Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Damn Cajuns trying to steal holidays from the SIF. Everyone knows the real meaning of Fat Tuesday. The same reason every Tuesday is Fat. It’s the day after New Me Monday. 24 hours of dieting is more than enough reason to celebrate. Show my tits for beads? I think not. A Krispy Kreme maybe. Betta make those candy beads. Does anyone really desire to witness a flashing fatty? I didn’t think so. My memories of New Orleans are as follows: Beignets, Muffalettas and bread pudding. No sex. No sight seeing. Pure Fat. Pure Bliss. Story time. Whilst in New Orleans my husband went out for a pack of smokes. He left me alone (in a public place) with his bread pudding (the public place part while true was thrown in for effect..I have no shame). Big mistake. Upon his return, he alleged he was “this” close to being mugged. I tried to seem sympathetic. I was just grateful he didn’t ask what happened to his bread pudding…I mean that he returned safe and sound. Or something. That about sums up my trip to New Orleans. Moving along…
I have been cheating on you. There I said it. I have been doing the deed. No not that deed. I would take out a billboard in Vegas were that the case. A dirtier deed. A word that sounds like riot and begins with a “D.” There I said it. Sort of. Why? I can’t be sure. I was bored, read a book about a diet I haven’t tried and decided to take a walk on the other side. It’s called the “4 Hour Body” although I’m not sure why. It’s been 240 hours and I have yet to visit the 1/4 Pounders. Beans. That’s what this diet is all about. If I wasn’t getting sex before this, I’m certainly not getting any now. Let’s face it; I’m gassy on an empty stomach. Imagine 4 servings of beans a day. I have enough natural gas to launch the shuttle into orbit AND bring it back. Sexy. I wonder if farting is more acceptable when you weigh less? I’ll let you know. If I get that far. I’m basically a feral cow. I eat lettuce, meat and beans. I can’t be sure real cows eat beans but this one does. I don’t even have to work out. A dream come true. I get to eat bacon. Very fair. It’s supposed to be organic bacon. I really don’t care what my pig ate prior to slaughter as long as his loins are tasty. I buy the microwave kind. I can’t be bothered with random cooking requirements. 20 seconds in the microwave is very fair when waiting on a side show of legumes. Oh and I get 2 glasses of red wine each night. Who needs sex with bacon and red wine? Apparently not me. The theory being…the bacon clogs my arteries, the red wine cleans them out and the beans…keep me from sex? I can’t be sure.
The next chapter in the book…”The 15 minute Orgasm.” I have yet to read it for all the obvious reasons. It’s torture. I would take a 15 second orgasm at present. All of this nonsense would require the man to stop watching TV long enough to realize there was a vagina in need of something other than a mop and an apron. I do not believe this to be possible. I’ll stick to the chapters about ficticious 4 hour weight loss. It’s more feasible. I will say the following about the farting 4 hour diet…I am never hungry. That’s what happens when you eat meat and beans. Gas moves into the empty space once filled by my ol pal Lil’ Debbie. I miss her so. No cheese. Perhaps the biggest disappointment of all. It’s like telling me to hang out with the nerdy kids. I know it will make me smarter but there’s no pleasure in this knowledge now is there? I know this. Maybe I need to read the orgasm chapter. When I’m not eating beans and grazing on fat back I can fill the empty space with my other favorite meat…rabbit. Fat free and very satisfying. Yes Mother, that rabbit.
There is a slight glimmer of light at the end of the 4 hour tunnel. Cheat Day. A bit deceiving. You can eat anything you want for 24 hours. It’s all an attempt to throw your body off track. My body never exactly got on track. It’s fallen off so many times one leg occassionly grazes the edge. Of course that doesn’t deter me. Cheating is cheating. I am a food whore after all. The book advises you to write down all your cravings throughout the week so you’ll remember to indulge in them on your cheat day. A. I don’t have a scroll big enough to list my cravings. B. 24 hours isn’t enough time to cover the bases in the World Series of cheating I would indulge in and C. I have a memory like an elephant. I ate until I made myself sick. Typical as Saturday’s go. The hard part…Sunday. There was no instruction on going from French fries and pizza to beans. Far from a smooth transition. 24 hours just wasn’t enough time to spend with old friends. I feel like my body is on death row. I get a congecal visit with fat once a week. I want more. Please kill me now…
How much weight have I lost? I can’t be sure. Let’s just say I weigh less than I did last week. My septic system can back that up. Who needs a lying whore of a scale? So I’ll continue drinking ice water at dawn, ice packs at night, beans throughout the day and cheat when permissible. That is until my SIF genes kick in and carbs rule my life once again. For now I will celebrate Fat Tuesday with the Fatties and the Frauds.