Is it true what I keep hearing about it being safer to stay at one weight, even if that weight is shall we say, elevated, than it is to be constantly going up and down? Cause if that’s the case, then why not just stay… elevated? I mean, right? Is that just me bullshitting to try to get out of eating the squash and zucchini I bought this weekend for dinner tonight? Speaking of which, let me digress here and talk about my grocery shopping habits if I may. Every two weeks I go to the store. It is my most hated chore, but my only option is to pay a small fortune to have turkey sausage and other questionable hippie food delivered so, off I go. I follow the sage advice given by most diet plans: stick to the outside perimeter, never venture into the hinterlands of the actual aisles wherein lie dangerous boxed carbs and sugary bits with questionable motives. And I come home with diet bread, which molds because I can’t stand to eat it, and vegetables, which go bad because they make me gag, and fruit that I eventually pick up only to find it waaaaay too soft and more often than not sitting in a pool of its own excrement. Although I have a theory that everybody does that with fruit. If it happens enough that Eddie Izzard has a bit about it, then it’s not just me.
Point being, I don’t bring a lot of crap into my home. I have the fridge and cupboards of a thin person. How then, you may reasonably wonder, have I re-gained like, what, I don’t know I haven’t weighed in a while, maybe 20 pounds? Ish? 20-ish pounds? Maybe not that much. My clothes are starting to feel tight, that’s all I know. Well, part of the problem is that I have been rehearsing and performing in a show for five weeks (with another weekend to go) that requires me to eat a lot of junk food. And really, there’s nothing I can do about that. But that alone isn’t enough for this kind of weight gain. And my pantry isn’t the culprit. It must be the eating of lunches and the fact that when I get home at night, instead of eating one meal, I snack off and on. And on. And on and on and on. Until DAMN. “Does this jacket make me look fat?” “No, your face does.” I miss Chris Farley.
So. So, so, so. So. I make the following declarations, before Syd and everybody: A) this shall not stand. B) it’s never too late. C) I have a heinous sinus headache today that is kill. ing. me. D) I will NOT let the egg mcmuffin I had for breakfast throw me for the day. Egg mcmuffins are allowed three times a week on the LAWL plan. Which I am still on. Even though I don’t go weigh in anymore. Or eat their crap-o bars. Suck it, Sandra. E) I swear to you all that I am not going to snack into oblivion tonight. I’m not. Because I’ll feel that you are watching me. Remember that 80s song, by that black guy who had like a british accent, and he was all “I always feel like, somebody’s watchin’ meeeeee, and I have no privacy, whoa oh oh oh.” Remember that? He had a jeri curl. And Michael Jackson sang background vocals on the chorus. That has nothing to do with anything, I just started thinking about it. And I don’t want to think about dieting because it’s hard. So I’m trying to change the subject. And I have a really bad headache and I just want something to make me feel better. Like a whole pan of lasagna. And I know that nobody reads this anymore because I haven’t updated in so long so I can say things like that with no shame. In fact, I could say a whole lot of things that I would never otherwise say if I thought anyone were actually reading this still. Like, oh I don’t know, I’m not a lesbian, but I would still do Salma Hayek. Or Angelina Jolie. Or, one time, my first year out of college, I joined a dating service. Not the online kind because I’m old and they didn’t have those back then. But one of the old fashioned kind where you had to go in and browse through binders of people. And I’m secretly afraid of dogs. And if you ask me if these pants make you look fat, I will always tell you no, even if it’s a hideous lie. Always.
And I not-so-secretly wish I were thin.
0 Responses to “Secrets and lies”