After spending a lot of time on the internet reading about other people's motivation, I feel motivated to post on my own motivation. Huh? Its okay, you’ll catch up in a second.
What is my real weight loss motivation…that is the question. The answer I tell my children, and trainer and skinny friends? Why, health of course! I don’t care about the number on the scale or what I look like, I just want to be healthy! Yeah, that is a TOTAL crock of shit.
My real motivation? There are three main motivating factors for me to lose 60lbs and not one of them has to do with health.
1. – I want to run into people from the past and not be completely humiliated. I live in a relatively small city (about 200,000 people give or take) so it’s big enough that you can avoid people, but small enough that you occasionally (and inevitably) run into people you used to know but who you haven’t seen in years. The most recent occurrence of this phenomena happened at a Christmas party in December.
I was at a work function that included many other organizations who work in the same industry around town. I was busy schmoozing the usual suspects when from behind me I heard the dreaded, “Christie? Is that you? Do you remember me?....” I turned around and was greeted by a girl that I knew from high school but who I haven’t seen in over 17 years. The worst part? She looked fabulous. She hadn't gained an ounce or aged a day. I stood there talking to her and the whole time I was thinking,
“I can’t believe she is seeing me this fat. She must be an actor because I’m sure it’s not easy to mask the shock and horror of what is my current appearance. Should I mention that I’m fat? Yeah, well...that’s obvious, but is it better to pretend that everything is normal, or acknowledge that I am aware of my fatness? Quick – tell her you have three kids! That should buy you a few pounds, right? Suck it in! Don’t turn sideways…stand up a little straighter and stick your neck out a little....”
It was totally horrifying on many different levels. Not the least of which was that I actually quite liked this girl in high school, and if I wasn’t so preoccupied by being 'outed' for getting so fat we could have reconnected a little more. I know where she works now, so I think I will call her for a coffee date or something. Maybe in a few months. When I’m skinnier.
2. – I want to buy cool clothes before I’m too old to wear them. When I was skinny I was poor, so I wore whatever was available. To have a little money and a skinny body? The mall is my oyster! I don’t need a ton of fancy designer duds, but I would like to be able to shop in any store I like and be reasonable assured they will have my size. I’m on the bubble between the regular people sizes and the fat people sizes. I’m not quite fat enough for the plus size stores, but it’s touch and go on whether the regular people stores will have the one size 14 or 16 left that I can squeeze my ass into.
See, the regular people stores don’t really want the fat people to shop there, so they only order one fat person size. If I don’t get the one larger size they bring in I’m s.o.l. And the fat people stores don’t want the smaller fat people to shop there because they want the super fat people to feel comfortable. Therefore, if I don’t get the one 'small' fat person size they bring in I’m s.o.l there too. Either way I usually get screwed on the clothes front.
3. – I want to go waterskiing. Really, really, badly. Three summers ago we bought a speed boat. There are quite a few lakes within an hours drive from our house, and I grew up on a lake and in a boat so I really wanted one for my family. I have never been a fabulous water-skier, but while it wasn’t pretty, I always managed to at least get up on those skis for a trip or two around the lake. I have tried for three consecutive summers now and I can’t haul my fat ass out of the fucking water.
My husband skis like a champ, as does my 15 year-old daughter. Every summer I try, and for three years now I haven’t gotten close. My family is very patient with me and would be willing to spend all day trying to haul my fat ass out of that lake, but after a few tries I give up due to exhaustion and humiliation. They all laugh and it’s no big deal ‘cause it’s just mom and mom waterskiing would be too funny for words anyway. I am NOT ready to play that role. I do not want to be the fat old lady sitting in the boat with the ugly hat and giant sunglasses reading a shitty romance novel. I want to do more than just handout the sandwiches at lunchtime. I’m 35 years-old for crying out loud! I am going to ski behind my boat this summer so help me GOD.
There are a few other minor motivations such as health and fitness, but they really take a backseat to the three primary motivators listed above. I want to ski behind my boat and wave at a group of people I went to high school with while wearing a great bathing suit purchased at a trendy surf-type store.
That’s it.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
The Legend of the February Flowers
I have just booked myself and Lena a wonderful three days in the beautiful British Columbia for the first weekend in February! Gleefully taking full advantage of the tanking economy which is resulting in ridiculously cheap airfares, the two of us are going to finally meet the new baby boy born to one of my closest friends last October. This friend fled Saskatchewan many years ago, but we have managed to stay in touch and can usually pull off a visit or two each year. I can hardly wait until I get to grab that new baby and eat his face.
