things I think she would think would be good for me, inspect them and put them right back. A half hour later I found one cute jacket and she had two arm fulls of items. Whoa, how the hell did she do that?

It’s at that moment, that I realize that I don’t know how to shop and the first problem is that I don’t know how to conceptionalize what a garment looks like on a hanger to what it will look like on me. When ever I go shopping, I’ll pull things off the rack and put them right back, thinking they would never look good on me. Hanging there with no definition there’s absolutely no way for me to tell how it’s going to look so I don’t even bother to try. And why? Because I have proof from thousands of trips to the dressing room that nothing looks good on me. I can’t even count how many times I’ve ended up in tears in a dressing room with a mountain of clothes at my feet because everything I picked made me look like a trashy ho or an over stuff sausage or simply didn’t fit. I’d really rather avoid that trauma thank you very much. I’ve come a long way in dealing with my self-esteem and body image, and fashion and shopping just brings me right back to being 16 and dressed in what I think is a pretty dress and That Boy saying “Look, your fat is exploding out of your dress. I’d never go out with you”. Whew, anybody got some Ben and Jerry’s for me????

Here’s another case in point – Melissa, one of the Gwynnie Bee stylist handed me the next item from my closet for me to try.

Seriously? You want me to put this on?

Seriously? You think THIS is going to look good on me? Um ooooookayyyy. I stuffed it in my bag, all thanks and smiles, totally dreading the moment when I’d have to mail it back and admit that I looked like the aforementioned sausage in it.

After I got home and had a glass of wine I was finally ready to summon my courage and try it on. After taking a moment to figure out how the ties worked, I slipped it on and stood in front of my mirror, eyes squeezed shut tight. Peeping one eye open like I was watching a horror movie, I was totally shocked that I looked good.

Gwynnie Bee was right! I look good!

It’s apparent that I have zero fashion instinct. Thank goodness I have people around me who have much better sense that I do! I just have to start trusting that.

I don’t think Fashion and I will ever be friends. Well, I don’t know if I can say that. It is the final frontier. Fashion is the last area for me to pick apart and tinker with and see what it means to me. I don’t think I’ll every be a fashionista, but hopefully my days of crying in a dressing room are over.

And FatGirl says: You’ve got to be freaking kidding me? You want ME to host a party? For a client? OMG no one is going to show up. I’ll be standing there, woofing down the brownies and cocktail shrimp and no one will be there. I have no friends and who in their right minds is going to come to a FASHION party hosted by a Fat Girl??? What drugs are you on? Seriously, this is so not going to work. I’m not social. No body likes me? OMG WHAT AM I GOING TO WEAR?????

At least the "What am I going to wear?" question was solved.

And that’s what happens when a crazy fat girl tries to plan a party. But thankfully I was saved by cooler heads and my inner FabGirl got to come out and play.

Thanks to Gwynnie Bee for throwing a really fantastic party, thanks to my friends who came and enjoyed the night. I’m actually excited for the next one! Stay tuned!

You know it's a good party when the house pup is pooped

My local Stop and Shop carries a full line of Silk products

And there are beverage alternatives to milk.

Bean Juice

I don’t remember when I first had soy milk. I’m pretty sure it was when I was in Asia as a child. When I encountered it again probably a decade later, it was familiar and delicious and had that echo of good memories. And soy milk has come a long way

I know a lot of people who object to soy milk being called “milk”. You’re right, it’s not milk but really, trying to market “Pressed Bean Juice” is a tough job.

Soy milk has come a long way in the past few years. When I first started looking at milk alternatives in the late 90s, you had to go to specialty health food stores. And it was only sold paper cartons and shelf stable (any food product that can sit on a shelf for a year sorts of freaks me out a bit). In the late 90s, you started seeing Silk, and later 8th Continent in the fridge case of most supermarkets. Now even Target has a whole case just for milk alternatives. And you’re not just limited to soy milk either. Soy has gotten a bad rap in recent years for a connection to breast cancer. The jury is still out on that one.

Silk in Target

So As I’ve been doing this detox thing and gone off dairy, I wanted to try out new products. I was actually kind of surprised by the choices out there. Silk, one of the most popular soy milk brands has branched out into almond and coconut milk.

