I'm gonna do something rare here and actually blog about weight loss. More specifically, the lack of. That's right, I haven't lost anything. None. I've lost like negative weight. Let's make it sound better: I haven't not gained weight. There.
Man, I dunno. It sucks because I kinda don't care. Like, I have so much shit going on right now that the last thing I wanna think about is finding a way to trick myself into eating 9 servings of fruits and vegetables a day.
But on the flip side of that...I feel like ass. Like, constantly. My back has been all effed up for weeks now. And like, of course! Backs aren't made to support 400 pounds in a pair of old shitty Vans. My heart keeps getting that racy feeling it gets when I eat like I've been eating. It's a signal. Like a subtle WTFBITCH! I know, I know, okay? Calm down!
Like, work has really been kicking my ass lately. I'm not used to all this...working...at work. I dunno why I'm so damn busy but it makes me long for the days when I could complain about just being bored. So when I get home, I don't wanna do ANYTHING...except, I gotta pack. Cause like, we're moving in 5 DAYS! I always forget how much moving sucks until I have to...move...again. Sigh.
Then I have all this junk going on with my family because my sister's a c-word and my dad's all needy and elderly and unemployed and everyone hates each other and I'm like "didn't I move halfway across the country to escape all this?" But they still call me, and they want me to offer solutions and lend (read: give) my dad money I don't really have and call and talk to my bitchy sister and listen to her play the victim when she's so obviously the catalyst for all these problems and blah blah fucking blah! GAH!
So during all this, I'm still supposed to grocery shop, and cook, and clean, and shower, and wake up, and go to work, and drive in my hot ass car, and I mean, yeah, I CAN fit it all in, but I just DON'T. Something has to suffer and unfortunately, it's my health. And I just don't care. And that part sucks. Because I NEED to care. I wanna say like "I'll start right now!" But I won't. I just figured out a brilliant plan to get me out of cooking all week just by packing up my whole kitchen this weekend.
I dunno, it's always on my mind. Being fat is ALWAYS on my mind. Losing weight is ALWAYS on my mind. I'm thinking about it, and hopefully that will lend itself to forcing me to do something about it because I'm worried I'm gonna be one of those people who has to like be on death's doorstep before I change my ways. My mom had four heart attacks and a stroke and 2 angioplasties and a quadruple bypass and she still ate like crap until the day she died, and I wonder like, is this apathy ingrained or am I just that lazy? Maybe both. I dunno. My greatest fear is like having a heart attack as a giant fattie. What a total fucking cliche! Yet, it's the obvious path unless I snap the fuck outta this funk and get my ass in gear.
We now return you to your regularly scheduled blogging already in progress...THIS IS NOT JUST A WEIGHT LOSS BLOG yadda yadda HOT BOYS etc etc.
P.S. To end on a high note, I'm finding a lot of buried treasures while emptying and packing up my closets. Some good: a TON of wrapping paper, my bracelet beads, my nun lunchbox, a cool box of stickers. Some bad: cat turds, Jeff's ukelele (nooooo!), a bunch of old broken bongs. Gotta take the good with the bad, folks.