we make the rockin’ world go ’round

by MrsFatass on August 19, 2015

A million moons ago I wrote a post called The Bikini Promise. Basically it was my ode to not waiting for perfect circumstances to do something you want to do. For me, it started with a bikini, and while I needed some platform sandals, lipstick and a wide brimmed floppy hat to carry off the whole look for a while, with cocktails practice, the costume pieces began to fade away and now a 2-piece bathing suit is my style of choice and I don’t apologize or make excuses for it.

Over the years, whether on purpose or by beautiful, messy accident, I’ve continued to live by my Bikini Promise. When I tiptoed into my first Zumba class I had no idea that within a year I’d be teaching them. Since writing about my awkward foray into the world of fitness instruction in June, 2011 I’ve obtained 14 additional licenses/certifications for branded fitness programs or fitness credentials. I’ve traveled the country chasing opportunities to teach master classes and to empower people to MOVE NOW, my friends are fitness movers and shakers, and LO AND BEHOLD I joined forces with a dance fitness powerhouse and Trio Fitness was born.

Had I waited until I LOOKED like a “fitness instructor” to take that first step, I’d still be standing in the back row of somebody else’s class.

So. In keeping with that theme, THIS happened:
Photo Aug 16, 5 14 58 PM

Yep. This fat chick is a certified nutrition coach. Cer-tee-feyyyyed.

In Savannah, Steve and I led the Fitblogger Tough Love session, wherein I sort of came internally unglued about my lack of progress on the actual weight loss front. Because, while I have a body that can jump and bend and run and move with ease, one that is strong and healthy and one that does pretty much everything I ask it to do without protesting, I have not lost the weight that I set out to lose when I typed my first post.

In 2009.

Blink. Blink blink.

So why not go get a certification in nutrition coaching, because that’s the logical next step, right? Why shouldn’t I help people break sugar addictions and change their body composition and reveal their beautiful sculpted muscles and . . . lose weight? I’m totally qualified.

Yeah. It’s backward. It’s nuts. It’s dumb. It’s straight from the department of Do As I Say, Not As I Do.

But? It’s happening.

A string of circumstances that began with a program called R.I.P.P.E.D.® led me to a book called Body Confidence by Mark MacDonald, and if you all were sitting around the house and all of a sudden felt the earth move? That was me getting my world rocked. Not because it was some big secret revealed or the answer to the mind bendy-est riddle (what? That’s a word). But because he said it all in such a way that my inner fatass felt competent and also dare I say CONFIDENT that I could do better.

I texted Sam immediately and said READ THIS BOOK IT WAS MADE FOR TRIO. And she did. And she agreed. And I got on the website to find out more and THERE IT WAS! A class to take. A certificate to earn. Tools to help me teach other inner fatasses how to have a better relationship with real food. I spent the summer practicing DOING the program and practicing TEACHING the program and figuring out how to match each client to each method and talking about all the bullshit that makes weight loss hard and you know what? I helped clients feel better. I helped clients try new foods. I helped clients put down the MLM juices and powders and pills and learn to put food into their bodies without guilt or shame. And…they lost weight. A LOT of it!

And together they began tackling the issues that got them to this place. Together. Commiserating and bonding and learning. Forming their very own ‘tribe’.

And they are forming or finding or creating their very own Body Confidence.

So. I am doing it. I am a Nutrition Coach and my inner fatass is just going to have to get comfortable with the idea. Because really, who knows more about how to lose 20, 50, 100, however many pounds than someone who has tried, repeatedly, for a lifetime?

If you’d like to join me, you can.
20 Day JumpStart September
When I posted on Facebook that I passed my exam, lots of my online/Fitbloggin’ friends reached out to find out if we could work together. And I prefer to come from a place of yes, so here we go… I’m launching my coaching business with a JumpStart, which gives us a month to get acclimated to all the basics of the program. You can live here in my town and we can do some of this face to face, or you can live in Timbuktu. As long as you have internet access, we can get this done together! At the end of the 28 days, hopefully you have mastered things and are off on a life of health and confidence! But, if you’d like to continue on in a group, we can make that happen too.

