Fat Chick vs. Food - Week One

OK everyone! It's the official start to the FoN plan of getting my shit together and FINALLY dropping all this grossness off of my body. For someone who seems to have the reputation of getting what she wants it seems odd I let myself get to this point. I need to start bossing myself around I guess. How did I get so porky you ask? Here is a little background....

I try to have a decent amount of self-esteem, which is not easily accomplished when you are a seriously overweight individual. I have to have little talks with myself that generally go like this:

“I refuse to be one of those women who are totally obsessed with their body. I’m a feminist, dammit! I certainly would never want to perpetuate the notion that women need to be thin in order to be worthy and happy. The media is responsible for society’s hyper-focus on the perfect female form and I for one am NOT going to buy into that. Pass the Doritos.”

While I feel that all of the above is true and I stand by it, I’m not really sure when I decided that I need to be fat in order to prove how committed I am to the cause. Gloria Steinem isn't fat now, is she? The truth is this – the ‘society pressure’ argument is what I use as a convenient excuse to justify my fatness.

The weight as been an issue for a long time now, and I have tried addressing it several different times over the last ten years with varying levels of success. By April of 2006 I had lost 35lbs and was feeling pretty good, especially since I had just had a baby in December of 2005. Then life intervened and that May my father died on the 12th and my grandmother died on the 27th. Both of those people were very, very important to me, I loved them to death and I did not handle their passing very well., especially since they died within weeks of each other. I wasn’t sure how to deal with being in a world that they were no longer a part of and well….having chocolate cake for breakfast seemed to make me feel better. I was in such a major depression that I was willing to grasp at anything that made me feel better. I put all that 35lbs back on and then an extra 5lbs for good measure.

By spring of 2007 I had managed to pull myself together again and by August of that year had lost 30 lbs. I was feeling like I might actually do it this time! Sure, I still had 30+ pounds go, but I was on a roll! Then, well....that fall something bad happened, let's just say that. Anyhoo....long story short I got super fat again and have pretty much stayed that way ever since. Now I’m 35 years old and have three kids and need to lose AT LEAST 60 pounds.

What the hell is my problem? If I can only lose weight when things are going well in my life then I’m going to have trouble because life sucks ass sometimes and pigging out doesn’t actually help. Things seem to be going my way a little more lately – but what I need now is a coping strategy so that when the next life crisis comes my way I can deal with it properly. Maybe I should start smoking a ton of weed or playing VLT’s every night until 3:00 am or something. Actually, the pot will probably give me the munchies so that won’t help and we’re kind of broke which makes it difficult to be a hard-core gambling addict. Anyone out there have any ideas on how to cope with stress that doesn’t involve food? The first person to say ‘clean your house’ might get a virtual boot up their ass, however.

Fat Chick vs Food

I know I am very cliché posting about how I’m going to get into shape in 2009, but that’s fine. I’ve made peace with my typically average existence. I have a mini-van that I drive my son to soccer games in. I have a double car garage and a backyard that is home to summer bbq’s and trampolining children. I like reality television shows. I am in an average amount of debt for a 30-something. I listen to Neil Diamond cd’s and I’m just fine with all of this. In fact, I quite enjoy my clichéd existence. I have made peace with how my life has turned out so far and am generally satisfied. I have not, however, made peace with the fact that I am a super huge fat person now. That was never part of the plan.

I’m fucking HUGE. I’m not talking the 10 or 20 lbs an average person puts on around the time their 20 year high school reunion is looming or after having their second baby in as many years. We’re talking a gain of 60lbs over the last ten years. And I was 20lbs over my high school weight then. It’s really not cool. If I continue at this rate I’m going to need Dr. Phil to come over and cut me out of my house while the neighbours watch in horror as they load me on to a fire truck to get me out because it’s the only vehicle available that was big enough to hold me. That would suck.

My problem is (and always has been) that I’m an immediate gratification type person, and I find food extremely gratifying. I love cooking and I’ve gotten pretty good at it in the last decade or so. I also like drinking beer, eating chocolate and I think potato chips are a little slice of heaven right here on earth. When I chase those bad boys with a Coke I am having a little party for one! I also HATE exercising. A lot. The only thing I enjoyed doing and would do on even a semi-consistent basis was to play squash. The only courts in town closed down three months ago.

Yeah, yeah, yeah….bitch and moan and poor me already and blah blah blah and just put the bagel down and get your fat ass on the treadmill already. It sounds easy, but it’s really not that simple for me. I think I have taken this whole thing to the absolute extreme and have managed to create myself a full blown eating disorder. I think about food ALL THE TIME. I plan the next meal while I’m eating the current meal. Do other people do that? I don’t think they do.

I am under no illusion here that the 17 year-old 125 pound bikini clad FoN is every coming back. She’s gone for ever and I accept that. However, the 35 year-old giant shirt wearing size 36 jean FoN needs to hit the road too. That is enough of this shit already. I look ridiculous and feel like shit.

