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.

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.