This is Butt talking. You better check yo’self befo’ you wreck yo’self! What’s that? What did you say? Oh, I can’t hear you because you’re stuffed too full of M&Ms! You piggy-pig-pig. Look, you are making me look bad and it needs to stop. Right. Now. So, zip it.
Folks, I’m in trouble. I have about three weight categories. There’s “Well, Alright” and “Mmmm, Gotta Watch That” and “Oh HELL No”! Today? I am one pound away from “Oh HELL No” which is making me say…um…”Oh HELL no!”. Yeah, that really lost momentum there, didn’t it? My fat-i-tude may be affecting my ability to construct a witty sentence. And we can’t be having that, can we?
My weigh IS affecting the way my pants fit and that is a problem. I don’t want to buy new pants. Shopping for pants is miserable because I’m bottom heavy and my hips are kinda low so pants don’t fit me so well. Plus pants shopping because your butt has over-flowed your current pants merely adds insult to injury. It’s like standing in a dressing room with a Drill Sergeant who’s yelling “Those pants look bad because you’re a wimpy little M&M fiend with no willpower! You suck! Now drop and give me 20! And spit out those M&Ms!”
M&Ms are really only the tip of the ice-berg for me lately. There’s a pint of Ben & Jerry’s in the freezer right now and I will eat all of it. Maybe not all at once, but I will eat every bite because I live with two freaks who don’t like ice-cream. There’s also left-over meatloaf in the fridge and I make a mean meatloaf so you better believe that I’m dreaming of a big slab of it for lunch at work this week. When we had it last night, fresh from the oven, we had it with corn on the cob with real butter. Mmmmmm…
You might as well just butter my butt and skip the middleman, doncha think?
We’ve all been here, right? Where every day brings with it a new excuse to have just a little treat? Please, tell me we’ve all been here because I don’t want to think I’m the only one who thinks “That meeting sucked. I need an extra beer tonight!” or “The commute was miserable so I need to eat a whole bunch of gourmet olives stuffed with garlic the minute I walk in the door.” or “Project finished! I rock! Pass the red velvet cupcakes!”.
Basically, I’m living my life in a Skinner box and rewarding myself for basic tasks with food. That’s not good. I know it’s not good. This is an old pattern and it always leads to going up a pants size. And I hate slipping back into it almost as much as I hate shopping for new pants. (See above.)
I’ve successfully lost weight in the past using several different methods. There was the Move to Southern California and Work Out in the Glorious Year-Round Sunshine method, which probably isn’t practical now, especially since it requires being 25 and single to really work well. Then there was the Shed the Ohio State Chicken Wing and Beer Weight By Going To Italy for Two Weeks and Coming Home Disgusted By All Processed Food and Start Eating Better method which actually would work if I just skipped the Italy part (boo!) and headed right for the produce aisle instead of the freezer section. The there’s the Indulge the Need For Treats With Non-Food Treats Like Lipgloss which is expensive and is probably the root cause of my massive box o’ lipgloss problem. The there’s Weight Watchers.
I. Hate. Weight Watchers.
Don’t get me wrong. Weight Watchers works. I’ve used the online version twice to slim down when my treat seeking behavior was unmanageable otherwise. I just hate watching $30 per month go from my checking account to the Weight Watchers account because I lack the will-power to stop constantly eating just from 5m-10pm without a website to make me accountable. And I hate having to enter recipes into the Points calculator. Not because it’s depressing to see how my recipes rate; because I’m lazy.
I’m going to try and avoid Weight Watchers this time around because I have a new tool in my arsenal: Twitter. I am going to try and Tweet the pounds away. See, my plan is to Tweet when I’m about to eat something bad for me and beg my followers to tell me not to eat it. I have almost 1,000 followers and I’m pretty sure some of you are just dying to tweet “Step away from the Pop-tarts, fatty!”. And even if you’re not willing to do that for me (and why not? Doesn’t my health matter to you? Jeez, I thought you people liked me.) the mere act of writing down “I’m about to shove a Snickers bar into my gaping pie-hole!” should probably be enough of a wake-up call to make me rethink my stupid food decisions.
I’m going to try this for a week along with my work-out + True Blood routine and see where it gets me. Wish me luck and I’ll see you on Twitter!
P.S. As I was proofing this I found an awesome typo: I had typed “meaLOAD” instead of “meatloaf”. Yeah, I’m still giggling.