Fatsy Monday.
We’ve got a wedding to go to in about 5 weeks and because I am a girl I am already panicking about what to wear.
This weekend it was suddenly about 900 degrees outside and beautiful. Unfortunately, I could not enjoy it very much because I believe it was nature’s way of kicking me in the balls about nutrition and possibly not drinking so many cocktails all the time. The truth is I’m in much better shape than I was last spring when this happened and I was coming down from a three month marathon of divorce karaoke, divorce jaeger shots, and divorce Jack in the Box so I’m not freaking the fuck out the way I was then. HOWEVER, I’m still not quite ready for tank tops and skirts and flip flops the way every girl wants to be all the time. So today begins my re-commitment ceremony to healthy living. And drinking wine at bars instead of delicious boozy margaritas because a glass of wine takes about 14 hours to drink and a chocolate martini takes about negative 5 seconds.
Maybe you shouldn’t drink any alcohol at all, you say?
Well, to that I say, keep your morals off my goddamn lawn, you hooligan! I do so love my delicious wine and it loves me back and who are you to put boundaries on a love that is hurting no one except my waistline and why are you judging me and subsequently marginalizing functional alcoholics everywhere? It’s hurtful and, dare I say it, IGNORANT.
So I’m going to dial back my portion sizes AGAIN and mostly just lay off the boozy drinks and up the exercising a little but mostly I am going to try not to obsess about it too much. If I was 22 I would be able to lose 9 pounds in a week just by forgetting to eat but now that I’m an adult I never forget to eat. EVER. I do however, still forget to pay bills because I have no ability to prioritize. Like, two months ago right now I should be doing our taxes. Instead I am writing a blog post about dieting and alcohol and that is because I would rather talk about dieting and alcohol than discuss the merits of a five party system (although that sounds alcohol-y, right?) or Sudanese politics. And this should explain to you why I will never, ever be a respected journalist at The New Republic. I will just forever be known as that one blogger who thinks AIDS is funny.
Do as I say, not as I do.
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10 comments
you have perfected the Stink Eye.
well done.
Don’t worry. If the people I saw out and about Friday afternoon are any indication, nobody else is ready for tank tops and skirts and flip flops, either. Didn’t seem to stop them.
Aaargghh - I hate wedding season and summer clothes. Plus, I find that it drives me to booze, which just makes things worse.
nice finger wag..
ps. despite your categorical declaration, aids IS funny. so is cancer, but NEITHER are as funny as IBS or tourette’s.
I have a hangover today because I had Liquid Wine Dinner last night instead of Solid Food Dinner as part of my fabulous new weight loss plan where I skip the food and just have the wine, thereby cutting my calorie intake in half. At. Least.
Would you like to try this diet with me? We can even have meetings if you want.
That picture reminds me of this, because I am a nerd:
http://www.coolrom.com/screenshots/genesis/Sonic%20the%20Hedgehog.gif
That picture reminds me of this…
Jesus, it’s uncanny.
Chris- Thank you. It’s my talent.
Justin-Really? you have no idea how comforting that is
Meg-EXACTLY. Catch 22. I hate it.
Ken- You are right. It is funny. And also, hey! You’re Kristin’s husband! Hi!
Kristin-That is called Drunkorexia, my friend and you can count me IN.
Robert-OMG. YES.
Charley-Right? That’s ME!!!
I keep telling myself that maybe my crushing depression and inertia will be eased if I quit drinking, but seriously, it’s just not reason enough. Well, maybe it is.
For realsies. They all looked awful.
Then again, I was a little biased. I was standing there in multiple layers, wearing my jacket because my hands were full and I didn’t have anywhere to put it and it was totally way too hot for someone like me and I was really hoping that one of them would be so unaccustomed to walking in her flipflops that she’d trip and fall in front of the train just because she was in shorts and I had my shirt tucked in.
And that makes me cranky.
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