oh, it was a tough match today. my diet was fired up having done 60 minutes of cardio last night and ate well enough on the 1200-calorie plan to make a dent in the previous night's dinner of 2 stale pieces of pizza and bag of doritos from the hospital cafeteria. i even drank two bottles of water.
my diet feels motivated when i wake up with a slight hunger in my belly, and when in the shower, i can feel my pelvic bones. i imagine that one day -- there will be no soft rounded bulge in between them. but my diet has been on a mission. 5 straight week of loses (gains in poundage) has stressed both me and my diet out. we tell ourselves we're doing everything right while blindly omitting the sins of asiago cheese bagels, breadsticks and pizza we've fornicated with those weeks. (see a pattern -- cheese, bread, cheesy bread. ah, if only life were so simple!)
but the fact of the matter is, unless i shake that ass at the gym, the needle on the scale isn't moving. i could starve myself; but even if i had the willpower (1 hour past missing lunch and the tapeworm in my belly starts acting like the alien in "alien" -- lemme the fuck out of here now so i can go to quiznos!) nothing would really happen to my fine, pear-shaped, bootylicious bod.
no, i need to torture myself, kicking and lunging at imaginary people, tirelessly bike to nowhere for an hour and end up just where i began . . . with a bubble butt and marshmallow thighs*
my diet's strategy for a win (lose) this week, was simple -- get the ass moving at the gym. i was on spring break this week, the one night i am i class that i blame for my failure on the scale was cancelled. i had no excuses this time. i could be a winner (loser).
once again, the cards were stacked against me like the flapjacks that i haven't eaten in god knows how long!
monday night -- sadie had a vet appt to get stitches removed. scratch.
tuesday night -- no school, but had to work late. scratch. (don't worry still have a solid 3 nights in a row.)
wednesday -- get a phone call for a family emergency (hence the hospital). scratch and point for the other fat cells for the pizza & doritos.
thursday night -- i got you sucker. boo-yah!
friday night -- tonight. a night that could tip the scales in a positive way . . .
brick. as in "she's a brick h-o-o-o-u-u-se. she's the one. the only one. built like an amazon."
+ + + + + + +
nope, not getting to the gym when hubby is striken with a bout of tequila flu and reenacting the exorcist in my bedroom. after sucking all the cold out of our downstairs bathroom's slate floor, his attempt to make it to the upstairs bathroom to suck the cold from there was unsuccessful.
really, i'm not sure why he thought this in the first place since the upstairs bathroom is carpeted and the thought of laying on that nasty carpet makes ME nauseous. and i haven't thrown back a few toxic margaritas from tex-mex this evening.
in between his drunken mumbled apologies and promises to clean the carpet (damn right!) i think i hear the giggling and hi-fives from my fat cells on another victory.
*marshmallow thighs? oh yeah, that is one of my mother's famous back-handed compliments given to me a few years ago. as in, "your thighs are so soft... like soft, marshmallow pillows." unfortunately, she said this in front of my younger brother, who has vowed to never let me live it down.
No comments:
Post a Comment