So, if you’re someone who has weight to lose, whatever the amount, this 28 days will be a great way to practice the program. If you don’t really have weight to lose, but are looking to change your body composition, this 28 days will be a great way to practice the program. If you work out and eat very healthy, but aren’t seeing the physical results or sculpt you want to see, this 28 days will be a great way to practice the program. If you think you are a super healthy eater but still have highs and lows and are sluggish in the gym, guess what? This 28 days will be a great way to practice the program.

BEWARE: I’m not selling you a pill or a potion or a green powder or a juice that will cure your gout/anxiety/migranes/halitosis. I am not going to tell you that you can achieve amazing results by eating fried chicken and ice cream. I’m not saying this will be easy or effortless.

But I can help you do better tomorrow than you did yesterday.

And yes, my ass is still fat. But it’s less fat. And the fatass on the inside is on notice.

Sue Full Body
If you’d like to join Trio’s Premiere 28 Day JumpStart, call me at 1.844.TrioFit or email me at TrioFitness@yahoo.com. The group’s introductory price is $50 and includes a health and fitness assessment, goal setting, and program orientation (appointments MUST be scheduled on or before September 4th to ensure adequate time for food planning and preparation), 28 days of online group coaching via private Facebook group (begins September 8), and 4 one-on-one “check ins” with me.

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by MrsFatass on July 29, 2015

I'm only cringing a little at the use of the word "them"

I’m only cringing a little at the use of the word “them”

My friend sent me that meme yesterday and it’s been stuck in my head. It’s funny how quickly things can change. One minute you’re riding your beach cruiser through the neighborhood with the kids, the next minute you are being fitted for a road bike. One minute you are floating in the pool with a beverage, the next you are asking your friend to help you put on your swim cap. One minute you’re cruising the couch with a bag of Ruffles and a Netflix binge, the next minute you’re a Triathlete.

One minute, you’re drifting or feeling helpless, the next minute you’re presented with the opportunity to have an impact.

It’s been a bit of a rollercoaster week. Once a month I have a week where my teaching schedule completely changes, where I get a minute to breathe and get caught up. Owning a business – any business – means that it pretty much lives in your brain twenty four hours a day. So when I have THAT WEEK where I’m leading fewer than 10 classes, I have BIG PLANS of the paperwork I’ll catch up on and the things I’ll get done around the house and the mornings I’ll sleep in til 8 and so on. This week I thought you can really get started on your training! Biking and running and swimming, oh my!

And JUSTLIKETHAT, the tables were turned.

MrsFatass might have a REAL job owning a REAL business where she REALLY teaches fitness classes, but this week she learned that…she really doesn’t work out that much.

And this Triathlon Training is REAL working out.

And it’s REALLY kicking my tail.

As much as I encourage clients to cross train, I have done none. And I’m more exhausted in my OFF week than I am when I’m ON. Teaching classes is NOT the same as TAKING classes. TRAINING someone is not the same as BEING TRAINED. If an instructor or a trainer is looking at your class or appointment as a chance for them to get a workout, FIND A NEW ONE. Do I burn calories and expend energy when I teach? Absolutely. But it those classes are not MY workout. I’m there to focus on YOU.

But when I’m out at the track or in the pool or on the road, I get to focus on me and holy crapballs I am tired.

THANK GOODNESS for having a team. Because I could have quietly walked away two weeks ago when I almost died totally bonked on the side of the road during a bike workout and thought I saw my life flash before my eyes realized that I have some endurance work to do. And even though I said I was going to break off and crawl ride home, for them to keep going, they rallied around me, the one who is supposed to be IN CHARGE for Pete’s sake, and delivered me safely home.

Our team is pretty amazing. I see the photos they post and the hashtags they use and the smiles on their faces and I know I’m part of something that is pretty extraordinary. The faith we have in each other is so strong. This is a big group of women that has no drama, or conflict, or henpecking, or any of those negative “stereotypes” that exist about us. Positivity and strength and wicked senses of humor abound. And with every text or photo that is sent to me, with LOTS OF EXCLAMATION POINTS to convey the excitement of a bike purchase, a run nailed, a swim lesson accomplished, another trip to the bike store, I want to just explode with pride.

Sometimes the most innocuous few words snowball into a supersized result.

I'm thinking about doing a triathlon...

