So you decided to be like every other person in America and say “This is the year I lose weight! I will finally fit into those size -14 pants that I saw a 7 year old wearing!”
Good for you. That’s awesome. Everyone loves a New Years resolution. Or eight. I jumped on that bandwagon and I’m here to tell you how it’s going. I’m not necessarily calling it a resolution, but mainly because I spent the last two weeks of December justifying a two-dozen-a-day cookie diet I had to say I’m doing something. You are probably thinking “Yeah, right, two dozen.” But my family can confirm I at least finished three tins of Polish fried or baked dough. No shame. In fact, I was pretty impressed with the fact that my fat pants didn’t button after those two weeks. You wouldn’t even believe how many times I ate or reheated Polish sausage, pierogis, ham, potatoes, pizza, or even hibachi. Let’s not mention the tapas themed New Year’s Eve party we hosted. (Still daydreaming about the 15 different trays of food.) And yes, if you must know, I did wash it down with tasty carbonated beverages in the form of Michelob Ultras (because I just couldn’t finish two plates of food AND regular domestic or craft beer – I really think I would have exploded or at least ripped some leggings. And dear God it is tough to rip leggings…*raises hand and hopes others have ripped through leggings*).
(Although, to be fair, I did indulge in some New Glarus Spotted Cow because that stuff is liquid gold. And only available in Wisconsin. Thank God for grandparents living in the Upper Peninsula! They are my personal beer fairies.. Fun fact: my grandpa is a mayor! So, I’m pretty much famous and Spotted Cow should be free to anyone related to anyone who is a mayor in Wisconsin.)
Anyway. Back to the whole point of this post. It’s day three of my diet.
And I want to kill everyone. No, I want to punch everyone. No, please just don’t come near me. I am hangry. Last night I actually ate a single Peep and thought it was the most delicious, decadent thing in the world because it was only two points. (Weight Watchers recurring member, here!) Did I mention I love food in a very unhealthy way? Perhaps you saw my previous post about how food makes me delirious with joy? Perhaps you didn’t know that I wish to dip everything in ranch and add bacon to even my desserts?
Dieting is the worst. I am here to tell you it sucks. It’s most likely not going to work. Don’t believe me? Click here to read all about how you most likely won’t be a success story for very long. After I had my first kid, I lost the 50 pounds I gained PLUS 30 more pounds. Guess who gained back 40? Aww, yeah, you guessed correctly! I am so awesome, I tacked on another 10 pounds just for shits and giggles.
So why am I trying again? Because I’m getting to that point where I’m kind of tired of feeling like crap. I’m so tired all the time. I’m busy with kids and yet lazy at the same time. This time around I just want to feel good, not just look good. Or admire that evil piece of plastic that screams at me “JUST EAT A SALAD ALREADY!” (The scale) So I ate probably 5000 calories a day over the holidays as one last hurrah and got on that Weight Watchers bandwagon again. I’m hangry, irritable, downing coffee pretending it’s a doughnut, and wanting to sucker punch anyone holding a chicken tender. The upside is that I know this anger is only temporary. I hope. Soon I will see some weight loss in my face, soon my pants will feel a bit roomier, and soon I won’t be huffing and puffing up and down the stairs like a fat kid eating cake running a marathon.
So, what is that saying I have seen lately? Embrace the suck? Right now I’m embracing the suck. Just don’t come near me with a buffalo wing until I post another entry saying my mood has lifted and I am strutting in a bikini. Please note that moment is never so that’s a nice way of saying I don’t like you unless that buffalo wing is for me and you brought a cup of ranch with it. The end.