Wall*Mart Wake Up Call

So we went to the lake for the holiday, and I decided that the children and I would attend services in the tiny Louisiana town that sits some 15 miles away (incidentally, the same town my Daddy grew up in). The kids are just not worth living with if you do not take them to church. They will sermonize you to death.
"Isn't this Sunday? The Lord's Day?" confused and perplexed
"We aren't going to church?!" aghast
"But I want to go to Sunday School and learn about Jesus!" pleading
What is a mom to do? The good little Baptists had all packed their Sunday clothes, but their mother--the reprobate--had not. I decided I would whip into the old fashioned Wally-world (I bet you didn't even know they still existed) and grab a dress. They did not have any dresses in the ladies department except three marked down on the "plus" size wrack. I looked at the purple glorified moo-moo and shook my head. Certain that the thing would simply swallow me, I grabbed a belt and went to try it on.
I was shocked to find that it didn't swallow me. It did not need a belt. Besides being a little roomy in the bust, It looked like it was made for me. I cried.
I quit my aerobics class months ago--it wasn't feasible with the daycare schedule. And meals had become a matter of catching what I could when I could. Most often that meant high-carb, high fat. In the evenings we were eating out alot. And my daily coca-cola (or two) quickly became my lifesaver and an evening snow-cone run an addiction. Hey, I was working hard, so I deserved it, right?
Notice the use of the past tense? Yes, friends, the master and I and our two oldest children are on a quest to eat right and exercise. Our goal is a BMI in the healthy range (since the master, K and I are considered "obese"--Abby is only "overweight"). For me, that means 30 pounds. Yikes!!! That seems like a huge number. But I can't do plus sizes. They are so NOT "Just My Size"