There’s this battle going on inside me between the person I am and the person I want to be. Before you get all sappy and concerned (and I have to punch you in the face), I am not talking emotions. I’m talking fat, bitches. When you get married they say “two become one.” So splain to me why when you are are born your “two” never become one. One is pounding out crunches like Richard Simmons and the other one is pounding Rose’ like Sue Ellen. Ying and Yang? More like like Little Debbie and Big Deborah. For 51 years I can’t get these bitches together. I’ve come close….like Yangish but never all the way. I work out enough to pull off the trickery of appearing to be in shape but behind the scenes I’m all up in a Cro’nut. I’d like to merge but the task appears to big for me to handle. I thought about giving it over to Jesus but I’ve asked him to take the wheel too many times. I believe he knows “both” of me and doesn’t care for either. The struggle is real. Ya can’t pray away crazy ya’ll.
So I remain in a pickle. I need to pick a team. Team fatty or team annoying workout eat quinoa boring nobody likes team. You can see where my loyalty lies. Fatties have more fun. Bumper sticker forthcoming. Honestly trying to eat right and exercise may be beyond the limits of my tolerance on this earth. It would seem no matter what I do it’s wrong. Count calories they say. Oh but all calories aren’t equal. Don’t eat carbs they say. Oh but you need carbs to build muscle. Do more cardio they say. Oh but don’t forget to lift weights bcs muscle burns more calories. If you could hear my brain spinning, this would be the tune of choice. It’s a cyclone of ticks and useless information. It usually leads me to Taco Bell where my mind can rest easy. There’s no one telling me to get the grilled chicken taco. My people offer more suitable advice such as “Don’t forget to make it a grande combo.” Information I can work with.
While I’m questioning life, why is it that it always seems so easy to clean up your act…eat right, go the gym, stop drinking etc…when you are eating bad, not going to the gym and knocking back wine? I sit on my couch all fatted out thinking “Yeh I can totally get back on track Monday. I just won’t do x, y or z. I’m just having a bad week.” I’ve been having a bad week for exactly 2659.286 weeks….for the slow crowd that equates to 51 years. I Googled it my damn self. When I’m full, fat and happy I can plot “New Me” like a MOFO! I can feel what I will look like, I have all the clothes needed for skinny me (assuming no dry rot) and I mentally reconnect with the annoying salad eating crowd I ditched for my fat friends. I guess it’s like any addiction. You have to stop hanging around the people who make you do the things you no longer want to do. Like me. Maybe I should stop hanging around me. Hmmm….I wonder if any of my friends cheated on me to hook up with someone sans multiple personalities. More research is needed. I’ll be the first to tell you I am the worst friend if you are on a diet. I can take you down quicker than a Ho and a hundred dolla bill. Mmmmkkkkay…
Le sigh. I try so hard. I’m 3 days into no drinking, eating right and going to the gym. There’s no chip, no joy and no weight loss. If you say muscle weighs more than fat I will look up your IP address and bitch slap you. 3 days of goodness = misery. 3 days knee deep in tacos and Rose’ all Day = Fatopia. I blame society. “They” make us feel like we need to be better than we are. Do more. Weigh Less. Bla Bla. The only good thing “they” ever made me do is wear a mask. It’s hard to eat with a mask on. It’s also hard to breathe but no one cares about that little fact. I could just come to grips with the fact that I like to eat and drink wine. But then I would have to make up with the fatties. I would be the skinniest fat girl so that’s a thing. Kinda like the prettiest ugly girl. I’m not sure I’m liking any of this. In the meantime I’ll let you know if my “two” ever become one. There’s sure to be a ceremony of some sort. I love cake.