There are a few other reasons I am very excited about this trip, not the least of which is the fact that BC is WARM. Well, it’s Canadian warm. I’m pretty sure Casey in Florida would still freeze her ass off, but for everyone north of Montana it might as well be Hawaii. Also, I don't get much one on one time with Lena, so this trip will be a nice break for the two of us. The only thing left to contend with is the ‘BC Effect’.
For those of you not familiar with the BC Effect, it is a syndrome that inflicts all people that come to the decision to make BC their permanent residence. Once the u-haul crosses the border from Alberta to British Columbia an invisible mist engulfs the head of the soon-to-be resident and alters their molecular structure in a way that makes them forever convinced that BC is indeed the most extraordinary place on the planet. No other square foot of earth on any continent can contend with the enchantment that is British Columbia. I have family, friends, former co-workers and even mild acquaintances who have all moved to BC, and they all suffer from the BC Effect.
Now, I will concede that there are definite advantages to BC. It scores big points for scenery, warm winter weather, an impressive cultural element and the shopping is spectacular. And the people, for the most part, are very positive. Really, really positive. Stepford, positive. Nobody is fat, or smokes, or harms the environment or drives around in an obnoxious oversized pick-up with naked women on the mud flaps. They walk everywhere possible, recycle and eat organic food. It can be quite enjoyable.
The BC Effect does, however, remove all logical perspective and the ability to have a solid base in reality. This manifests itself in many ways including a consistent (albeit subtle and polite) distaste for other locations to live (mostly directed at the province from which the BC Effect sufferer originated), as well as a burning desire to convert the non-believers. I’ve known born-again Christians in my life, and they have the same unwavering conviction found in people with BC Effect.
An example of BC Effect is the legend of the February flowers. Since it’s much warmer in BC than other places in this country their flowers bloom relatively soon into the new year – usually around the middle of February. I have heard about these mystical flowers from every single person I know with BC Effect, and to hear them tell it by February of each year the minute you step out your door step you are greeted by masses of blooming bouquets so exquisite that you are immediately rendered mute by their splendor. These flowers are in fact so amazing, that BC Tourism passes out little packets of kleenex at the airport so the new arrivals can appropriately deal with the aftermath of the exploding orgasm that will inevitably occur once eyes are first laid on the February flowers.
Not being able to resist the temptation of the flower orgasm, my last trip to BC was during the month of February. The airplane ride was the best foreplay I’ve ever had. The building anticipation of seeing the February flowers was extremely overwhelming. I was heading to the Mecca. I was off to the promise land. I was going to get as close to seeing God as any mortal has come before…..
I got off the plane experiencing heights of anticipation I have never known previously and raced outside breathless with expectation.
These, ladies and gentlemen, THESE were the February flowers:
Me: Huh? That sorry little group of crocuses? THOSE are the February flowers?
BC Effect sufferer: Yes! But….. they are flowers! In FEBRUARY!
Me: Oh. Umm..yeah, they’re nice.
BC Effect sufferer: It’s FEBRUARY! And there are flowers, right there! And there is no snow on the ground!!
Me: Yeah, but it’s pouring rain and I’m just as freezing as I was when I left Saskatchewan.
BC Effect sufferer: But, I have flowers at my house too! Just wait until you see them! Flowers! In February!
Me: Hey, yeah….okay. They're great. Ummm……. do you need to borrow my kleenex?
There are a few other reasons I am very excited about this trip, not the least of which is the fact that BC is WARM. Well, it’s Canadian warm. I’m pretty sure Casey in Florida would still freeze her ass off, but for everyone north of Montana it might as well be Hawaii. Also, I don't get much one on one time with Lena, so this trip will be a nice break for the two of us. The only thing left to contend with is the ‘BC Effect’.
For those of you not familiar with the BC Effect, it is a syndrome that inflicts all people that come to the decision to make BC their permanent residence. Once the u-haul crosses the border from Alberta to British Columbia an invisible mist engulfs the head of the soon-to-be resident and alters their molecular structure in a way that makes them forever convinced that BC is indeed the most extraordinary place on the planet. No other square foot of earth on any continent can contend with the enchantment that is British Columbia. I have family, friends, former co-workers and even mild acquaintances who have all moved to BC, and they all suffer from the BC Effect.