I really hope I can do this. I don’t know how exactly I’m going to do it yet – but I’m working on a plan as we speak. It will probably involve some kind of internet humiliation tactic because I need some serious motivation here. I’ll let you know what I come up with on Monday which will now be the day I post my weekly progress. I will need support so bring it on. Please!

Happy Sex-Free New Year World!

It’s 3:30 am, New Years Eve and I’m not getting laid. How do you like that? When ever *he* feels like it and I don’t, it’s some kind of horrible rejection thing and I have to pay the consequences for the next few days, but when I feel like it and *he* doesn’t it’s just fine ‘cause he’s tired. That doesn’t seem fair somehow. I can fake it in order to save feelings….why doesn’t it work the other way? I am totally OK with him phoning it in! Throw a girl a bone already! Ha ha… no pun intended. I guess I’ll just get even by posting my lack of nookie woes on the internet. Wow – I hope the Hubby never feels the need to start a blog. That could go horribly wrong in so many ways. Actually, I know he has one but it’s all full of academic-world useful things. No such luck here, folks!

I know I’ve been a bad blogger the last few weeks…..sorry Keely and Jen. Well, really Jen since I just end up calling Keely and telling her everything anyway. Jen - you should totally give me your number then I won’t have any guilt at all. Well, actually, don’t do that. Guilt is my motivator. Thanks Jesus. Thanks a lot.

Stay tuned – a new design and kick-ass insightful shit that will totally blow your mind is coming in the next few weeks. Well, the new design part for sure.

Happy New Year everyone!

Random Thought Tuesday

I wish I could be Santa for one day because I have a shit load of stuff I want to get people for Christmas. MY Christmas list would include: A sense of humour, a new hair style, the ability to relate to humans, a self-righteousness remover, an instrument that detracts pole from ass, a bullshit detector and last but not least, a soul. Oh wait, that would all go to the SAME PERSON.

Why do I live in this province? This weather is UNHOLY. There is no reason that we should be forced to experience nuclear winter for four months of the year. Fuck you Al Gore, bring it on.

I am TOTALLY in love with the guy that threw his shoes at George Bush. Who among us hasn’t felt like doing that? I’ve been throwing shit at that guy from my living room for years! I’m only sad Dubbya is so good at bobbing and weaving and the shoe-guy missed. I guess George had to be good at something. Finally! A skill is revealed! Too bad nobody figured it out before now - a career in boxing would have been far less damaging to the planet.

That’s all I’ve got. I have to go and let my car run (assuming it starts) for 30 mins in order for the steering column to be thawed enough to turn corners. At least we won’t have to deal with a tsunami anytime soon.

And God bless us, every one....

Holy crap all the people that don't read this! I'm on my way out the door to go see J sing and dance and Tiny Tim her little ass off tonight in front of hundreds of people! If I wasn't still a little hung-over I'd go have a few shots to calm down a little.

Random Thoughts Day

Why the hell are there so many freakin’ ways to spell Hanukah Channukah Chanukah Hanukkah? Note to the Jews – just pick one already. Sheesh.

At what point does one make the transition from ‘Miss’ to ‘Ma’am’? I remember the very first time I was Ma’am-ed (sadly, it was quite some years ago) and it was very shocking to the system. I remember being totally appalled by the thought that I was considered more a Ma’am than a Miss. What is even more shocking to the system is that I was recently ‘Miss-ed’ and I was offended by that. What do they think I am, some girl they can easily dismiss? Yeah, I know. I don’t really get me either.

What is with the two day hangover? I’m not that old and I didn’t drink that much. I had a job interview yesterday that I’m pretty sure I tanked all thanks to the ‘Christmas Cheer’ I indulged on Saturday night. That’s something a ‘Miss’ would do I guess.

Why do all the teachers I know have so much money? They all live in beautiful homes and go on fancy trips and I know for a fact they all earn sweet-fa for a salary. Is there some kind of secret teacher underground embezzlement cluster or something? And if so, can we get in on that deal when the Hubby graduates?

The Tale of Judas and Yoko

Saturday night was the Hubby’s Christmas party. He is an education student who is (praise the lord!) graduating this spring, so this semester he has been completing his internship at a school. Since he has only been at this school for four months, I have never met any of his fellow teachers. I’m not exactly a shrinking violet and since I love Christmas and parties, I was totally up for going. There was, however, a bit of a catch.

We live in a small city, and for anyone who has lived here for any length of time you are bound to bump up against your past from time to time. Well, our past was at the Hubby’s Christmas party, cocktails in hand, in the form of two people we haven’t spoken a word to in seven years. Let’s call them Judas and Yoko.

The Hubby was already good friends with Judas when I met him twenty years ago. Actually, friend is too weak a word; the Hubby idolized this guy. Judas was a bit older than us; already had a ‘real’ job, already had a baby and a wife, he was a guitar player in a band, etc., etc. He even had a cool dog. Judas had everything the Hubby aspired to have and from the Hubby’s perspective, Judas was The Man. I think Judas legitimately liked the Hubby, but there was certainly no idolizing going on the other way. The Hubby was to Judas how coke is to rum – complimentary, but by no means necessary. I was trying to come up with a better analogy than that, but I’m on the second day of a killer hang-over. Bear with me.

