Tag: Weight

October 11, 2018

Maybe someday I’ll lose weight and make a million dollars a day and save all the dogs and help my family and run a marathon (this somehow seems the least likely to me) and watch my own show on TV and save the planet/reverse climate change and travel everywhere on my list.

The least likely one of those is actually lose weight. I don’t know why. I probably don’t care about it all that much. When I’m tired/bored/anxious/sad/annoyed/tired again/any other feeling, food seems like the only thing that makes me feel better at all.

Day 123 – Weighed Down

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

July 25, 2018

I ate two desserts today. TWO. I am part of a “nutrition” group for 30 days, and today I had TWO DESSERTS. So, I’m obviously succeeding at this.

I think working out is supposed to be part of this as well. I walked about 800 steps total today, and half of those steps were to GET THE DESSERTS. Is this how everyone loses weight? This will work, right? High calorie, little to no exercise?

This sort of took the edge off being rejected from more jobs AND being told that even working for a friend FOR FREE was met with “hmmm, maybe, I’ll let you know.” Not sure why no one thinks I can do anything useful, but I need to find a way to show people that I know what I’m doing because I don’t know if you know this, but it’s hard to live on zero dollars of income a month.

Everyone (my mom) is ready for me to get a job, especially me (my mom) because if I don’t, I’ll have to live with my family (my mom) and I will not be able to survive that (my mom). So here’s to finding something!

Day 45 – Eating my feelings of rejection

July 9, 2018

Oh, today was one of those days where I started questioning EVERYTHING. I went to this Writer’s Group and not only were all the “Oh, I just decided to write this today because why not?” scenes amazing and well-written, but they were also clever ideas and very successful people (already working at their craft, PAID, and no one with side jobs at Uber or Starbucks – which is not to insult either of those, but to insinuate that not everyone chooses those careers for life).

And I was just sitting there, eating coffee cake, wondering if I should rewrite a scene where I have my character get stuck in a box. WE CAN’T ALL BE QUENTIN TARANTINO OR ALFRED HITCHCOCK OR NORA EPHRON OR ISSA RAE. SOME OF US HAVE TO BE SOMEONE ELSE THAT YOU’VE MAYBE HEARD OF BUT PROBABLY NOT.

I just realized, quite quickly, that my ideas are not very original, my writing is dialogue-heavy and not very interesting, and I should maybe stick to writing picture books (I can’t draw). What a DAY, PEOPLE. There are some days where I wonder if I was put on this planet to simply take up space and singlehandedly support the restaurant business in Los Angeles. (And disappoint my mother. Lest we forget…)

So now I’m questioning absolutely everything like 1. Should I even be a writer? 2. Do I actually look terrible as a blonde? 3. At what point does it stop being cute that I’m steadily gaining weight? A LOT OF WEIGHT?!? 4. How much Netflix is research and how much is too much? 5. Is there a way to ensure I’m reborn as a dog, but not just any dog, my dog, who is the cutest and gets all the loves and naps and food she wants? 6. BUT, LIKE, FOR REAL: SHOULD I BE A WRITER?

Day 29 – Questions. No answers.