They Get it From Their Mom

So, as most of you probably realize, I do not have children. Because I kind of hate them most of the time. More so I don’t have the patience to listen to another person’s child scream and cry and make loud noises. Because I hate senseless noise. So, instead, I have pets. I have a beagle name Buck, and a cat named Freaka. I love them.

The problem with my pets, is that they seem to have taken on my own love of food. My cat seriously will go through 3 cans of food a day if I would let her. She is only nine freaking pounds (granted she only has three legs, so maybe she would be 9.5 had it not been removed). And she will immediately finish a can of food (which is roughly the size of her head) and immediately come screaming at me for more. She will also help herself to whatever she can find, such as plants, bread, dog food, etc. She will tear open a loaf of bread to get at it. She seriously thinks she is starving to death.

As for Buck, he thinks that anything  Chad and I are eating, he should be eating too. If I happen to drop something on the floor while I am cooking, he is on that shit like white on rice. Even if it is 300 degrees, he will try to eat it like there is no tomorrow. Most of the time he will drop it a couple times after burning his mouth, but if I try to grab it and put it on a paper plate or something to cool off for him (it’s not like I am going to eat it after he has had his mouth all over it, cut me a little slack people) he will snatch it up like it is the last piece of food he will ever see. This dog ate an entire bag of valentine’s day chocolates once… foil and all. Last night, my mom got pizza for me, Chad and a couple of our friends as a thank you for working in the yard. Chad promptly dropped one of the pizzas in the driveway and a piece fell out. Buck happened to find it a few hours later, completely soaking wet, and went to TOWN on that thing. Chad stopped him from licking the pavement for an hour, but for the rest of the night, Buck was completely consumed with the thought of the greasy goodness that could still be found on the driveway.

Moral of the story, this is not MY McFatty Monday, it is definitely that of my pets. Although, arguably, they probably get it from their mom…

Fun Ruiner.

So, I have this friend (we will call her Martha) and she is trying to really help me get back on track and start making healthy choices for myself. The other night, we were at her and her boyfriend's house and they had made some pasta for everybody. It had olives and mushrooms in it, which I am NOT a fan of, but I ate it anyways. Let me tell you folks, that ish was bomb.com. Anyways, it was about 9 pm when we were eating it (which is really against my weight loss policies, but when you are a guest, there isn’t much you can do). I finished my little bowl and I go back for seconds. I have my bowl filled up again with this heavenly concoction, and I turn around and BAM. My world is ruined. Martha says to me “put the bowl down. RIGHT NOW.” Ugh. What a Debbie downer.

Anyways, the moral of this blog post is kind of to refer back to my post a while ago about how I really am feeling like I am in this by myself. I feel so much better now that I know that I do have a friend that is going through the same thing as me (she has gained maybe 60 pounds since I met her 4 years ago). She also happens to have a brother that just joined the Marines. Enter my own personal Hell, I feel. Martha says to me “why don’t you come over at 6 am on Monday morning and you can do the workout with me and my brother”. Well shoot, why WOULDN’T I want to haul my butt out of bed at the ass crack of dawn on a holiday to come and do bootcamp style torture with your bro-ham? Buuutttt, I think I am going to try to make it anyways because I need all the help I can get.

Wish me luck folks. Apparently I will be able to do 25 pull ups at the end of the summer. Ha.

Caution: Mildly Adult Content

This post might be a little bit too much information for some of you, so if you don’t want to hear about my personal life, stop reading now.

So, Chad and I have been together for over 6 years now, and I can honestly say that I seriously want to spend the rest of my life with him. I can not imagine my life without him in it. So, needless to say, being the crazy, neurotic basketcase that I am, I get quite paranoid that he hates me. Lately, I have been feeling very insecure because of the fact that I haven’t been losing weight the way I want to (which is nobody’s fault but my own). So last night, we are laying in bed, and I am wanting a little something (if you catch what I’m throwin down) and he says that he is too worn out. EXCUSE ME?! That is my freaking line for when he is too drunk and obnoxious. So I start to panic and throw out there that I know he is only saying that because I am still fat. I KNOW this because we used to have sex 5 or 6 times a week, and that was BEFORE we lived together. Let the waterworks begin.

