Remember when I said I’m naturally skinny (and that you could hate me?), well, I think my eating habits are catching up to me.
I don’t keep a scale in my house. I just don’t. I don’t think it’s nice or fair or healthy. I say that because I feel like I would be obsessively weighing myself watching the pounds fluctuate and spiral into a deep depression for the smallest gain.
But lately? I’ve been feeling a little sluggish.
And I’m noticing my clothes fit me a little differently.
And the stick says I’m not pregnant, so it must be my habits.
It could be five pounds. Ten? Maybe fifteen?
It’s nothing that would probably be noticeable to anyone else.
But what does it matter what is noticeable to another person when I. feel. gross.
Anyone who knows me well will tell you that I eat what I want when I want.
And the strange thing is? I hardly ever want veggies or greek yogurt or fancy smoothies.
I want fast food.
And potato chips.
And dessert. Lots and lots of dessert.
But I’m making a change. No, really. I am.
I’m vowing for the rest of the month of September that I will not eat any fast food.
(If you really knew me and knew how often I surrender to fast food in lieu of cooking, you’d probably scoff at this).
I can’t swear off desserts. Not entirely. Not unless you want to hear about me in the news.
I’d be the girl who hurled herself off the tallest building mourning the loss of ice cream and cupcakes.
But I’ll limit them. [wow, it actually hurt to type that].
Maybe a smaller treat every other day?
That one? I’m not so sure I’ll be able to pull off.
But the no fast food? I’ll do it even if it kills me.
Which it won’t because it’s the eating of fast food that will kill me.
I’m swapping pancakes for cereal and a banana.
I already love edamame, so I stocked up and will exchange that for my afternoon snack of a bag few potato chips.
I’m also restarting the Julian Michaels 30 Day Shred.
-That yesterday ended with me coming straight home, crawling into bed and throwing myself a pity party. I think stress just caught up to me, and I was feeling so low and completely weepy. My stomach was feeling off all day, so I loaded up on pepto, antacids and turned S&TC on which turned into Gossip Girl which later inspired a DVD marathon of Dawson’s Creek.
But before the marathon, Mr. Husband came home. He was surprised to find me in bed already (7:30, don’t judge). And he gave me that “I’m concerned” look which sent me into the ugly cry. Why is it that when someone shows concern or asks “are you okay?” we burst into tears? Either way, I pulled the whole scrunched face head in hands high pitched only-dogs-can-hear-you-now explanation of why I was crying. Or rather, lack of explanation.
It’s also okay that after I sobbed into my husband’s shoulder my night turned way around. Mr. Husband crawled into bed next to me, played me in Words With Friends and analyzed the kids on GG and later Dawson’s Creek with me. Also, Bailey cheered my up by being her adorable cute self.
Also, we kind of taught our dog to say “I love you.” She’s not really saying it, but whatever makes us laugh, right?