I’m thinking about doing a triathlon…

And BOOM! How those tables have turned.

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on being an adult

by MrsFatass on July 23, 2015

Fixed Screenshot
My heart began to pound so hard I could feel it in my eardrums. When I realized that this wasn’t some joke, when I realized that you were a hundred miles away from me, uncomfortable and anxious with your own butterflies beating at your chest, I had a moment of pure gratitude. Gratitude. Thankfulness for each and every morning that you and I drove from Thing Two’s school to yours, with that extra ten minutes to sit in the car and talk until it was time for you to go.

There were mornings when I was busy or when my to-do list was long, when I silently wished that once in a while you’d ride the bus. Thank God, though, that the bus comes too early and thank God that you and I both want to sleep until the last possible minute and thank God we had 180 mornings (give or take) to talk in the car about this and that and everything, and thank God you have heard me say over and over again that all you have to do when you feel like you’ve gotten in over your head is to call me. When you are at a party and somebody starts passing around a joint, when you experiment with drinking beer and feel like you’re going to puke, when whatever plan you thought you made turns into something that is not at all what you wanted, all you have to do is call me. Call. Me. Calllllmeeee.

Yesterday was like deja vu, finding out that things were not what they seemed, and that once again you were in over your head; that again you were put there by this dad, and again you had a situation forced upon you that you just knew wasn’t right. We believed the situation had changed, and I told the internets you that this woman would never have a chance to mistreat you again. But, after months and months of her absence, you were blindsided with the news that she was on her way there. And you were a hundred miles away from home, worried that this ‘adult’ was again going to be ugly to you, or to me, or to your dad. And even with your friend saying he’d hide away in the bedroom with you so you wouldn’t have to be around her, even with the promise of swimming and boating and go carts all laid out in front of you, still you knew nothing good was going to come of any of this. You knew something wasn’t right.

So you called me.

You called me! You callllllleeeed mmmmeee. You did exactly what I said you should always do, and I did exactly what I’d been promising. We dropped everything, hopped in the car, and came to the beach. We brought you home.

You are at an age right now where you can’t wait to grow up. You think that being An Adult means that you’ll be able to do anything you want. No permission to be sought. No approval. And somehow you think that this sought after adulthood comes by turning a certain age or by acquiring certain characteristics. When you were younger, you thought it was determined by height. More recently, by the appearance of armpit hair. And of course you see the magic number 18 off in the distance.

But as your mom, I’m here to remind you that while yes you might legally be an adult when you and your armpit hair turn 18, adulting is nothing special. Everybody gets to do it just by getting old enough. It’s just a technicality. You can be an adult, but have no maturity. You can still be spoiled, or reckless, or selfish, or even downright stupid, but still call yourself an adult simply because you’re middle aged old enough.

Nope. There is more to it than just surviving your teen years. And I suspect that you are beginning to figure that out. Probably more than any conversation we’ve had in the last few months, I think that what you saw unfold last night taught you a lot about the difference between ‘technical adult’ and real man. As your father and your friend’s father stood in the driveway blinking at each other, one having just driven two hours to rescue you from the drama, the other all red faced from wine and defensive, it was pretty clear to you which one you plan to emulate.

You fell asleep in the car on the way back from the beach last night, but this morning you came in and curled up next to me ready to talk it out. We spent a little time rehashing the story, connecting the dots, trying to figure out when she became part of this picture again, and speculating as to why he would have invited her without mentioning it to his own son, or to us, or to the rest of the family staying in the beach house. We talked a little bit about secrets and breakups and divorces and giving second chances, and then you got quiet for a moment. Thinking something over.

You know what mom? you said. I’m grateful.

Grateful? That’s a big word. Tell me what you’re grateful for, I replied.

Well a big reason is because you came to get me. I was worried about that because I was so far away.

Silly goose. I will always come get you. I’d go anywhere to get you if you needed me. Now you know.

I’m just glad God put me in this family and not a different one. I don’t like drama. We’re just normal. It’s not stressful here. I’m thankful to be home.

I am too, baby. I’m so thankful you’re home. And I know that when the time comes to be an adult, you will be a great one.

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big girl panties

by MrsFatass on July 20, 2015


Afraid to cross the beam. But I DID IT ANYWAY.

