My own little Cinnabon Hell

"Why," I ask myself, "does my house smell like a Cinnabon, that sell pork?"

Answer:

Because Andy decided to make Spam with brown sugar glaze with eggs for dinner, and then put a wax tart that smells like cinnamon rolls in the tart warmer.

Why does that make me want to go on a murderous rampage?

Because I started my "Official" diet, aka Fast for a Month-plan today.

What is allowed on my diet for the first 3 days, you ask? Water, Iced tea with Sweet and Low, and Coffee with fat free creamer.

A food fast.

That's right. I am hardcore and have to shrink the stomach to reduce cravings, while flushing everything out of my body, and re-set my metabolic clock.

That is the kind of Cage-Fighter willpower I have. Once I get on a roll, and commit...I am a dieting ninja.

The challenge in sticking to my diet is going to be my alcohol consumption this weekend, as my inlaws are coming. And Canadian drink. ALOT. That is one of the "Pros" of my husband's family. They drink like fish. My family..it is a "Con". They need to drink MORE. And we're going to Napa, which is like the gates of heaven were flung wide open and Angels fly about refilling your glass.

My husband has been occupying himself with posting listings on CL to barter items we don't need or use. He thinks that due to the show Barter Kings, he can trade a bunch of tools and crap for a boat or hot tub or RV to work on for something to keep himself busy. Instead, we've gotten an XBox, a Generator and a bicycle.

The XBox was promptly taken to GameStop to cash in. The Generator, I am not sure he should trade, as it is the year that the world will end, or at the very least, a solar flare will knock out the grid, causing mass chaos and hysteria because of all the technology we depend on. And that, my friends, is God/Goddesses' lesson to all of us that we worship technology.

The bicycle, I look at daily.

Should I mount it?

Can I even ride a bike anymore? When is the last time I was actually ON one? Will my giant ass envelope the seat?

I keep telling myself that I WILL ride one day. I will use that for my requisite exercise that everyone tries to tell me that I need to do to lose weight. (Which is BULLSHIT)

It's bullshit because I've lost weight a million times NOT EXERCISING. And then everyone wants to say, "Well, it's not healthy to lose weight by starving yourself."
And I say, "Well, it's healthier than being fat."
And people say when I gripe about gaining back all the depression weight loss I had, that I didn't lose that in a healthy way. Like it's supposed to matter. The only GOOD thing that came out of my life-altering, come to Jesus, knock me down backwards depression WAS the weight loss. Because if nothing else, I looked hot as balls.

But instead, the Dr put me on hardcore meds to knock me out because I hadn't slept in a year, and I gladly followed the Pied Piper with his sleep drugs, not realizing they made me crave sweet stuff at midnight, which I was happy to oblige.

Sleep or Skinny?

Happy or Skinny? (Happiness includes food binges, say...on fondue and bread.)

It all sucks, and now I have to pay the price.
Goddammit.

Calling in fat today...

I am really glad I work from home.

Somewhere between March and June, I gained like 50 lbs. Which really sucks because I had lost that much and bought a bunch of skinny clothes that are now mocking me from my closet down the hall.

I hear them. It grates on my self-image. I feel disgusting for the first time since my tummy tuck a few years ago.

I can't win some days. I try to quit everything that I like. Smoking, eating, anti-anxiety medication. And it doesn't work, because I don't really want to quit.

And everyone feels the need when I bitch about my weight, to explain to me like I'm half-retarded, that I need to exercise.

Huh?

What?

X-ER-SIZE? What does that mean?
I dont care if you are my bff or my mother...if you tell me I need to exercise and watch what I eat, like I've been living in a cave and had no exposure to "healthy living" ideas and that bullshit food pyramid, I WILL bitch-slap you.

I know I am supposed to exercise. I just don't feel like it. Maybe you don't know, because you've never been fat, but the fatter you get, the HARDER IT IS to move. It's exercise for me to walk up a flight of stairs. And I am not even like, hugely fat.

And you think you have company in misery, and then everyone you know who was reliably fat with you goes and gets digestive surgery and loses all the weight.

It really pisses me off. Don't leave me in fatness alone! That means if I am fatter than someone who has ALWAYS been fat, then its like being picked last in gym class, and I have to exercise. Which means I have to quit smoking so I don't fall over when I lose my breath in five minutes.

Everything I knew to be true, was a LIE.

Screw Yoga. And besides, I’m not that flexible anyway.

^{Maybe it’s because of my parents. Or maybe it’s because I DON”T drink enough. Either way, my life is not what you would call “balanced.” I don’t really know anyone whose truly is. There is always something missing in your life…something unattainable and teetering on the edge of “off”.} 

^{I am a passionate person. I love hard, I play hard, I crash hard. I don’t believe in doing things halfway. If I am going to fail at something (which I have plenty of times) then at least I will succeed in failing. And I am okay with that, because I have realistic expectations about my life, and I know that shit is going to happen.}

^{This being said, I am a horrible over-analyzer…to the point it gives me panic attacks. (Hence, the Xanax)}

^{This is a recent gift that has been bestowed upon me, in the last, say, two years… pretty much since I moved to New York. It sucks. It feels like someone is sitting on your chest and you feel, well…panicky. What do I stress out about? All things that I have no control over..that’s why I am stressed. I have a certain amount of faith in my own abilities, and relatively none in anyone else. In the evening, I look forward to taking my Xanax and not stressing out. Have a cup of tea and just sit and relax.}

^{My problem is that I have to stop taking it because I think it’s making me depressed. Well, that and the fact I am depriving my body of delicious things to eat that make me happy. Oh, and there could also be some residual effects from the fact I HATE where I live and it’s miserably cold, boring and dreary. I think that about sums it up. But I think it’s mostly the pills. It’s also made me have almost no desire to have sex, which, for me is highly unusual. So I stopped taking it about two weeks ago and am waiting for my internal fountain to spring once again. And I am going on vacation in approximately 2 months, and then I am moving somewhere where people can breed without medical approval…which will be a HUGE stress while it’s happening, yet relieving at the same time.}

^{Until then, however, if I get one more person explaining the finer points of yoga, I swear I will do some ninja moves on your ass and help you find YOUR inner chi. My brain works too fast to meditate, I don’t look good in spandex and you can call it what you want, but it’s still exercise. You are fooling NO ONE! In the meantime, I will increase my alcohol consumption and sleep a lot.}

^{I open my chakra’s with Mojito’s, baby.}

I was nominated on Babble's Top 50 Mom Blogs List. So pretty please take two minutes and click here: http://www.babble.com/babble-50/mommy-bloggers/nominate-a-blogger/index.aspx then scroll down to "Glamorous Life" and click on the "like" button.
Thanks a bunch!