Now, I will concede that there are definite advantages to BC. It scores big points for scenery, warm winter weather, an impressive cultural element and the shopping is spectacular. And the people, for the most part, are very positive. Really, really positive. Stepford, positive. Nobody is fat, or smokes, or harms the environment or drives around in an obnoxious oversized pick-up with naked women on the mud flaps. They walk everywhere possible, recycle and eat organic food. It can be quite enjoyable.
The BC Effect does, however, remove all logical perspective and the ability to have a solid base in reality. This manifests itself in many ways including a consistent (albeit subtle and polite) distaste for other locations to live (mostly directed at the province from which the BC Effect sufferer originated), as well as a burning desire to convert the non-believers. I’ve known born-again Christians in my life, and they have the same unwavering conviction found in people with BC Effect.
An example of BC Effect is the legend of the February flowers. Since it’s much warmer in BC than other places in this country their flowers bloom relatively soon into the new year – usually around the middle of February. I have heard about these mystical flowers from every single person I know with BC Effect, and to hear them tell it by February of each year the minute you step out your door step you are greeted by masses of blooming bouquets so exquisite that you are immediately rendered mute by their splendor. These flowers are in fact so amazing, that BC Tourism passes out little packets of kleenex at the airport so the new arrivals can appropriately deal with the aftermath of the exploding orgasm that will inevitably occur once eyes are first laid on the February flowers.
Not being able to resist the temptation of the flower orgasm, my last trip to BC was during the month of February. The airplane ride was the best foreplay I’ve ever had. The building anticipation of seeing the February flowers was extremely overwhelming. I was heading to the Mecca. I was off to the promise land. I was going to get as close to seeing God as any mortal has come before…..
I got off the plane experiencing heights of anticipation I have never known previously and raced outside breathless with expectation.
These, ladies and gentlemen, THESE were the February flowers:
Me: Huh? That sorry little group of crocuses? THOSE are the February flowers?
BC Effect sufferer: Yes! But….. they are flowers! In FEBRUARY!
Me: Oh. Umm..yeah, they’re nice.
BC Effect sufferer: It’s FEBRUARY! And there are flowers, right there! And there is no snow on the ground!!
Me: Yeah, but it’s pouring rain and I’m just as freezing as I was when I left Saskatchewan.
BC Effect sufferer: But, I have flowers at my house too! Just wait until you see them! Flowers! In February!
Me: Hey, yeah….okay. They're great. Ummm……. do you need to borrow my kleenex?
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Random Tuesday
It's FINALLY warm outside. It's been about +2 for a couple of days now and people are celebrating. This weekend I saw four people walking outside with shorts on. Snow boots and shorts is an interesting look, but hey - after such a long stretch of tundra hell I don't blame anyone for embracing the shorts. I was also able to have the first conversation with my neighbours since November. Hopefully I'll get to see them again before April. Hell, I even saw a squirrel! Thank you, Mother Nature. I wasn't going to say anything, but you've been quite the bitch lately.
My house is a complete disaster area. I've really got to start cleaning it more often. My last housekeeper quit. Again. I think that should be another New Years resolution - I hear by vow to keep my house clean enough that the maid won't get fed up enough to quit.
My children are driving me crazy. I love them, but sometimes I wish someone would take them away for a couple of days. Why do you have to get divorced in order to have a weekend off here and there? Man, they're just so needy. Mother of the Year - right here.
I have bags of potato chips and giant glasses of coke dancing around in my head. I'm pretty sure if people looked really close at the little space above my head they could see my dancing junk-food bubble too.
I really need to organize my office before I get fired.
J is in the middle of writing finals, and all I can think is that I am VERY happy I never have to write another final as long as I live. She's on the bubble for math, and I really hope she can pull it off. I'm shelling out $30/hr for a math tutor so she better frickn' pass. That will serve me right for not paying attention in math myself, I guess. When she asks me "What good is math anyway?" I'm going to tell her it's important because later in life she will save herself $30/hr twice a week in math tutor fees for her child.
Looking for a fantastic way to torture your teenager? Drop her off at school in a mini-van with 'Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy' blaring from the stereo. Extra points if you add sweet air guitar moves.
Fat Chick vs. Food - Week 3
Well, here we are at the beginning of week three. This week went OK, but similar to last week not perfect. While I didn’t have to contend with anything as horribly dramatic as cheese ball-gate 09, I did have a few food slip-ups. But each time shortly after I started to venture towards the dark side I got myself together and vowed to work harder next time. Story of my life.