If we are Facebook friends (or if you’re in any service industry whatsoever that involves asking me the question “how are you?”) then you know that I have recently begun training for my first triathlon.

Yeah, I’ll just let that sink in for a minute.

I say it a lot. I tell everyone. Mostly because I’m trying to believe for myself that its really true. I’ve never wanted to do this before and I’m not even sure I still do, except that now I’m organizing a training club for 20 or so women, mostly first timers, so I’m in it up to my eyeballs.

And I do know that there are parts of it that I already love. I mean, aside from the shopping for clothes and shoes and gadgets. Just a few weeks in and I’ve already discovered that I love to ride the bike. I haven’t even gotten super hardcore yet, but I’m in love with cycling. And I also hate it because for the kind of riding I want to do, I don’t yet have the endurance and I don’t yet have the bike I need. And I’m impatient. And not made of money. But still. I do love to ride.

I also might love swimming. I’ve only had one practice so far, but it was a strong one. I have never been coached in the pool, and all I really knew going in was that I’m really good at floating on a raft or standing by the wall in the deep end with my friends drinking a beer an ice water on a hot summer day. So I really had no idea what to expect when I jumped in for the first time. But I can roll and I can breathe and I’m kind of fast and I only came up choking once in the entire 45 minute lesson so I think I’m going to like that part too.

The run? Not so much. For about the 58th time I’m back to C25K. And back to hating every step. Not much more to be said there.

I have thought a lot about how I want to write about my journey to triathlete. I mean, like, what angle. Based on the name of this website we know that I’m, uh, robust. And that hasn’t really changed a whole lot. But really? Other people have already written the Fat Girl Tri story in amazing and uplifting and inspiring ways, and anything I write there will be a remix of “It freaks me out, I feel out of place, I’m bigger than everyone, BUT I AM DOING IT ANYWAY.”

And I thought about my ride on the anxiety train, on and off the floah, the struggle between the part of me that loves connecting with people and the part of me that us also utterly terrified of and exhausted by consistent social interaction. But I’ve already written all kinds of posts about getting into my discomfort zone, and DOING IT ANYWAY.

And I’m kind of over some of it. I’m kind of over the memes about “adulting” and I’m kind of over the posts about “how to love an introvert/extrovert/whatever-overt”. I’m kind of over all of the rules (or are they really just excuses?) and I am tired of people whining about change but not doing the hard stuff (and by “people” I mean THIS GIRL). Know what? I haven’t ridden a bike for years. I jog slower than I walk. I already gave myself eye hickeys trying to get my goggles right. I don’t have time to cross train very much so I’m out there huffing and puffing harder than the people who pay me money every month to lead classes. I already have bike envy and I already am pressed for time to get my training workouts in and already I am worried about finishing last. BUT I AM DOING IT ANYWAY.

Nothing new. Nothing to see here. I’ve lived this life in front of you before, and you’ve lived it in front of me. This is what we DO. We take on the challenges and dig deep and make magic happen. Even when everything conspires against us. WE DO IT ANYWAY.

So I don’t know what I’m going to say during this process that will be new or interesting or funny. But I’m in training. For a triathlon. I’m not waiting for some magical perfect time. I’m not waiting until I can afford a better bike. I’m not pushing it off until next season so I have more time. I’m big, and I’m anxious, and I’m nervous, and I’m pretty sure I’ll cry during every hard workout because I’m kind of a baby. Add me to the list of crazy people women who for whatever reason find themselves setting their alarm clocks for 6AM on a weekend to sneak out while sane people the rest of the house sleeps just to be able to cross one more practice session off of the training plan. I will be grumpy and tired and sore and elated and terrified and feeling strong and having bad days and even though none of this will be news to any of you because you are all WAY more bad ass then me, IM DOING IT ANYWAY.

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Fitbloggin’ Denver RECAP

by MrsFatass on June 30, 2015

It’s the most wonderful time of the year! The switch flips on all of my social media feeds, the hashtags fly, there is a soft green light cast over everything. It’s time for FITBLOGGIN’!

victoria's secret
Like so many in the tribe, I feel a certain kind of ownership. It’s OUR conference. It’s like a homecoming every year. I was there from the beginning, when my blog was still called Did I Just Eat That Out Loud, Roni still had long hair and Carla was still MizFit.

