Get to work, bitch. (probably NSFW.)


I’m a little mad at myself for all of those days that I was just dropping one pound at a time, slowly going into starvation mode.  I’m going to go back to my original post about this in 2010 and adjust the recipe and make a note to drink enough calories.  I’m having about 2.5 bottles of lemonade at 300 calories each, plus two cups of organic chai (omg Margs have you been to the tea bar at Whole Foods?) each sweetened with a tablespoon of maple syrup.  Yeah, that’s a lot of syrup.  I deserve it and besides, if I’m going to stay away from Starbucks it’s going to be for some super sweet tea of my own.

I was awake from 4:30 to 6:30 this morning with my babies so Mr. Dogwood let me sleep in till 8:30.  The look on his face when I wandered into the kitchen with my bedhead and maternity underwear* sagging off my hips, carrying the dial scale so he could read my weight to me was all I needed to see to keep going on this until Tuesday morning:  I am visibly skinnier.  I am almost back to my old self.

The chicken can wait.  I’m on a mission.


*They’re not really maternity underwear so much as they’re maternity underwear to me.  Want to know a quick way to not make friends with fat ladies?  Walk into Lane Bryant a size-10 and 8 months pregnant and sort through their underwear (the hipsters are the only way to go) and watch how one hostile employee after another inquires, “Those are for you?”

Me:  Hi, do you have any hipsters?

Lane Bryant Sales Woman 1:  For you?

Me:  Yes, for me.  They’re so comfortable and flattering.

LBSW1:  But they’re for you?

Me:  Yes, have you seen my butt?  I’m going to go try them on.

LBSW1:  Try them on?  You’re buying them for yourself?


Me:  Hi, I really like these but you don’t have much selection.  Can we order some to be delivered?

LBSW2:  What?

Me:  The hipsters.  I love them but they’re so limited in the store.  Can you order them to be sent to my house?

LBSW2:  What size?

Me:  12.

LBSW2:  For you?

Me:  Yes.

LBSW2:  These don’t fit you.

Me:  I assure you they do.  I just tried them on.

LBSW2:  You just tried these on?


I may as well have been screaming about how their clothes are so fat that even pregnant women can wear them, except it was the opposite.  They don’t like regular-sized women in their club.  The looks were snide, the tone was rude.  I’ll never shop in one of their stores again but if you have a big booty, just a tad bit bigger than what Victoria’s Secret designs for, then Cacique hipsters are it.  What to see something fucked up?  Look how their photo editor makes all of the plus-sized models into creepy smoothness as if lumps don’t exist on big girls.


-kiki dogwood


So, the baby weight from baby #2 is gone but I’m still wearing a mild muffin belt.  7 more pounds of baby weight from baby #1 remain.  That’s 16 pounds down in 9 days.

Who knew that 400 calories would send my body into starvation mode but 800 calories turns my  metabolism back on?  My stomach was growling all day yesterday.  It was easier to put up with this in starvation mode, seriously.

I have news for anyone who thinks that skipping breakfast sends your body into starvation mode:  you’ll be just fine, quit crying about it.  Cavemen didn’t always get to have their sausage mcmuffin, either.

Today is the last day of the fast and I’m supposed to break it tomorrow with the juice from fresh-squeezed organic oranges, which have been on my counter taunting me for the past week.  To be honest, all I miss is meat.  The other day at work I thought I smelled a hotdog and almost attacked someone.  When I make my son breakfast sausage or fry up some chicken breast nuggets it takes all I have to not pop them in my mouth.  Sometimes I just lick my fingers for the grease.

If I could just eat meat, I would be happy.  I’d supplement it with fresh oranges and steamed cauliflower and chopped up yellow bell pepper and I swear I’ll never drive through another Starbucks again.

And this is exactly where I wanted my mind to be.

Except that I think I might take this fast to Monday…  because that would be 155.


Still 160.  Not the post I wanted to make today.

I’m not drinking enough.  Here’s the issue:  I’m not hungry, so I’m not pounding the juice like I should be and I’m probably really sending my body into starvation mode.  In the beginning I was putting 2 tablespoons of maple syrup in each bottle (200 calories) and drinking 2.5-3 of them per day.  I’m down to about 1 or 1.5 bottles now and it’s not cutting it.  I’m going to put extra syrup (it tastes better that way anyway) and make sure to drink 3 today and see what it looks like tomorrow.

I did wear a pantsuit yesterday that I haven’t worn (read:  been able to fit my ass into) for a year and looked pretty fierce, I heard.



I’m doing some community service today and just thought I’d drop by and give you a couple of reasons to stick to your fast and your (ahem, Margo) “diet.”


I’m coming for you,  150s.

Shockingly, this gets easier as time goes on.  The only day I was hungry was Saturday, the 4th day.  I am a little spacey and forgetful, but luckily I can just blame it on being tired since I have 2 kids.  No one suspects a thing–  I’m not telling people I’m doing this because it makes me look desperate (which I am) and people are judgmental.  It also makes them feel a little insecure to think they couldn’t do such a thing so I just don’t talk about it.




Margo, is everything ok?  Did you black out?

I’m at 161.  I’ve never made it past 7 days before.  Tomorrow is day 8.  I’m going for 10, hoping that by the 11th day I’m 157.  Then I’ll bounce back up 3 pounds or so, and then start dropping again by eating paleo.  Or paleo/primal, because life without bacon isn’t worth living.

I don’t feel like I’ve lost 13-14 pounds because when I see myself naked I still cringe.  Anything above 155 may as well be 185; it’s all the same to me.  But, I’m wearing pants I haven’t worn in a year, so that’s something.


When I found out that her concert in my town sold out in a few minutes to the motherfucking scalpers at stubhub I was furious.  I was quite pregnant and all I wanted to do for my birthday was see Adele.

We discussed buying tickets at 300% the price from the scalpers but I’m vehemently opposed to it.  Then she canceled.  I was happy.  Fuck those scalpers.

Then she rescheduled and once again I wasn’t paying attention and didn’t get tickets.  My blood was boiling.  I would do anything to go.

Then she canceled.

Good.  Because I’m over her.  I don’t even care anymore.  She can’t pull on my heartstrings like that and expect this puppy to keep coming around.

And then last night happened.  I was covered in goosebumps from the first note.  I was cheering her on from my living room.  Burn it down, Adele.

Rarely do you see someone who is such perfection at what they do that they make it seem effortless.  That woman doesn’t even raise the volume of her voice to hit the notes of the line, “You could have had it all.”  She doesn’t even exhale hard.  She barely even moves and it’s just the perfect amount of movement.

She is one of the best there ever was.

I’m not over her.  I’m all up in her.


I get it Nicki.  I really do.  I’ve liked you for a while, even in songs that I don’t otherwise like.  I defended you on facebook.  I see what you were going for:  Your own Madonna moment.  Your flow is so Busta.  You’re the new Missy.  You’re a talented Tasmanian devil with some whump in your trunk.

But still, Super Bass would have been a better choice for your American bourgeois debut, don’t you think?


I can’t tell what the scale says but it’s still around 163.  Maybe yesterday should have been 164 and today is 163.  Also yesterday I got to sleep in 3 1/2 extra hours which makes a big difference in a half pound here or there when you weigh yourself.

I feel thinner.

I’m not stopping.

I am 65% lezbo for Adele.


by margo fontaine

Kiki is right again.  As per uzhe.

You know what?  I like it.