I think the honeymoon is over. For six wonderful months, I did not crave
food. I guess I still don’t crave food,
but put a chocolate cake, zinger, chip, candy bar, milk, coated eyeball in
front of me and I want to eat it. Sorry
Nancy, it’s not easy to “just say no.” The
world revolves around chocolate. I’m
going to poke my eyes out.
I’ve been stuck in the mud for a while. The weight used to pour off of me. I’d stand on the scale and watch the numbers
turn backward; the excess weight pouring onto the floor and down the drain. Then,
I hit 235 pounds. Hit it with a nice juicy
splat like a bug hitting a windshield.
Guts all over the scale. It took
me forever (eternity + one day) to get from 235 to 230. Now I’m stuck at 230. The chocolate doesn’t help. Neither does the Ambien-fueled raids on the
pantry at 2 AM.
Some days I’m at 228.
I think I even tricked the scale into saying 225 one morning. But, like a homing pigeon, my body always
comes back to 230.
Amazingly, I can eat less than one pound of food and gain
three pounds overnight. I think it’s our
cats’ fault. They’re stuffing my mouth
with cat treats and saying, “chew on these big-boy and tell me if they taste
like treats!!” We have picky cats.
My body has chosen to lose weight everywhere that I don’t
want it to. It thinks it’s hilarious. Its constant laughing keeps me awake. I’ve lost 80 pounds everywhere but my
belly. I’ve lost in my arms and legs and
my umm… bottom. My legs are skinny
enough that I can cross them in an effeminate way. I don’t mean to. I’m scared about it. I cross my legs. Twenty minutes later my legs are crossed like
I’m trying to modestly wear a short skirt.
I’ll put them into a manly leg cross.
Twenty minutes later: mini-skirt.
It’s not a good look for a guy. I
don’t know. Maybe it would look better
without the high heels.
Is the great fat shedding of 2011-2012 ended? I hope not.
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