Miz and the Mrs

I decided to become a Zumba instructor at FitBloggin’, which set in motion for me a whole new career path. I’ve been an attendee, a speaker, and an instructor; I’ve made people laugh and I’ve cried it out. I’ve made some of the most important friendships of my life at FitBloggin. It’s a pretty amazing thing.

best picture ever
And this year I chose to miss it.

Yep. This is my Fitbloggin recap, but I wasn’t even there. Well, I wasn’t there PHYSICALLY. I was there in spirit. And I was in the pocket of so many thoughtful friends who sent me texts and messages and photos and video clips and I just can’t even begin to tell you what that felt like. To be remembered in the midst of the selfies and workouts and edibles beers and laughter. Because you are all so very dear to me.

Last year I had the opportunity to lead a session with Steve about Fitblogger Tough Love.

We explored the idea that while our tribe can be so supportive and understanding that while sometimes it can be the thing that lifts us up through our trials and tribulations, it can also be the thing that holds us back. We can be a soft place to fall, because there is always someone to commiserate when the going gets super tough. I was one of many who was still working on taking the same weight off in Savannah that I was working to take off our first time in Baltimore. And while I was much farther along on the journey away from Fatass, my pants size was not the thing that reflected those strides.

Well. Here we are a year later, and I’m thinking about whether or not I’ve actually accomplished anything. I haven’t gotten a lot thinner but I have gotten stronger, inside and out. And I have continued to do a lot of things that take a lot of nerve for a fat girl. I’m still pushing the envelope, living in my discomfort zone, and you know what else? I’m still wearing a bikini.

I am also about to become a certified nutrition coach.

I’ll just let that sink in for a moment. Because I know what some of you may be thinking. If I know enough to help coach other people in making better nutritional choices, why the heck am I still MrsFatass? I know. But here’s the deal. I found what works for me. I found the thing that has helped make me stronger, helped make me feel awesome, helped fuel my training, helped reveal that I actually do have sculpted muscles, and slowly but surely it will be the thing that helps bring my weight down.

And I have also learned that while some people will lose 2 or 3 pounds in a week, I will lose.5. It sucks, but it’s me. So I’m done trying to LOSE WEIGHT and I am now eating to support my lifestyle. And I DO know how to help other people do that too and it’s because of my tribe that I didn’t just give up and grab a bag of Ruffles.

And speaking of lifestyle. I also now drive a minivan. And on the back of it? Is a bike rack. Along with my Fitbloggin’ stickers, my 13.1, and my trio fitness cling is a bike rack because you know what else?

I’m in training. For a triathlon.

Yep. MrsFatass is doing a tri along with about 30 other first-timers. I vehemently said NO WAY for many years, but then a friend brought it up and after I said HELL TO THE NO I went home and registered for it. And now our studio is putting together a training club and we are going to DO this thing in October. And I am fighting the urge to qualify triathlon, because it’s a little bitty baby one. But I’m not going to. Because it’s huge. It’s huge for ME.

So, even from a distance, Fitbloggin’ is still my inspiration and my tribe and even though I wasn’t in Denver, I was still able to soak up some of that positivity and love and I am still going to keep trying, moving forward, and basically being willing to make a total ass of myself in public if it will make you laugh and try something new yourself. I’m still living my Bikini Promise, not waiting until the perfect time or the perfect weight or the perfect size before I try something. And I hope you are too.

And when I see you all in 2016, I’m going to need twice as many hugs.

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on turning 12 and loving your mom

by MrsFatass on February 5, 2015

Photo Feb 05, 9 56 58 AM
Dear Thing One,

We had an argument over the weekend. A BIG one. You and me, well, we are tight. And it’s interesting because you are in no way a “momma’s boy”, whatever that means, but we have a relationship that is pretty unique. When you were much younger, and we were still living in Michigan, your YaYa told me that she thought you and I spoke our own language. And that she liked how I always just talked to you like an equal and not a baby. That’s how we still are. We are just honest with one another. So our argument was real, and it made us both think, and it took us both a couple of days to shake it off.