And I liked Yoko, although she was oddly competitive. I’m not very athletic, so us playing sports together was just fine for her. I’m not very domestic, so spending time in the Martha Stewart paradise she calls home was okey-dokey. However, she once decided to take an English class and asked me to read her first paper. After I started correcting her grammar she got a little miffed and that was the last time I saw any writing of hers. I was young and didn’t catch on to the fact that Yoko just wanted me to ooohh and aaahhhh about her writing talent, not point out the difference between ‘your’ and ‘you’re’. Anyhoo, the point being is that the Hubby and I were very young, new parents who were trying to find our way in the world. Judas and Yoko were our older more ‘mature’ friends who seemed to have it all together. We thought they were WAY cool.

Fast forward a few years…..the Hubby is a bit older and wiser, the rock band he had played in for ten years had just broken up and he was determined to play his first solo show. It was an ambitious project for a guy who had always been just the drummer (insert your favourite drummer joke here) of the band playing second fiddle to three young, buff, uber rock gods of the stage.

The Hubby wanted to have his own show – play guitar, do the singing, organize the song list, etc., etc. What better a partnership for this new adventure than to play with Judas? Judas is The Man! after all. Judas is a great guitar player, and not unlike Yoko and her writing, the Hubby just wanted Judas to be impressed with him as a musician. The Hubby imagined him and Judas rocking out, playing together as equals over a few cold ones. Yeah, that’s not how it actually went down.

Judas initially agreed to play the show with the Hubby, but after a few short, ill-fated practices Judas disappeared. Literally. The Hubby called him more times than a drunk girl calls her ex-boyfriend leaving a series of pathetic and pleading messages for Judas to please please PLEASE call him back. The show was looming, no practices were happening, the Hubby was becoming increasingly frantic and then finally, THREE DAYS before his first ever solo performance, the show that meant more to him than any show he had ever previously played, the Hubby was greeted with this note on his car windshield:


Dear Hubby,

I’m not showing up or playing at your show. I’ve never really thought you were anything other than a giant pain in the ass, and I’m going to take this opportunity to completely fuck you over. You are a shitty friend, a bad father and a sucky husband, and I am better than you in all ways so go fuck yourself.

Judas

OK, so that really isn’t the note he left, but that was the long and short of it, trust me. That was seven years ago, and neither of us have heard a peep from Judas or Yoko since. The Hubby has never really gotten over being bitch slapped by the one guy he had always looked up to, and I have never really gotten over wanting to go and beat the living shit out of Judas for making my Hubby cry. I get a little ‘mama bear’ about that kind of thing. I can make him cry, but if anyone else does it I’m going to punch them in the face.

Saturday night, December 6, 2008: Christmas party with the teachers. As it turns out in this dreadfully small world of ours, Yoko used to work at the same school where the Hubby is currently interning. I knew this fact, but it didn’t occur to me that Yoko and Judas were going to crash the Christmas party! She doesn’t even work there anymore! I think the Hubby knew, but he (wisely) didn’t share that little bit of news with me. I was very surprised to see these two people show up at the party and was immediately caught off guard. So what did I do? I started drinking.

I don’t really drink that much anymore, but something about having Judas and Yoko plopped in the middle of my current reality made me think that getting completely and totally shit-faced with a bunch of Catholic teachers would be a good idea. It’s been a LONG time since I’ve really tied one on, but let’s just say this – I went to the dark side. I may as well have been wearing a lamp shade while trying to organize a game of quarter bounce. I’m glad I never have to see these people again because in the light of day, I feel like an asshole.

There are two types of drunks – the ‘fighting and belligerent’ drunks, and the ‘I love you guys' drunks. I’m the latter, so after my initially distaste and trepidation (not to mention the undeniable urge to indulge in the punching) I started warming up to Judas and Yoko again. I’ve been so focused on hating these people (well, Judas, but Yoko by association) that I haven’t really given my self a chance to mourn the lost friendship.

Yoko is exactly the same. She looks the same, acts the same, laughs the same, dresses the same….it’s like she was frozen in time and then thawed out right before the Christmas party. I sware Judas picked her up off the counter and ran her under the sink for a few minutes before heading out the door. Judas, on the other hand, has dropped a bunch of weight and did not seem to be the easy going, casual guy I remember. He seemed almost pompous, in a way. Has he really turned into a pompous ass, or was he embarrassed by his past behaviour and was over compensating because he feels guilty? Or, is he just humiliated by the “I’m way better than you” tone of his go fuck yourself note? Or, maybe he was just the same as he used to be and I’m looking for problems because I’m still mad at him? Hard to say, because my judgement was, ahem….compromised.

I guess it doesn’t ultimately matter because the Hubby won’t be at the same school next year and I’m sure it will be another seven years before fate and the small town that is Regina brings us together again. Either way, the evening was enjoyable. Even if Judas and Yoko think we’re losers who are not worthy of their friendship, it was nice to have an evening with them again. And I didn’t even punch anyone.