Silk Cococnut

Silk Coconut may be my new favorite thing

I am a nut for anything coconut. Coconut water, coconut flakes, Mounds, Almond Joy, Thai style curries, if it comes from a coconut, I’m on it like a fat girl on a box of donuts. I was totally excited to try Silk’s Pure Coconut Milk. Now first, this is not the stuff you make curries out of or put in you Pina Coladas. The consistency is on par with milk and it has just the lightest hint of coconut taste. Douse this stuff on your GoLean cereal and it’s dessert worthy (What? You know I’m not the only one who has sugar cereal for dessert. Sometimes when I want a naughty treat, I get me a box of Lucky Charms and have a big bowl late at night, you know, in that Magic Hour of midnight when calories don’t count. Just sayin’). I did not test it out in my coffee however. Silk Coconut Milk was slightly sweet, 90 calories, refreshing and gives you the naughty feel that you’re having a naughty treat when you’re not. OH and holy cow, it rocked in my detox smoothie.

Silk Almond Milk

Nut milks are all the rage apparently. I kind of find that surprising considering the rise of nut allergies in this country. But I guess if you don’t want to do milk and soy isn’t your thing, almond milk is a fine alternative. Silk Pure Almond was way way different than Silk Soy or Silk Coconut. It was much thicker, much creamier, and well of course it had a nutty taste. When I used it in a smoothie with frozen peaches, and rice protein powder, I had to eat it with a spoon or risk it slumping out of the glass and smacking me in the nose like a ball of mushy ice cream. I had a glass of Silk Almond by itself. It was delightful in taste, creamy, rich, nutty, but not refreshing. It came really close to being a dessert all on its own.

Silk Almond and Creamer

Silk Creamer

OK, I’m fessing up. I did not give up coffee on this detox thing. I know, I know, coffee is the devil but if loving coffee is wrong, I don’t want to be right. I did cut down to a cup a day. OK, Fine, it was one GIANT cup of coffee but still. My schedule is really rough right now and I really didn’t want to face that sans cafe. I’m not a masochist after all. Well, actually, I could handle cutting out coffee if I lived on a desert island but me dealing with life without coffee would be cruel and unusual punishment for other people in my life. Best not to, you know, drive people to murder you because you are a raging lunatic.

Anyhoo.. So yeah, I’m still drinking coffee and yes, putting a dollop of full fat milk in it. For Week 2 of the detox, I figure might as well go completely dairy free and try out Silk’s coffee creamer. I might be a fan of coconut, soy and almond milk, but there’s something about coffee that makes the idea of milk alternatives in my coffee just totally unappealing. I don’t know what it is, maybe I just like my coffee creamy without being weakened by adding additional beverages. But I digress.

Silk Creamer did a fine job in my coffee. I didn’t even add any additional sweetener, as it has a slightly sweet taste.

Yup. I'm gonna get shanked

“You know Amy, one day, you’re gonna get shanked” says Lil Sis.

I just adore it when my tiny, curvy, blonde baby sister busts out with the gutter talk. She could have said “assaulted”, “stabbed”, “killed”. But no, she goes with shanked. Thank you endless Law and Order marathons.

So, I have a demanding schedule (translation: insane schedule) and I often find myself on public transportation and out and about town at odd hours (translation: I get home at 4am often). The good ole trusty Long Island Rail Road is great service for those living in the outer suburbs who want to come live it up in the Big Apple for an evening (translation: any train that leaves Penn Station after 1am is full of people who have had way too much to drink and aren’t wearing enough clothes).

Ah, the Drunk Train.

I find myself on the Drunk Train at least a few times a month. And ironically enough, I am rarely drunk. So picture this, you’re in a giant moving tin can with about 40 people who are loud obnoxious and ready for some action. Well, at least for the first 20 minutes until the gentle rocking sensation of the train induces sleep or puke.

Now, when I want to get all righteous and philosophical, I fancy myself a non-violent occasional Buddhist. Me and the Buddha are like, you know, Besties. The mysticism and mythology I find endlessly fascinating, and the core principles of Buddhism match nicely with my own world view. Besides, the Dalai Lama is just awesome.

You’ve got this image of the Drunk Train in your head, right? Now add a non violent occasional Buddhist to the mix and what do you get? No, not chanting. Try Drunken Frat Boy Fights with a non-violent occasional Buddhist in the middle. I don’t know what it is, but at least once a month or so, I find myself right smack dab in the middle of a tussle. Now, people are not getting aggressive with me (I’ll admit, some of you might find that surprising), but if I’m trying to get home after 1am, the chances are exceptionally high that I will encounter two or more knuckleheads wanting to throw down. I guess I’m just a lucky kind of gal.

