I quit today. I caved; abandoned all hope of victory over the flab that rules my body.
I can’t take it anymore.
As I write this I’m shoving Nacho Cheese Doritos down my throat and feeling sick. Sick of the world. Sick of food marketers. Sick of bad food that tastes good. Sick of avoiding all the food I enjoy.
I don’t have what it takes. Skinny girls really are a special breed.
Yeah, I’m ashamed. I hate myself. More than that, I HATE hating myself just because it’s so easy to eat an entire family sized bag of Doritos.
Why’d they have to make them so damn good, cheap and convenient? (There’s a hooker joke I’m not going to put right here) I can get them in three flavors in the vending machine right outside of my office door for less than $1.
The Doritos weren’t even my only indiscretion. I’ve been cheating my ass off – except my ass is only getting bigger.
Last week I went to a Pure Romance party where they sell “intimate” devices for lovers – enough said – and in between licking flavored lotions off each other’s arms and sniffing each other’s boobs, women eat dips and sweets.
The first thing I saw was a tray of delectable homemade cream puffs.
My immediate instinct was to tackle that tray and have my way with it, but I didn’t.
I fought the urge and won for about an hour until the evil maker of said creampuffs practically shoved one down my all too willing throat.
Thank you Cathy’s creampuffs, you have ruined my life.
Thank you Cathy’s creampuffs, you have ruined my life.
It didn’t stop with the creampuff. Over the weekend, away from home, I ate two jumbo chocolate chip cookies and felt guilty and fat and horrible with every sweet gooey bite ... but I did it anyway.
What’s worse – I haven’t been walking nearly as much since that immoral little pastry entered my life.
Now I’m feeling FAT and lazy and horrible and I just want to quit.
Even worse is that my week is filled with meetings and another weekend away from home with more good food opportunities.
What’s a PHAT girl supposed to do?
So I quit. At least until Monday.
8 comments:
those creampuffs were awesome. Im sure i had at least 4> i made melody's birthday cake so now we have half a cake & two half tubs of frosting leftover plus ice cream in the fridge. i told myself today its all going in the trash tomorrow. but that didnt stop me from eating a good 4 or so spoonfulls of chocolate frosting from the can. mmm. i keep wanting to make better meals and exercise more but it just doesnt happen. i need a personal trainer & a live in chef. I i dont know why i cant seem to make a salad for myself. anyway... on to another weekend of partying and no doubt eating smores and drinking lite beer around the campfire!! lol i have some humungous marshmallows to roast!! hahah not to mention i have a photo shoot next wednesday.. ! my point is that u are not alone. not that that makes anyone feel any better...
Mmmm chocolate frosting.
I too am starting to believe it is impossible to make salads at home - the damn lettuce just doesn't want to come through the door. Who am I to fight?
You know exactly what I'm talking about. You should be a guest blogger. I will toast you with a beer and a smore this weekend. I'll bring the chocolate hazelnut Nutella - Mmmmm.
I know this blog was about food, but from the hooker non-joke on...I was thinking about sex. I'm not sure if you did this on purpose, but there are a few sentences in there that could go either way. Thats what she said.
Rene you have to try the Hula-Hoop... It's so easy and it's fun!!!! I promise it works!!!
Oh Nate. I've heard laughter makes you lose weight, but I know that's a lie because hanging around you I'd be a stick figure by now.
Anon: The hula-hoop is on my agenda, I'm just having trouble finding someone willing to video me doing it for the blog - I'm not sure why.
Hey Nate, So 3 hookers walk into a bar ...
Have you ever prayed about this?
Lighten up on yourself, lady. Try dieting six days a week, and on one day, give yourself permission to have what you want -- in moderation, of course. Want a slice of cake on that day? Have one. The theory is that you don't feel so deprived on the other six days, so it's a little easier to stick to your guns.
You're so sensible Paula. I ask again: Can I come live with you? Pretty please?
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