There are lots of things that just come naturally to you. It has been pretty easy for you to be a good student and it has been pretty easy for you to be a good athlete. But this year you made a transition to Middle School, and with that, you’ve learned you kind of have to work for the grades and the baskets now. And that’s why we argued. Because in school you’ve done the work and learned to study and brought up the grades. But in basketball you’ve gotten frustrated and your attitude has changed and you’ve retreated to your room a bit more to pretend to be a basketball star with the hoop on your closet door, instead of doing the work in the gym and on the court.

If there is one thing I wish I could make you understand it would be that practice and training isn’t a PUNISHMENT, it’s an OPPORTUNITY. Whatever your dream is, whatever it is you decide you want to pursue, you have to come to love the preparation for it as much as you love the actual getting to do it. I was an actor when I was young, and as much as I loved performing the show, I loved rehearsals. The practice and exploration and camaraderie were as important to me as the curtain going up on opening night. I know you love the driveway basketball, and I do too. But if you want to play at the level of the players of the teams you love, then you need to do more. You have to earn the glory of sinking the game winning buzzer beater. You need to train.

And your mama can help you train. If you’d stop fighting me on it, I could help you train in many of the skills that will help you have better coordination, better endurance, more flexibility.

Plus? I know a thing or two about being competitive and can help you develop THAT skill as well. If you’d just let me.
It’s been no secret that the last year or two of elementary school were tough discipline-wise and now that you’ve finished half a school year in middle school I know my gut was right. You grew out of the elementary school rules and regulations a long time ago. You’ve never liked being treated like a baby. Not even when you WERE a baby. Having every behavior dictated and policed made you miserable, and now that you have some freedoms and some ability to use your own judgment, you’ve proven to all of us you can handle it. You keep up with your things. You are polite to your teachers. You keep your phone in your backpack. You do your homework every day.

You’re doing middle school really, really well. And I’m just so ridiculously proud of you.

This is a big year for other reasons, too. Your first dance is next week, though the jury is still out on whether or not you will go. You stay home by yourself now. You’re finally going to get the braces you’ve wanted since that adult tooth grew in crooked. You have girlfriends that want to hold your hand. We’ve talked about kissing. But I have to say that time after time after time, you prove yourself to be a good kid. A good boy. On your way to being a very good man.

I feel so very lucky and so very blessed that you and I have our special kind of relationship where we can be so close and so honest, but not codependent. I don’t think anyone would describe me as being overprotective of you, and I don’t think anyone would describe you as being too reliant on me. We just are who we are. We have a lot of respect for one another. And a lot of love. You can talk to me about anything, and I know any mom can SAY that, but I love that you really DO.

I also love that you text me every day at lunch.

Photo Feb 05, 9 55 28 AM
Happy 12th Birthday, my Doodlebug. I love you, I love you, I love you.

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kelly jelly

by MrsFatass on January 13, 2015

My group of girlfriends loves to throw a birthday party.
We have a whole ritual. We set up a “secret” chat on Facebook and give it a funny name. We go back and forth for days, figuring out the date and location. We hang on to ideas in photo files and scattered post it notes as we notice things that one of us may like, but then we also brainstorm all kinds of new ideas that are so personally perfect for the person we can’t even stand it. We occasionally post a birthday message in a non-birthday conversation and then have to cover our tracks. Secrecy is a big part of these birthdays. There is always A Surprise.

And, there is always a tee shirt. Each one of us gets a tee shirt where our faces are photoshopped on to a picture. Always the same photoshopped faces, but on a different picture that is somehow perfect for the birthday girl. Maybe all of us in bed with our favorite band. Or all of us on My Little Ponies. Something like that. When we come up with the design there is a lot of back patting because, well, we think we are brilliant and hilarious.

Photo Jan 10, 11 47 41 PMThe logistics get worked out and we count it down for several excruciating days. And finally, we are all together! Inevitably somebody will cry. And inevitably we will all laugh until we cry. And there is always amazing food and lots of drinks and we usually need a day or two to recover.

Over the weekend, we celebrated Jelly’s birthday.