So what’s a non violent occasional Buddhist to do in such a predicament? “Run screaming like a little girl” would be the obvious choice. I have the “retreat and while dialing 911″ move down like a pro. But every now and again, I find myself literally in the middle of the action.

A few months ago, I was on the Drunk Train, right in the middle of the car. I’m not going to dish the gory details of how the altercation began but let’s just say that one boy was rather offended when another boy questioned his manhood and sexual orientation. Naturally, they had to do the “I’m going to fight you now” chest bump thing, then OH NO, jackets were whipped off in a flourish which behavioral scientists will tell you is a sure sign some sloppy punches are going to be thrown. And naturally, they were both backed up by their rag-tag crew of best buds ready to crack some skulls. Now, this would be an excellent moment for the aforementioned “retreat and dial” maneuver. Except…

1. We were in a tunnel with no cell service.
2. They were standing right at the end of my row out my seats.

Retreat was not an option.

I knew if punches were thrown I’d be the one getting hurt. Drunken frat boys are not known for precision with their fighting skills after a 12 pack. So what to do? Well, my inner Fab Girl decides to break up with fight with the most powerful skill set known to mankind – sex kitten appeal.

I step right between them, all purring and licking my lips. I help one of them back into his coat, brushing off imaginary dust, all the while cooing in his ear about how sexy it would be if he just walked away because obviously the other guy is not as manly as he is. All the while, my hands are on his shoulders and chest, gently backing him up and putting space between the fighters. When there was about 15 feet of space and we were feet from the exit to the next car I said “God you know, its such a turn on when guy is so powerful and doesn’t have to prove it”. By that time, his friends had gotten control of the situation and were backing out of the car.

OK, fine, I was dressed in a plaid mini skirt with pigtails and there were like 30 witnesses in the train car so even a drunken frat boy has more sense then to beat down a school girl.

Upon telling the above tale to Lil Sis, she just shakes her head saying “you’re gonna get shanked”.

Ginger Snap Runs

Biz Partner: Hey, we have 4 hours before our flight… Let’s go for a run.

And FatGirl says:

What are you, freakin’ insane? I’m not running with you! You coached track in college. You free climb 50 foot cliffs BEFORE BREAKFAST. You train with the freakin’ Navy Seals.

Getting Dirty with the Navy Seals

There’s no way I’m running with you. You’re all svelte and skinny, leaping around like a gazelle. I bet you run so fast, you’d be a blur on camera with you spunky little pony tail swish-swishing.

So fast she's a blur

I’ll look all fat and slow. I’m totally out of shape. I am so not running with you.

Amy: Yeah, ok, a run sounds like fun.

First Annual FatGirl Birthday 5K

I turned 39 today. My Crazy Inner FatGirl has been running around like a lunatic these past few months. I woke up this morning to waffles and bacon, which was delicious, but then I realized, if I’m working today on my heath and fitness goal, when? If not now, when?

So I ran the First Annual FatGirl 5K. Participants = 1. And it was awesome.

FitGirl travels

FatGirl says: Ooo la la! How fancy! How chic! We’re off to San Francisco for business. I feel terribly important! OMG isn’t there a big chocolate factory there? Oh oh and Chinatown is supposed to have the best food ever! Three days of chocolate and dumping and no working out because obviously you can’t work out while on vacation. I wonder how much room there is in my suitcase for chocolate souvenirs???

Oh FatGirl, you’re going to be terribly disappointed.

I’ve gained weight. About 20lbs. I’m not happy about it but I can’t seem to shift my behaviors around eating and working out right now. FatGirl keeps raging in my head about “starting Monday” and “we don’t have time” and “finish just one more project” and “you worked hard today, just have a chocolate”. That’s totally not working for me. It’s not what I’m committed to and it’s not who I am.

While I was packing last night, I made the decision the I was not going to bring sneakers and work out gear. I didn’t think the west coast is ready for a fat girl running. After all, California is supposed to be full of beautiful people, and well, I feel fat and unattractive right now, no need to show THAT off in spandex running pants.

Then it occurred to me – this is the life I want to live. I want to be jetting off to different cities and making deals and being fabulous. Am I supposed to ditch healthy eating and a work out schedule just because a plane trip is involved? Then I looked at a map of where my hotel is and lo and behold, there’s a running trail right there that follows the coast line. How could I even think of missing the opportunity of running alone San Francisco Bay?

