The who? In the what what?

You know I don’t like to use Craig Kilbourn speak lightly, but I will make an exception this time and proclaim a hearty BOOYAH!!  Somehow, against all reason, I am down 1.2 pounds since Monday.  I cannot fathom how that happened since Monday night I snacked like a house a’fire and last night I ate a southern fried chicken salad from O’Charleys.  (seriously y’all, that stuff is like kryptonite.  I have no power in its presence.)  But the scale doesn’t lie, so again I say!  Booyah!

Also, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum (pirates (TM))!  For I have definite confirmation that Suck-It Sandra resigned her job as Chief Discourager and High Priestess of Assholery at the Brentwood location of LA Weight Loss.  I really <holding for applause>… no…. I really can’t take all the credit for this.  I must acknowledge and thank my fellow husky girls for their part in frustrating her and arguing with her and pointing out her crack-smokery to the point that she was driven out.  Truly, it was a team effort and a testament to the power of irritable dieters en masse.  And so, to you thin people out there, I say to you….  watch your backs.  You piss off one of us, you piss off ALL of us.

Did you see this article on the New York Times website?  Ooooooh, girl I can’t tell you how happy this makes me.  Not that I don’t love the french.  You know I do.  And not that I’m happy about obesity in general.  It sucks.  In any language.  But you know how they are, the french, with their “ooooooh, Americans are zooooo fat!  And we are zooooo zkinny!  We can just eat whateeeeever we want!”  How many people sent me stories about that book “French Women Don’t Get Fat“?  How many?  My mom wanted to run right out and buy it for me.  I told her not to bother because A)I already know why traditionally french people have been able to eat well and not gain weight.  It’s the same way americans used to be able to eat well and not gain weight.  I don’t need to know any “french secrets” because I already know how not to be fat.  I just, for whatever reason, have chosen to ignore those facts.  And B)French people are fat!  Why?  For the exact same reasons Americans are fat.  The poorer the region, the more people rely on fast food and cheap, crappy “food product” to feed their families.  TV is a big deal in France now.  Video games are selling like gang busters.  They’re no longer twenty years behind America in, well, everything.  But y’all, Y’ALL, you have to read this article.  Especially the very bottom where it talks about the perception of fat women changing, as it relates to attractiveness.  I’m telling you right now.  If this trend continues?   I am brushing up on my subjunctive and passe compose and moving to France Bel Grande.  Toute suite!

 

T minus 40 pounds and counting.

I owe you an explanation

Okay here’s the thing. I have been having some problems. With eating. Um…. a lot. I’ve been eating. As in, foods that are not on the diet. So, ah, well y’all I feel bad about it. Because everyone’s all supportive and I feel like you’re rooting for me to win and I’m not winning right now. I’ve fallen to the middle of the pack. But I’m wearing a fetching hot pink jersey and you can all still see me in here and I hope you’re still rooting for me and haven’t given up and instead of just going to get that hot dog and then coming back to your seat, just decided eh, what the hell, I’m just going home. I’ll catch her next home game. Cause I’m still here. I AM. And I was kind of afraid that everyone would be disappointed in me, so I feared good, honest reporting. But Sydney said that when Judgey McOhMyGodYourAssIsHugeEnstein applied to re-up his Martini Ministry membership, she exercised her option to blackball him from the club, and that I should keep writing and be honest and that it’s okay to fail sometimes. Oddly, that was the exact teaser for a very special episode of Moesha three years ago….

So I have good news and bad news.

The bad news is that I have gained a little bit of weight back. I’m still in my new pants size, haven’t gained that much. But I am, well, having trouble with the stopping of the eating. Especially at night. I have no idea what it is about my apartment that compels me to eat, but am here to testify that it does. It’s very weird. I’ve gotten the naughty lunching under control, but I can not be trusted at night and am seriously considering installing some kind of shock device in my kitchen.

The good news is, I have not seen Suck-It Sandra in many, many moons at the LAWL, and I believe her to no longer be in their employ. Karma’s a bitch.

The better news is that I am reconciling with the diet and it has moved back in to my apartment. See, the thing is that during the holidays, I wanted to spend them with my family they way we always do and the Diet wanted to spend the holiday it’s own way and I just really didn’t want to do that because with the Diet, Christmas dinner consists of all this weird, low fat food and no desserts (it’s just not Christmas!) and then you have to go around the living room and open presents one at a time so everyone can ooh and aah about what you got and then Christmas day they want to take a walk and exercise and crap and Christmas day is all about eating leftovers and sleeping in the big chair by the fire! So. I put my foot down and said that as a matter of fact, I’ve been wanting to spend some time apart anyway. So go do your own thing and after the holidays, call me. And I thought, of course, that I’d never hear from it again, because it was pretty hurt. I said some things I shouldn’t have, like calling it unflexible and set in its ways and that it liked other women better than me (you should see all the women who have lost more weight than me in a shorter period of time, thankyouverymuch, immortalized in guilt-inducing polaroids all over the diet center), and that I just was feeling smothered.

But last week, it called. I’ve been watching Sex and the City on Netflix and I am here to tell you that those women are T.H.I.N. Thiiiiiiin. Sarah Jessica Parker’s character said she’s a size two. A size? Two. TWO. Where does she keep her internal organs? Size two?!!? I can’t really say that I’m inspired by these women, but I will say that I hate Carrie Bradshaw, as she embodies everything stereotype, everything I hate about women, and it has made me thankful that although fat, I am not a neurotic man-stealer, impoverished and whiney about my $40,000 shoe collection, a wearer of fugly clothes, and that my interests and range of knowledge are wider reaching than sex and fashion. Does that sound condescending? Good. I have decided not to apologize for that. Anyway, if nothing else, the stupid show re-empowered me to be strong and to give love between a woman and her Diet another chance.

I’ve got some goods. I’ve got good hair. I can entertain the masses. I have the willpower to make myself meet with Nervous Little Trainer every week. And as Kim Coombs at Union University once said to me of my whitened, straightened smile, “Rachel, you got you some teeth!” (or as my cousin calls them, “gleaming fruits of capitalism”). And Jeff Lewis did address me as “skinny” at the Russian new year’s party. Which is not something that just every 219 pounder can say.

219? I weigh 219…. Jesus I outweigh some football players.

I’ve got work to do….

 

T minus 39 pounds and counting. In the right direction now. For real. I mean it.