Now, a little bit about me. Like most women, I am a crazy person at times. I KNOW I am completely off my rocker, but I still just let things fly out of my mouth like I am Paula Abdul on American Idol. And more than once, Chad has tolerated my madness. But last night he appeared to not be in the mood. He just kind of brushed me off, tried to make me feel better for a minute, and then promptly fell asleep.

This is a sign to me that he is getting fed up with my laziness. If I ever expect him to put that big rock on my finger that I am so dreaming off, I am going to have to kick myself into gear and try to spice up our love life.

Anger!

I had another successful workout yesterday after work. I changed into my mismatched gym clothes, filled my water bottle, and set to work on the elliptical. Once again, I felt so accomplished and I was QUITE excited to head home and make a delicious dinner for me and Chad. Which never happened. Don’t get me started on that one.

Wait, I am ALREADY started. Here comes the rant… Chad KNEW that I was planning a nice dinner for the two of us. He had his assignment of stopping at the grocery store and picking up the mini bottle of white wine to make the sauce (since I can’t afford the $1.67 it costs to purchase one of those ridiculous bottles of wine). I get home, I shower, and I tried calling him to find out where the heck he was. No answer. ANNOYING. I call again about 15 minutes later. And what is he doing? RIDING HIS FREAKING DIRTBIKE. “Well,” I say, “are you on your way home?” He replies with “no, I probably won’t be home for another hour.” WHAT?! Keep in mind, it is about 6:45 and I can’t eat past 8 if I plan to shed this soft cushion around my middle. Long story short, I hang up on him, cry, and drown my sorrows in boursin cheese and crackers. Whoops…

But, back to the story at hand. After my little cheese binge last night, I was sure that I would wake up this morning at legit whale status and weigh approximately 400 pounds. But, the good news is that I was at 198. I know, I started this blog weighing in at 197. Then I lost two pounds. Did I fail to mention to you that I ended up gaining 5 pounds at some point in the past few weeks…? My bad.

BUT, I am back on track now and losing weight makes me feel so good. Maybe that is why I gain so much weight… so I can get that satisfied feeling when I lose it again. Is that weird? Probably. I am a glutton for punishment I guess.

It's a Miracle!!

So I have been completely slacking on my workouts the past couple weeks. I like to blame any variety of things… pets, boyfriend, mother, work, alien abduction… you know how that goes. But yesterday, on McFatty Monday, I pushed through those distractions and forced myself to go to the gym after work. And, let me tell you, it did WONDERS for me!!

Turns out, all those specialists and workout obsessed professionals are not lying when they say that exercising gives you more energy and puts you in a better mood. For real, you ask? For real real, no play play.

I did an hour on the elliptical while watching Law and Order (I wish it had been SVU, but the 6 channels on the cardio equipment don’t offer many options… I had to make do). Then I got home and proceeded to do the dishes, clean the kitchen, take out the garbage, clean the litter box, and do laundry. What are the freaking odds?! I’m sure it helped that the sun decided to make an appearance, but I have no shame in putting all the credit on the workout.

So, I am going to see if this miracle will occur two days in a row. I am going to see if I can handle a whole cycling class after work (am I the only one with an ass that literally swallows the bike seat in those spin classes?) and see if I can bust out some yard work once I get home. Or maybe create a spectacular dinner fit for a 5 star restaurant for me and my love… oh the possibilities are endless!!

Man, it feels SHITTY to be a woman!

Why is it that boys lose weight SO much easier than girls do? I think it’s BULLSHIT. I have a friend who has kind of struggled with his weight a little bit the past few years, and he told me this morning that he started having a slim fast shake for breakfast and he has lost 13 freaking pounds. REALLY?! If I switched to just having a Slim Fast shake for breakfast, I feel like I might lose, oh, I don’t know, a pound a month.