So I’m sitting in JFK, sneakers in my bag, sunglasses in my pocket, totally looking forward to jet lag that will have me up for a morning run. Now, THAT is how FITGirl does the west coast.

Here’s a Valentine’s Offer that with have your love life hopping!

Ginger Snap Works rocks Valentine's Day

FatGirl and FabGirl have tea before a night on the town.

FabGirl: So, we’re going out tonight, black jeans or a skirt and tights?

FatGril: No no, I’m staying in. I have a lot to do. {emergency cheesecake stands by}

FabGirl: Don’t be silly, of course we’re going out. It’s Valentine’s Day, we’re going to celebrate love… {wistful sighs and naughty eye sparkles}

FatGirl: No really. I have to update the virus protection on my computer and I have 134 videos in my Hulu queue, really I have too much to do {nervously eyes cheesecake, fingers twitch towards the fork}

FabGirl: We haven’t been out forever. Our friends miss us, and you never know, Dreamy McDreamy might just waltz into our lives tonight.

FatGirl: Yeah, whatever, that’s great but these pins will not just pin themselves on to Pintrest, you know. I’ve got stuff to do,  going out is too much work.

FabGirl: Stop being silly, we’re going to see our friends, have a fruity cocktail, dance a little…

FatGirl: DANCE?? DANCE?? You’re a freakin’ lunatic. Fat Girls don’t dance. Everyone will point and laugh. “Oh look at that fat girl. Get out of the way, she might squish you and can you believe she wore that? Fat AND trampy”. Look, I don’t want to have a boyfriend, I’m perfectly fine on my own. If I had a boyfriend, I’d have to lose like 50lbs before he’d love me anyway. He’d constantly be commenting on what I was eating when we went out to dinner and at some point, we’d have to NAKED together and who in their right freakin’ minds wants to be naked with me. No one wants to date a fat girl. Fat girls don’t date. When I lose the 50lbs then I’ll be happy and sexy and someone will want to date me. We’re just going to stay home and watch Once Upon a Time and it will be fine {forgets the fork, dives face first into the cheesecake}

To say that relationships have been an issue for me is kind of an understatement. I made some bad choices. No, that’s not really true. I made the only choice I could make at that exact point in my life with all the information that I had. I fell in love with a guy who, somewhere in him, was a nice person, but was wrapped up in his own pain that he couldn’t deal with his own emotions. No, that’s not really true either. I fell in love with the idea of the person I wanted him to be, thinking that I would then be the person I wanted to be.

And then that ended. Badly. And I gained 50lbs.

For a long time this is how I thought dating worked – be skinny, then you’ll be happy, then you’ll have a fun, sexy loving relationship.

But what if I could be happy RIGHT NOW. Right this second. Wouldn’t the result then be skinny and in love? I mean, after all who wants to be in love with a grumpy person who is also fat?

I had this revelation the other day. I keep throwing up reasons why I can’t date:

• I’m not at my goal weight.
• I don’t have the right clothes.
• I don’t have time.
• I just started a business, that’s more important right now.
• I really don’t feel great about how I look and don’t want to get naked with someone.

Then I was asked a very simple question: What are you concerns about being in a relationship? The answer is two fold. 1) Obviously I’m scared of getting hurt. 2) I’m scared that I could actually get exactly what I want and then I have to deal with that.

Whoa.

What if Mr. McDreamy were to enter my life today? What if I had to actually walk the talk and be a responsible adult and make room in my life for someone? What if there was another person on this earth who accepted me for what I was and what I wasn’t? What if there was someone who loved me for me? Crap. I’d then have to love me for me.

I started looking at the reality of my dating life. I get several offers a week from online dating sites from men who want to meet me. I don’t have a fake picture up there, and I think I actually have my true weight listed on one of them (none of that “I’m curvy” stuff). There are actually quite a few people taking the effort to email me with interest. And I’m shunning all that with a story about “I don’t have time” which is actually hiding “I feel fat” which is actually hiding “I don’t know that I can love myself enough”

Whoa.

And this all has comes about because that’s exactly what may be happening. A guy, we’ll call him The Frenchman, contacted me via a dating site. I made him jump through hoops to schedule a time for drinks. I was like a freakin’ Nay-saying Ninja throwing out all these impossible limitations. He deflected them all and made it work and we had a lovely night together. If I could create the perfect man for myself, the Frenchman comes pretty darn close. And it scares the pants off me.

I don’t know where this is going, but I’m ready to find out.