We have this tree fort in our backyard that was referenced a lot this weekend. Most everyone who looked at it wanted to know if we could get into it. Yes, we said, when we first moved here but now, after two years of Tennessee food, neither one of us could get the lower part of our bodies up the hatch hole. In fact, other than the squirrels and the owls, no one has been in the tree fort in two years. Which makes me sad. Not the fact that I haven’t been in it. It’s a freaking death trap of rotten wood and squirrel poop. No, the fact that I couldn’t if I wanted to is bumming me out. Husband and I were talking once about losing weight and he suggested taking an unflattering naked picture and putting it on a file with a time lock that will release if we have not met our weigh goal by the time allowed. Husband is bat shit crazy. I’m mortified over the picture that was posted of my last week while I was in the midst of a hot flash from an angle that makes me look wider than a bus. Why the heck would I try to take an unflattering NAKED picture and put it on a computer so that someone could hack it should they so desire and put all over the Internet. Yeah, I know that Sony emails are more exciting than a naked picture of me in all my phat-ness. So combine a fat faced fat assed picture with a tree house I can no longer get into and I’m apparently having a problem. And apparently, my issues with weight due to the aforementioned food, have reached the point where THIS HAS HAPPENED: IN LETTER AND EMAIL FORM!!!
Now, I doubt that Vanderbilt is stalking my Facebook page or driving slowly by my house as I waddle up the driveway to put out the garbage cans. In fact, I’m slim compared to most of the waddlers here in Nashville so I doubt a drive-by fat stalker would give me a second look. But, they got my information somewhere – damn water on the knee Dr.’s visit – and now I’m on the list for information about surgical weight loss and frankly I’m insulted. I’m not that fat! I’m PHAT! But in reality, my weight has reached the point where I’m going to need to buy new clothes and so because I’m cheap and vain, I’m aware that I need to do something about it now. I'm also aware that I've said this several times in the last few years but that was before I was fat-stalked by surgeons with weight loss knives. Now, when FIL was here, he was doing the 5:2 diets - eat what you want for five days and fast/eat no more than 600 calories on two days. While I can see that he’s has some major weight loss in the year since we’d seen him, I don’t think that five daily breakfasts of o.j. cereal, toast, two eggs, four pieces of bacon, coffee and two cookies on the days will be countered by eating a banana and a yogurt on the two fast days. BUT what I’m doing of eating whatever is near my face at all hours of the day isn’t doing much to change the slide up the scale. I actually paid attention to my food choices during FIL’s eating days and while most of them weren’t going to win me nutrition medals, my portions weren’t out of control. My eating hours and lack of movement were. At my healthiest, which was also my thinnest, I was walking to work six miles round trip. No only was I moving but my stress levels by the time I reached home were so dang low, I was too happy to eat what I shouldn’t. Here my movement is more like the 5:2 version: I sit on my ass for five days and move for two. And it’s not working. So yesterday I embarked on a brain change. (Again.) I’m starting with a three day fast of water and yucky cleanse stuff. Don’t judge you healthy nurse-y people. It’s my version of a kick in the ass. (And boy is that more grossly literal that you think.) Husband tried a three day fast a few months ago and it kick started his brain change. And that kick plus his new eating plan of only two meals a day– which I totally don’t approve of – has brought him a twenty-pound weight loss. Of course, he’s also been in the basement building the studio, moving and lifting and generally not sitting on his ass and that has totally helped. So has his not getting out of bed until 11am and having his first of two meals a day at lunch time. Of course that means his second meal is around 8:30pm, which is too late for me. By then I’m on my butt in front of the TV and digesting while lying down is not a good thing. So basically, I’m blaming Husband for my fat, non fort-climbing ass. Which I feel is an accurate point of view because I’ve gained 32lbs (!!!) and a mountain of debt since I met him so it really is his entire fault. To sum it all up, what I’m saying is I’m fat enough for Vanderbilt to send me multiple notifications about my fatness and it’s all Husband’s fault. It has nothing to do with my late night eating, lack of movement and love of fries. Glad I cleared that up. Now off I go to drink water full of pepper and cry.
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AuthorMy name is ej. I'm a girl. I say that because with the short hair and the short initials, folks aren't always sure. More brilliant insights to who I am in About me Archives
April 2019
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