I sometimes just really feel like boys get the easy life when it comes to weight. Chad can eat 3000 calories a day and not gain any weight at all, yet if I eat 1500 calories a day, I will wake up 2 pounds heavier. What gives?! I have another friend (who shall remain nameless) that will do heinous things like dipping potato chips in melted butter, or eat mayonnaise with a freaking spoon, and he is cut like a mo fo.

I have initiated a challenge (in my own head, without telling anybody) to lose more weight by the 4^th of July than my chubby man friend does. I guess I’ll get back on the Slim Fast train.

Choo choo!!

Plan B

In my desperate attempt to get ready for summer and Vegas (which is a mere 2 months away… yikes!) I have decided to take up speedwalking on my lunch break. I have always avoided this plan due to the fact that I work in an office that reaches a mere 84.3 degrees on what seems like a daily basis (apparently this phenomenon only occurs in my cubicle though) and I sweat my balls off enough as it is. However, it has come to my attention that something must be done about this unruly gelatinous matter that has taken up residency around my middle.

So, I fully intend to purchase myself some of those miracle toning shoes (preferably Reebok easytone shoes, as I fear that the Sketchers shape-ups may cause me to roll and quite possibly break my ankle on my lunchtime adventures). Then I will change into a fashionable sweat suit (as pictured below) and put on my sweatbands, plug in my yellow walkman, pick up my hand weights, and get to steppin’.

Okay, maybe I won’t do those things. But I do fully intend to start taking advantage of these sweltering 63 degree temperatures and getting my metabolism boosted.

Vegas… vegas… vegas… vegas…

Lonely... I'm so lonely....

So, as I have expressed, I am VERY frustrated with my weight loss (or lack thereof) right now. I can’t seem to win.

I seriously feel like I am doing this by myself and it is so flipping discouraging to me that I can’t seem to get the support that I am needing. I used to have way more support it feels like. I went to classes at the gym with my sister, I went to trampoline air-obics with friends, and my boyfriend seemed to want to go outside and do more things with me. But now, my sister lives 35 minutes away, schedules have made trampoline air-obics hard to get to, and my boyfriend has his own hobbies going right now.

This is obviously more so of a rant than a blog, but I feel like blogs sort of double as public diaries. It’s my blog and I’ll cry if I want to.

Slacker

So I have been slacking lately. In pretty much every aspect of my life.

This is my very first McFatty Monday post and I am kind of excited about sharing my epic failures with the rest of the blogging world.

Last week I was the biggest bum ever when it came to working out. It was pay week, so I was running pretty low on gas, and even lower on money with which to purchase gas. So I didn’t hit the gym. And someone put stuff on my elliptical at home, so I couldn’t POSSIBLY move it and use it. Hate it when that happens.

So I knew all week I wouldn’t really be able to make it to the gym, so I had myself 100% convinced I would be eating healthy all week. Well, that didn’t really happen. Thursday night we went to the bar, and I was FAIRLY good and got my grilled chicken salad. But then Friday is our weekly lunch eat out day at work. So, of course, I decide to partake in a delicious, juicy bacon cheeseburger. With a side of creamy clam chowder. HOW DOES THIS  HAPPEN TO ME?! Friday night followed with pizza. Twice.

Saturday was the second birthday of my best friend’s son, so I was running around all day trying to get things ready for the party. I stopped in at Starbuck’s and got a spinach, feta, and egg white breakfast wrap, which might be the only good choice I have made in the past week. But then I paired it with a full flavor caramel frappucinno. Aw hell. Why not top the day off by having a burger, a hot dog, a cupcake and about 528 potato chips at the party.

So that pretty much brings me up to date. My weight bounced back up to where I started, and I am royally pissed off at myself.

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother’s Day to all you mom’s out there.

For my mom, I decided to take her out to lunch at Pogacha. I was good and did what the nutrionist told me to do when I go out to eat a restaurant, which is to look at the website and decide what I want BEFORE I get there. Usually that does actually help me make a better food choice. Today I decided to go with a blackened salmon sandwich rather than a delicious, creamy, carb loaded pasta dish. We get to the restaurant only to discover that they have an all you can eat brunch buffet on Sundays.

Seriously? F.M.L.

