September 19, 2018

I am ready to move forward on losing this sadness weight. Food tastes really good though, y’all.

But my pants don’t fit. And they only get so stretchy. I’d like to comfortably wear jeans. Are there people who comfortably wear their jeans? Like, they don’t have those markings on their stomach when they get home (actually, starting five seconds after putting them on)?

I have a complete outline of the design of my pants on my stomach. And these ARE the stretchy ones. So I need to fix this, fast. Is there any way I can keep eating pizza and the delicious cookie in my hand and still lose weight? Help.

Day 101 – Still sad-fat.

September 12, 2018

I have about 50 extra pounds of sadness on my body. Actual weight. That I’m trying to lose.

But, turns out, it’s hard to lose sadness by the pound. I can pick up the pounds just about anywhere, any time, any day but losing them is so much harder. They always find me.

I tried to lose them today… That went about as well as expected. I ate pizza when I got sad. A sandwich when the sadness came back. A brownie because brownies are delicious and I made the mistake of buying them.

You can physically see how sad I am. And when I go to the gym and see rail thin movie stars – true story, my gym is basically at a movie theatre where there was a premier today so I had to walk past them in shorts and a smelly t-shirt that’s fitted* – I was reminded of just how far I have to go. I can literally measure my sadness by the pound. And I can see how much I still have around. Pants don’t fit over my sadness stomach.

Day 94 – Weighed Down

*it’s supposed to be loose

June 17, 2018

I skipped a trip to Vegas partially because I felt bad that I hadn’t seen certain friends of mine for a while. But then they ended up working all day today so… I spent the entire day on my couch. Oh, until I went to Complete Foods to get cookies and brownies saying to myself “I’ll eat one today and one tomorrow,” and then ate two brownies and three cookies and now here we are.

Instead of doing something useful, I watched a documentary, then a romantic comedy, then more Parks and Recreation. And ate junk food. I don’t know how to do this right.

I called my dad for Father’s Day and he complained and talked a lot and then hung up on me when he got out of the car because “I don’t know how to get the dang thing off my car once I’m talking on it.”

The movie I watched was about a woman who is a writer who struggles to get her work seen and find love. But of course, within one hour of watching time and one month of movie time, that all changes. Love, work, friendship, success, career satisfaction, and the meaning of life all get worked out in one movie month and it’s, you know, a little disheartening to realize that if I were just a movie character instead of a real person, my shit would get figured out a whole lot faster.

But for some reason I have to figure out my own shit. What a crock. No one tells you about that. When I was a kid, no one sat me down and said, “hey, when you move out of here, you’ll have to pay for literally everything yourself, you cannot actually do anything you set your mind to (people have to hire you and to get hired, that’s called nepotism), and success is but a construct that everyone else you know will fulfill except you. Oh, and someone will invent Facebook and Instagram and people will start to pretend they’re perfect so you’ll get to contend with that. Good luck.”

I made a pizza, a to-do list, and washed dishes today. I also put on real pants (leggings). Where’s my gold star?

I checked my steps counter on my phone. 1700 steps. That’s not even a mile.

Day Seven – Well, I cried at a clip of someone singing on America’s Got Talent. If that tells you anything…