At the beginning of this little adventure I decided I was going to contract the services of a personal trainer. I figured that if I had a professional create a program that was designed specifically for me it would go a long way in helping me achieving my goal of permanent weight loss. That, and I was hoping the expense and accountability that comes with meeting this person once a week might actually keep me honest. I didn’t really have a gender preference when selecting a trainer, but I did want someone I could relate to. My mental image of a personal trainer is some perky little nightmare wearing matching pink gym clothes sporting a very high ponytail with her navel on display. You know who I’m talking about - they usually have a little rose or heart tattooed on the small of their back and go by Brittney or Tiffany. I was willing to accept someone like that training me, although I had all kinds of plans to loathe her and make fun of her behind her back. After all, she is stupid and I am smart. That is the natural order of things.
Who I ended up with is not at all like that. Sure, she is an itty bitty thing, but I might have been skeptical shelling out $50/hour to someone who looks, well….like me. She is not at all annoying, and can communicate in complete sentences without inserting the world ‘like’ every few seconds. What I was really worried about (masked of course by my plans to make fun of her) was being judged, and I didn’t feel any judgment coming from Trainer-Lady at all. Even after the first visit when she weighed and measured me. That was a horrible experience. Standing half naked with my arms out having someone pull a measuring tape around all the parts I have become a master at hiding was appalling. I can't imagine what she was thinking while doing that. Was she secretly making fun of me in her head? Was she starting to panic because I could at any minute use my massive girth to squash her to bits and then eat her? Whatever she was thinking, it never showed on her face and at that moment I decided I was going to like her. Trainer-Lady is now the only other living soul on the planet that knows the real deal. I guess I’ll have to really lose the weight now. Or kill her. But I swear I wouldn't eat her.
On the exercise front I put forth a respectable effort, but not stellar. I worked out three times when my goal was four, but in my defense the weather here has been so ridiculous there were days I just couldn’t go anywhere unless it was to report for work or pick up a kid. Most of you have no idea what -40 feels like, and you are damn lucky you don’t. It sucks ass more than any adjective on earth could possibly come close to describing. I HATE it and I can’t believe I live in this province.
I am hoping this week is the week that I really step it up. The weather is supposed to dramatically improve and the days are starting to get just a little bit longer. Soon I expect the light will come on and my inner health freak is going to rise up and be victorious. Hope springs eternal, right?
Right?
I lost 2.4 pounds last week. 56 to go.
At the beginning of this little adventure I decided I was going to contract the services of a personal trainer. I figured that if I had a professional create a program that was designed specifically for me it would go a long way in helping me achieving my goal of permanent weight loss. That, and I was hoping the expense and accountability that comes with meeting this person once a week might actually keep me honest. I didn’t really have a gender preference when selecting a trainer, but I did want someone I could relate to. My mental image of a personal trainer is some perky little nightmare wearing matching pink gym clothes sporting a very high ponytail with her navel on display. You know who I’m talking about - they usually have a little rose or heart tattooed on the small of their back and go by Brittney or Tiffany. I was willing to accept someone like that training me, although I had all kinds of plans to loathe her and make fun of her behind her back. After all, she is stupid and I am smart. That is the natural order of things.
Who I ended up with is not at all like that. Sure, she is an itty bitty thing, but I might have been skeptical shelling out $50/hour to someone who looks, well….like me. She is not at all annoying, and can communicate in complete sentences without inserting the world ‘like’ every few seconds. What I was really worried about (masked of course by my plans to make fun of her) was being judged, and I didn’t feel any judgment coming from Trainer-Lady at all. Even after the first visit when she weighed and measured me. That was a horrible experience. Standing half naked with my arms out having someone pull a measuring tape around all the parts I have become a master at hiding was appalling. I can't imagine what she was thinking while doing that. Was she secretly making fun of me in her head? Was she starting to panic because I could at any minute use my massive girth to squash her to bits and then eat her? Whatever she was thinking, it never showed on her face and at that moment I decided I was going to like her. Trainer-Lady is now the only other living soul on the planet that knows the real deal. I guess I’ll have to really lose the weight now. Or kill her. But I swear I wouldn't eat her.
