That’s what she said…
Last night I ate half of a large pepperoni and sausage pizza. Let’s be clear here – it’s kind of an unwritten rule that if there are two of you who order a pizza you’re obligated to eat half of it. Sure, we could have ordered a medium pizza, or even a small (ha ha, no but seriously), but that’s what pussies do – and we are not pussies. As I was eating the third piece of pizza, I had a little conversation with myself that went like this:
- My Inner Fatty: I wish there was more pepperoni on this pizza.
- Me: Maybe you shouldn’t eat any more pizza. You’ve already had two huge pieces.
- My Inner Fatty: Double pepperoni would have been nice. And maybe an order of chicken wings.
- Me: This is going to put you WAY over your Weight Watchers points for the week.
- My Inner Fatty: We already blew that by Friday. No point in stopping now.
- Me: But we’re making such good progress! Let’s not eat anymore pizza. We’ll regret it in the morning.
- My Inner Fatty: No we won’t. Besides, you’ve had a bad week. You deserve it. Feelings taste good. This sauce is pretty nice, and the crust is thin.
- Me: It is kind of good.
- My Inner Fatty: You can start over tomorrow.
- Me: I’ll grab another piece.
Fast forward to this morning and I feel like a fat hog without self control. Stupid diet and exercise.
I see my skinny friends posting on Facebook about how they’re running a 5K, taking another spin class, doing some zumba, or their yoga and how they’ve never felt better. Meanwhile my version of exercise is lifting my flabby arm off the couch to change the channel. They’re reshaping their bodies while I’m checking out the latest episode of Dateline.
And then there are all the diets: Paleo, Clean Eating, Whole30. Yes, I get the allure of it – and I do see the benefits. But there’s no way I’m giving up alcohol, and I’m not giving up carbs. Fuck that.
(In somewhat unrelated news I had a friend who didn’t know what the Paleo diet was and I told her it was the same thing as the caveman diet. She’d never heard of it so I said, “You have to go out and hunt and kill your own food.” And she was like, “REALLY?!?!” And then I laughed and laughed. In her defense, she’s a natural blond.)
So like a typical Sunday morning after I’ve splurged like a fatty all weekend, I’ve regained my resolve to eat better and to be better to my body. In moderation – everything in moderation. This whole resetting of behaviors starts off the same: with me sitting on the couch looking through recipes on Pinterest and planning all my meals for the rest of the week. And maybe pinning some drink recipes too (shh, don’t tell). That’s balanced with checking out Facebook to see what all my friends have been up to.
I’ll tell you what, if you could lose weight by stalking people on Facebook and pinning recipes on Pinterest you probably won’t ever make, I’d be a size 2 instead of a 12. And you know what? Size 2 people look kind of bony and gross, so it’s just as well that I’m a 12.
Unfortunately, it’s kind of a jiggly 12. Why won’t my fat just go away on it’s own??
It’s so depressing.
I need a cookie.