Photo Jan 10, 11 48 24 PM
Her name isn’t really Jelly, it’s Kelly. But in our aforementioned hilariousness, we have adopted a new language. You know how siblings will have their own secret language so that mom or dad can’t figure out what they are saying? We have one. Mostly it comes from AutoCorrect, but some of it also comes from raunchy e-cards or people typing in text speak or a southern accent. Anyway, between my pudgy fingers and long fingernails, I have typed Jelly instead of Kelly so many times that now my phone thinks that is her name. And it stuck.

Jelly loves yoga, and she loves trio, and she loves trio’s yoga instructor. So we put all that love together, along with origami, candles, essential oils, and champagne, and we threw her a very Namaste birthday party.

5She cried. Which made us all very happy. We got it right.

I wanted to make a party favor for everybody and I wanted it to be pure Kelly. Aside from being beautiful, and aside from being pretty much The Most Hilarious Woman on the Planet, one of the ways she shows you she loves you is by being your number one supporter. Seriously. She is the first to say your idea is a good one, she is the first to defend you, she is the first to throw on some clothes and head outside to start up the woodchipper when you have to dispose of a body. And when I took my essential oil love a step further and actually made it a business venture, she jumped in with me.

So. I came up with a party favor. I found a lotion recipe on the All-Powerful Pinterest and began collecting ingredients and little glass jars, and I read and read and read until I found the 2 oils that I thought represented her well. I woke up early on party day, while the rest of the house slept, and I made a test batch to make sure it would be good stuff, and as it turns out, it smells a little like jelly. Jelly for Jelly. Er, for Kelly. Who I call Jelly. It’s Kelly Jelly.

We did yoga together and we drank champagne. We listened to music and talked and laughed and as is the usual happening, Jelly and I were the last 2 standing.
6 We are hot.

Happy Birthday, Halfway Bitch.

Kelly Jelly
(This recipe is adapted from one posted here by Kendra of A Sonoma Garden. It rocks. The ingredients are perfect, in my not so humble opinion. I just messed with the process a little and added my favorite oils. With the exception of the Vitamin E oil, I used all organic ingredients.)

1 C Olive Oil

½ C Coconut Oil
½ C Beeswax
½ t Vitamin E Oil
14 Drops Young Living Valor
6 Drops Young Living Tangerine Oil (Citrus oils can be phototoxic, which basically means this is is not a good lotion to wear if you are headed out in the sun, because it can irritate your skin. Choose it for the winter months or when you have about 24 hours before you plan to bake in direct sunlight).


We need to melt all 3 oils together so we can mix well. You can use a double boiler if you have one, or just rig one up like I do. I have a glass measuring cup with a handle that thankfully doesn’t get hot, and I submerge that into a pot of water. The water comes up half or maybe 2/3 or the way – not high enough to boil over or splash into the lotion mixture.

The beeswax takes the longest to melt, so I add that first, with about half of the olive oil. It’s probably a good 5 or so songs on the radio kind of long. Then I add the rest of the olive oil and keep stirring. Coconut oil melts pretty quickly, so I add that last. Stirring and stirring and stirring my brew.

Then I pour it into whatever glass jar I’m using. The one pictured I picked up at Hobby Lobby and it was an absolute perfect fit for the amount of lotion in this recipe. That’s what I gave Kelly. Then I made it again, doubled the recipe, and filled up 7 of these little jelly jars.2

AS SOON AS I POUR IT INTO THE JAR I tend to the cleaning of the measuring cup. Before the residue solidifies. I wipe it out super good with a paper towel and then wash it with hot water and Dawn.

Then it’s back to stirring the brew. It’s kind of a dance of scraping down the sides of the jar, stirring, and3 taking it in and out of the fridge to help it cool.

When it gets close to about room temperature, add the Vitamin E oil and essential oils. And then, you guessed it. Stir it some more.

When it’s cool, pop the top on the jar. And then give it to someone you love.





***So this is the part of the post where I add the disclaimer that within the recipe, there are links to certain products. These are products that I actually used and have deemed my personal favorites, and you know what? They are affiliate links. Which means if you decided to shop using those links, I would earn a couple of bucks. This is also the part where I tell you that my blog is not about to change and become one big commercial. It is not going to be a constant plea for you to buy things from me. Promise.***

***But also note that if you WANT to buy things from me, you can. I’ll use that money to totally buy a round at Fitbloggin’***

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