On the exercise front I put forth a respectable effort, but not stellar. I worked out three times when my goal was four, but in my defense the weather here has been so ridiculous there were days I just couldn’t go anywhere unless it was to report for work or pick up a kid. Most of you have no idea what -40 feels like, and you are damn lucky you don’t. It sucks ass more than any adjective on earth could possibly come close to describing. I HATE it and I can’t believe I live in this province.
I am hoping this week is the week that I really step it up. The weather is supposed to dramatically improve and the days are starting to get just a little bit longer. Soon I expect the light will come on and my inner health freak is going to rise up and be victorious. Hope springs eternal, right?
Right?
I lost 2.4 pounds last week. 56 to go.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Cue the red carpet and the guys with really long trumpets
Hello the four people who read this blog! Isn't this a big improvement? A big shout out to Rachel at Blog Candy Designs for helping me fix up the hot mess that was my previous blog. I am very creative in my head, but I have no ability whatsoever to actually deliver on anything. Rachel, on the other hand, is extremely creative and I think a little psychic because most of my descriptions to her were extremely flaky and she figured me out anyway. Big props to Rachel.
You will see once you look around a bit that I have a few new items that I'm hoping to update in the very near future. My current obstacle (now that I don't have to be ashamed at how pathetic my blog looks) is that my children have TOTALLY buggered up my computer by downloading all sorts of things that exist to wreck me, and if that wasn't enough they left the desk lamp on and pulled down to about 3 inches away from the keyboard and melted everything left of 2wsx. I am NOT impressed. So, I have a brand new laptop on order that will be MINE MINE MINE. I had to hold the 'shift' key down the whole time I was typing that because the 'caps lock' is left of 2wsx. Curse those children....
As I was saying, once my laptop arrives and I refuse to let anyone touch it other than ME I can lock myself in my bedroom and pretend to be masterbating all while I'm really updating the blog. Keely told me to use that excuse so you can blame her for the ewww factor you just experienced.
You will see once you look around a bit that I have a few new items that I'm hoping to update in the very near future. My current obstacle (now that I don't have to be ashamed at how pathetic my blog looks) is that my children have TOTALLY buggered up my computer by downloading all sorts of things that exist to wreck me, and if that wasn't enough they left the desk lamp on and pulled down to about 3 inches away from the keyboard and melted everything left of 2wsx. I am NOT impressed. So, I have a brand new laptop on order that will be MINE MINE MINE. I had to hold the 'shift' key down the whole time I was typing that because the 'caps lock' is left of 2wsx. Curse those children....
As I was saying, once my laptop arrives and I refuse to let anyone touch it other than ME I can lock myself in my bedroom and pretend to be masterbating all while I'm really updating the blog. Keely told me to use that excuse so you can blame her for the ewww factor you just experienced.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Dirty Words and Lu Lu Lemon don't mix
I have a question – at what age do you allow your child to start swearing? The adults in my household have some major potty-mouths and while we try (sort of) to keep it g-rated around the little ones the rest of the time we sound like the Osbourns. J is fifteen and told me to fuck off about three times yesterday. I know that all of you with your little ankle bitters are totally horrified that something so vile will someday be uttered by your little ones, but I was OK with it because it was in context. As in, it wasn’t your typical fifteen year-old teenage head case screaming “FUCK OFF MOM I HATE YOU!!” it was, “I’m trying to finish my homework so would you just fuck off already?” She’s a good kid, but I casually ask her if she’s a crack head every once in a while just to keep her on her toes. She just rolls her eyes and tells me to fuck off. According to 20/20 all kids who end up crack heads start off good kids, so I’m just practicing due diligence.
Every time J swears I tell her to stop swearing, but clearly she knows I don’t care because she tells me to fuck off when I say that. Should I care? I don’t. Is it all that bad that I don’t really care? I'm not sure. She doesn’t gratuitously swear (at least not around me), and the rest of her vocabulary is pretty impressive for a child that age. I heard her call her friend a troglodyte the other day, so obviously her potty-mouth hasn’t compromised her ability to use more sophisticated words when insulting people.
