Week 2. Still Fat. No weight loss. But no weight gain. I guess that's good.
The week started much like every week, in tears on a scale in too small underwear and a bra that barely contained my tits. I checked and rechecked...no change...fuck you scale.
I prompted my weight loss with a hike with friends. Only because of my stationary lifestyle my ass and legs were on fire for the next three days. I walked like I had taken a few up places that God would not condone.
So we go to Monday. I measure and dissect everything I eat that day. I keep the food to a minimum and the water to a maximum. I'm pumped and excited for the work out that I am going to do when I get home.
Recently the babe and I purchased a smart TV...Samsung. These smart TV's...these things are beyond me. Many buttons, all these apps. It is important to note that I am technologically retarded. I still ask if we own a Blu Ray player...we own a PS3. So I create an account for the fitness app. I put in my stats...and do you know what the fucker tells me? I'm obese. Fuck you Samsung, you are obese. And although it caused another round of tears for the day, I decided to follow through with a work out.
I stand in my living room following the moves of "cardio kick butt" instructed by some asshole who has never measured their food. I am bouncing here and there all the while making my old house rattle, causing thee empty beer cans on the coffee table to make the sweet sound of embarrassment. I stopped at the ten minute mark, half of the 120 calories that I was projected to burn...so why the fuck am I not skinny yet? Just kidding. I know that answer. Kind of.
I feel that I should mention that I just watched a show called OZ. In this particular episode, Chris Meloni shows his very circumcised penis for a good ten seconds...that was a lot of Stabler dick.
I hope I didn't drive you away, or maybe I've attracted a new reader...
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
Sunday, January 5, 2014
Resolutions are for Assholes
Jan 5, 2014... The sharks won. I weigh 172 lbs, and I am coming off of a week long "vacation". I put the word "vacation" in quotations because fuck me...I was sick, I was emotional...and I'm still overweight...as if a week off from work was going to melt off the tamales and vendor gifted chocolates. Fuck me.
I woke today hurting from a fall, and in the constant bad mood that I perpetuated since my brother left for boot camp. I fucking cried this whole week. For nothing. That's right, I fucking fell. Let me start from the beginning:
In the interest of being proactive, I decided to take down the Christmas Garland that was hanging in the living room. It was my way of surprising the babe while he was in the shower, one less thing he would have to do...right? We had recently purchased a ladder specifically to reach high places. However, in this quest for productivity, and in the interest of time, I utilized the leather foot stool gifted to us by my old boss. What could have possibly gone wrong? Nothing...except that I am klutz, a self professed and well documented klutz. When I was 6, I was climbing a cherry tree with the aid of an empty bucket. I fell landing open legged allowing the edge of the bucket to give my pelvic region a nice jab...explaining the bruise during bath time resulted in a family meeting. Another time, as I was putting the fitted sheet on to the mattress, I managed to hit the corner of a windowsill and knocked myself out. No fucking joke, I did this...and then I fucking did it the next week after I washed the sheets and proceeded to put them on the bed.
So you could guess where I am going with this...I pulled down the garland while stepping on the foot stool, when it gave way. I caught myself for a moment, but only long enough to "eek" and re-position myself so that I fell on my back on the edge of the couch. I wish I was making this up. The wind was knocked out of me and when it finally came back I yelled for the babe. Only he was in the shower. And to be quite honest, I'm glad he didn't catch me in the position, it screamed of klutz.
So the remainder of my vacation is plagued by a back pain...
I promised myself last year that this year I was going to look like Monica Bellucci circa 1997, instead I resemble Kirstie Alley...circa now...Here's to another awesome year.
I woke today hurting from a fall, and in the constant bad mood that I perpetuated since my brother left for boot camp. I fucking cried this whole week. For nothing. That's right, I fucking fell. Let me start from the beginning:
In the interest of being proactive, I decided to take down the Christmas Garland that was hanging in the living room. It was my way of surprising the babe while he was in the shower, one less thing he would have to do...right? We had recently purchased a ladder specifically to reach high places. However, in this quest for productivity, and in the interest of time, I utilized the leather foot stool gifted to us by my old boss. What could have possibly gone wrong? Nothing...except that I am klutz, a self professed and well documented klutz. When I was 6, I was climbing a cherry tree with the aid of an empty bucket. I fell landing open legged allowing the edge of the bucket to give my pelvic region a nice jab...explaining the bruise during bath time resulted in a family meeting. Another time, as I was putting the fitted sheet on to the mattress, I managed to hit the corner of a windowsill and knocked myself out. No fucking joke, I did this...and then I fucking did it the next week after I washed the sheets and proceeded to put them on the bed.
So you could guess where I am going with this...I pulled down the garland while stepping on the foot stool, when it gave way. I caught myself for a moment, but only long enough to "eek" and re-position myself so that I fell on my back on the edge of the couch. I wish I was making this up. The wind was knocked out of me and when it finally came back I yelled for the babe. Only he was in the shower. And to be quite honest, I'm glad he didn't catch me in the position, it screamed of klutz.
So the remainder of my vacation is plagued by a back pain...
I promised myself last year that this year I was going to look like Monica Bellucci circa 1997, instead I resemble Kirstie Alley...circa now...Here's to another awesome year.
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