I panicked for a minute, but then I gathered my thoughts and told myself that I could definitely make some fairly healthy choices out there. They had some fish, fruit, and salads. Sure, I decided to bypass most of those and go for scones, sausage, and bread. But I had the option.

As we were sitting there waiting for our jovial waiter to bring us our water, I hear someone to the left of me say “I’ve lost 5 pounds, and if I gain it back because of this, I am going to freak out.”

Finally, a woman after my own heart!! I turn around expecting that I will meet my new soul sister and we will be instant partners and will tag team this obnoxious flab. Instead, I see the 10 year old version of myself sitting there with her family.

It really opened my eyes to how many young people struggle with their weight. By no means was she a FAT girl like I was about that time, but she was a normal level of chubby for a girl her age. I am sure that she probably goes through the same stress I went through as a kid. Being the fattest person in her class, or maybe just in her group of friends. Maybe she felt pressure from her family to slim down. Who knows. All I know is that at least she is aware that she has a struggle ahead of her and is starting now to make the changes that she needs to make in order to live a healthy life.

More power to you, little girl with the lime green Nintendo DS and checkered shoelaces.

No me gusta.

Some people think that May is the time to start getting their gardens planted, their new summer swimsuits purchased, and kick their workout regime into high gear.

I think May was created specifically to binge on delectable Mexican cuisine.

I mean, sure, you can ALWAYS eat Mexican food, it doesn’t have to be in the month of May. However, things for me really get kicked off when we start to celebrate the liberation of our tan neighbors to the south on May 5^th (AKA Cinco de Mayo). From that point forward, it is on like donkey kong folks.

I started this month out by informing my love that we will be attending the festivities are our local hot spot for ethnic cuisine, El Caporal. No big deal, we eat there all the time. Little did I know that it would start off the domino effect of me stuffing my expanded midsection with everything from chips and salsa to carne asada on a week long rampage.

I should have know, as I was sucking down my strawberry margarita large enough that would rival the amount of liquid found in Diddy Dirty Money’s swimming pool (and probably contained almost as much alcohol), that I was getting myself involved in a downward spiral of never ending trips to Mexican restaurants all over our beautiful valley. I indulged in a chicken quesadilla at work from La Fogata, followed by a romantic meal of Tres Fiesta (three times the party!) with Chad at El Cap. I then capped my week off with a much needed lunch date with some friends at Ixtapa.

I clearly fell off the “everything in moderation” bandwagon. Shucks.

Honest to Blog...?

 

    Well kids, buckle up, this is going to be a CRAZY trip. I have never blogged before, so I hope you really enjoy the mental anguish and frustration that will ensue as I publicly reveal this journey I am taking to try to get myself to a happy, healthy weight. We'll touch on various other topics on the way, I'm sure.

                A little background for you to chew over. I was a normal, happy kid. Up until about 5^th grade when I all of a sudden turned into a flab-tastic 150 pound girl. I didn’t realize that it was such an awful thing until my “friends” turned into a bunch of fickle bitches and made fun of the fat girl. Whatevs.

                Through middle school I slimmed down a bit and by the time I was in high school, I was back down to a respectable 125 pounds. Boo-yah! I made new friends, had a couple boyfriends, so on and so forth. I also worked at greasy, amazing little burger joint. I walked everywhere (I was one of those people who didn’t get my driver’s license until I was 18), didn’t eat regular meals (unless you count snagging a French fry or corndog here and there during my shifts), and spend all my time hanging out with my friends. It was an amazing life.

                But then, the unthinkable happened. I had to get a grown up job (DUN DUN DUNNNN!!!). I walked across the parking lot from my current job to the credit union next door, got an application, filled it out, and got an interview. At said interview, I wowed them with my sparkling personality and hypnotized them with my insanely good looks, and landed myself a job as a member service representative. Translation: I got a desk job that enabled me to sit on my ass all day long, snack, and let my metabolism drop while my weight steadily rose from slim, to chubby, to chunky until I had officially reached the status of lard-ass. Perfect.

                So here I sit, at 24 years old weighing in at a whopping 197 pounds (keep the comments and finger-pointing to yourselves, please). And so my journey begins.