J did, however, get kicked out of homeroom the other day for telling a girl to fuck off because she’s stupid. The girl in question (part of the ‘Lu-Lu Lemon crowd’ as J calls them) did not know what an inauguration was, and was making fun of J who was trying to lead the class in a discussion about how important the impending American inauguration of Obama is to Canada. Granted, your average 15 year-old girl is a lot more focused on trying to find a way to meet the Jonas Brothers than she is on who our political leaders are, but J is the type of person who feels it necessary to enlighten the stupid. Should she have chosen a more constructive way to prove her point? Probably. But she didn’t get kicked out of class because she was wrong, she got kicked out for using the world ‘fuck’. Not appropriate for high school, but neither is being fifteen years-old and never having heard the word ‘inauguration’ before. Still, I was initially mad until J explained that the “fuck, you’re stupid” comment came after the Lu-Lu Lemon girl asked if inauguration was a basketball term. “Fuck, you’re stupid” suddenly seemed very appropriate to me.
Every time J swears I tell her to stop swearing, but clearly she knows I don’t care because she tells me to fuck off when I say that. Should I care? I don’t. Is it all that bad that I don’t really care? I'm not sure. She doesn’t gratuitously swear (at least not around me), and the rest of her vocabulary is pretty impressive for a child that age. I heard her call her friend a troglodyte the other day, so obviously her potty-mouth hasn’t compromised her ability to use more sophisticated words when insulting people.
J did, however, get kicked out of homeroom the other day for telling a girl to fuck off because she’s stupid. The girl in question (part of the ‘Lu-Lu Lemon crowd’ as J calls them) did not know what an inauguration was, and was making fun of J who was trying to lead the class in a discussion about how important the impending American inauguration of Obama is to Canada. Granted, your average 15 year-old girl is a lot more focused on trying to find a way to meet the Jonas Brothers than she is on who our political leaders are, but J is the type of person who feels it necessary to enlighten the stupid. Should she have chosen a more constructive way to prove her point? Probably. But she didn’t get kicked out of class because she was wrong, she got kicked out for using the world ‘fuck’. Not appropriate for high school, but neither is being fifteen years-old and never having heard the word ‘inauguration’ before. Still, I was initially mad until J explained that the “fuck, you’re stupid” comment came after the Lu-Lu Lemon girl asked if inauguration was a basketball term. “Fuck, you’re stupid” suddenly seemed very appropriate to me.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Fat Chick vs. Food - Week 2
Hi there! Yes, I know it’s Tuesday but I have been VERY busy lately. This fulltime job thing is really starting to impinge upon my blogging.
The first week of operation fat-no-more went fairly well. It could have been better, but I think I did alright since it was the first week out of the gate.
On the food side of things I put forth a respectable effort other than Saturday night. I was good all day, but then I had to attend my brother-in-law’s birthday party that night. I ate before I left (a nice greek salad with chicken) and gave myself a pep talk the whole way over – “you will not eat all that shit the SIL will have covering every table of her house. You will drink only the mineral water you are bringing with you…”
When I first got there I was fine! Just some chips and cheese and crackers out – no biggy! I wasn’t hungry so I managed to stay away from them. Then, the SIL brings out a warm gooey goodness in the form of a ham and cheesy garlic dip baked right into a hollowed out loaf of french bread. What did she do with the part of the loaf she removed you ask? She cut it into little pieces so her guests could use the white fluffy french bread to eat the warm gooey goodness cheesy ham garlic dip. Yikes! I started madly affirming in my head –
“You will not eat all that shit the SIL will have covering every table of her house. You will drink only the mineral water you are bringing with you…” … You will not eat all that shit the SIL will have covering every table of her house. You will drink only the mineral water you are bringing with you…”
OK, mild panic, but I think I can get through it. Can I? Wait! Is that my arm going for a piece of bread? No! Stop!! What are you doing?? OMG!! Wha..!? You look like you’re going to use it to eat that dip! You ARE going for the dip! STOP! STOP!! Noooooooo………
I think you know how that ended. Alright, so I indulged in a little bread and warm gooey goodness cheesy ham garlic dip. Not TOO bad; I didn’t pig out as much as I normally would have, so that’s good, right?
But then the SIL brought out dessert. Do you know what sadistic unspeakable atrocity she created? This. For those of you too lazy to click anything right now let me sum up. This is not just any cheese ball, but a ball made from cream cheese, butter, icing sugar, brown sugar, vanilla and chocolate chips. All rolled together, chilled and covered in nuts. And just for fun she brought out chocolate graham wafers to eat it with.
