I had this fabulous intention to write a Mother's Day entry Sunday. To celebrate a few great mom's I know (Ugs, Bugs, Gator & Bear) but then I stepped on the scale. Major shit attack. Hysteria ensued, I stopped breathing and if I had clothes on - I maybe would have let myself pass out in hopes I would knock myself into a fucking coma and wake up 60 lbs. lighter and with super long Barbie hair. But alas, after the soul killing news the scale gave me, it is more likely I would of been all sprawled out on the closet floor with a black eye, a missing tooth and broken arm. Naked. For The Man to discover. Sexy. So I had a little cry (read: silent, blood curdling bitch fit) and kicked the scale. Just as an aside: the scale does not care when one kicks it- it does however- ensure your perfectly pink new pedicure is chipped. Since I don't have Opi's Hot In My Cabana at home- I was pushed further off of the WTF cliff. The fucking scale calls me a fat pig AND I have a ghetto pedicure. Mother's Day was awesome!
I am plus 9 pounds- moving me back up to 220. Now I could cry or I could just go ahead and call an official Come to Jesus Meeting and see what all of this fuckedupedness (thank you for that word, BFF Carrie) is about. As it turns out- it is all my fault- shocker, I know! I have not been true to my mission or to me. So, the meeting is officially in session and let the butt hurts begin. And no crying, it's not like the Pope came and stole all of my stilettos. Just my ass is a little bigger. At least my feet didn't gain weight. And i'm not pregnant. See, shining fucking silver lining in everything. Yippee.
1. I have been eating chicken. And tuna. Seems restaurants thinks a shit ton of cheese is an acceptable meat substitute. So I figure a little chicken or fish is way better than eating a 3 pound glob of melted franken-cheese that is likely hiding all kinds of weird hormones and rocket fuel. Don't believe rocket fuel is in the cheese? Go read this . I may have had some cow. No pork though, because it gives me night mares. No really, like spring out of bed, scream my head off and piss myself nightmares. Don't know why that happens but it is an excellent deterrent. If only all of the other farm animals made me wig out- well I guess I wouldn't have anything to blog about. Except my shitty days and generally craptastic experiences. I digress (I always wanted to say digress- sounds fancy- so there I said it. Golf clap). At any rate- back to NO MEAT. Period. If I must- I will make an exception for fish. Nothing from the land. That is all.
2. It's possible I have been so happy at happy hours- that I have eaten way too many chips, drank too much queso and perhaps have learned that just because margaritas have plant juice in them- does not make them a healthy salad.
3. I started drinking soda again. Soda hates me and my hips. I hate you back soda- for reallies this time.
4. I have not taken my ass out on a walk for a week or two. I started up again last night. The Girl and I walked 5 miles. Five. I spent most of the walk near cardiac arrest but I made it. I shall repeat this tonight.
5. I have to break up with Starbuck's. It was a lovely affair and I will miss the most delicious icy cold frappaccinos. But all good things come to an end or they will go to my end.
6. The next time I am tempted- I will ask myself, "Do I love this food more than I love being a size 10?". That answer will always be a resounding no followed by me sprinting away. Ok, not sprinting away- I don't sprint. I will walk quickly- like I see a 80% off Coach bags sign ahead.
Come to Jesus meeting is adjourned. Nothing like a little honesty to make me feel all ass hurt- but it had to happen. Here's to a happy weigh in on Monday. Speaking of weigh ins- I look forward to telling you about my Dr's. appointment I had yesterday. Oh yeah- God hates women for sure!