So what did I do? The same thing millions who have been dealing with the food thing for years before me have done –
“Well, since I’ve already fallen off the wagon with the warm gooey goodness cheesy ham garlic dip, I might as well go whole hog and eat the cheese ball! Right? What do you mean I’m making it worse? Fuck you Inner Voice, that cheese ball looks AWESOME. Yes, I said fuck you. I’m Food Addiction and I am bigger and louder than you are right now. Huh? What do you mean I’m too fat to eat that? Who cares! At the moment I am kicking your skinny little ass all over the place. Just ask your woefully put upon stomach while it’s digesting the warm gooey goodness cheesy ham garlic dip. Oh yeah? You are no match for me – just watch this!! That’s right; I just had a handful of BBQ chips as a chaser. Don’t fuck with me Inner Voice…..
Yeah, so that was Saturday. The rest of the weekend went better than most weekends, but I did end up overeating a bit on Sunday. Not horribly bad, but Inner-Voice was still rallying the troops and organizing a counter offensive at that point so Food Addiction made more headway that he should have. However, the last few days Inner Voice has made a come back and she is ready to kick some ass. It’s -40 and snowing like a bastard and she is still making me haul my ass to the gym tonight. Go inner voice go!
I lost 1.6 pounds last week. 58.4 to go.
The first week of operation fat-no-more went fairly well. It could have been better, but I think I did alright since it was the first week out of the gate.
On the food side of things I put forth a respectable effort other than Saturday night. I was good all day, but then I had to attend my brother-in-law’s birthday party that night. I ate before I left (a nice greek salad with chicken) and gave myself a pep talk the whole way over – “you will not eat all that shit the SIL will have covering every table of her house. You will drink only the mineral water you are bringing with you…”
When I first got there I was fine! Just some chips and cheese and crackers out – no biggy! I wasn’t hungry so I managed to stay away from them. Then, the SIL brings out a warm gooey goodness in the form of a ham and cheesy garlic dip baked right into a hollowed out loaf of french bread. What did she do with the part of the loaf she removed you ask? She cut it into little pieces so her guests could use the white fluffy french bread to eat the warm gooey goodness cheesy ham garlic dip. Yikes! I started madly affirming in my head –
“You will not eat all that shit the SIL will have covering every table of her house. You will drink only the mineral water you are bringing with you…” … You will not eat all that shit the SIL will have covering every table of her house. You will drink only the mineral water you are bringing with you…”
OK, mild panic, but I think I can get through it. Can I? Wait! Is that my arm going for a piece of bread? No! Stop!! What are you doing?? OMG!! Wha..!? You look like you’re going to use it to eat that dip! You ARE going for the dip! STOP! STOP!! Noooooooo………
I think you know how that ended. Alright, so I indulged in a little bread and warm gooey goodness cheesy ham garlic dip. Not TOO bad; I didn’t pig out as much as I normally would have, so that’s good, right?
But then the SIL brought out dessert. Do you know what sadistic unspeakable atrocity she created? This. For those of you too lazy to click anything right now let me sum up. This is not just any cheese ball, but a ball made from cream cheese, butter, icing sugar, brown sugar, vanilla and chocolate chips. All rolled together, chilled and covered in nuts. And just for fun she brought out chocolate graham wafers to eat it with.
So what did I do? The same thing millions who have been dealing with the food thing for years before me have done –
“Well, since I’ve already fallen off the wagon with the warm gooey goodness cheesy ham garlic dip, I might as well go whole hog and eat the cheese ball! Right? What do you mean I’m making it worse? Fuck you Inner Voice, that cheese ball looks AWESOME. Yes, I said fuck you. I’m Food Addiction and I am bigger and louder than you are right now. Huh? What do you mean I’m too fat to eat that? Who cares! At the moment I am kicking your skinny little ass all over the place. Just ask your woefully put upon stomach while it’s digesting the warm gooey goodness cheesy ham garlic dip. Oh yeah? You are no match for me – just watch this!! That’s right; I just had a handful of BBQ chips as a chaser. Don’t fuck with me Inner Voice…..
Yeah, so that was Saturday. The rest of the weekend went better than most weekends, but I did end up overeating a bit on Sunday. Not horribly bad, but Inner-Voice was still rallying the troops and organizing a counter offensive at that point so Food Addiction made more headway that he should have. However, the last few days Inner Voice has made a come back and she is ready to kick some ass. It’s -40 and snowing like a bastard and she is still making me haul my ass to the gym tonight. Go inner voice go!
I lost 1.6 pounds last week. 58.4 to go.
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