First, let me acknowledge haven’t blogged in a coon’s age. I lost inspiration when the blog didn’t go viral and I didn’t become the JK Rowling of weight loss and baked goods. Plus, blogging just started seeming really self indulgent. Sit around, write about your life, and then publish it for the world to see? It’s weird to think about. I have to say, views or not, it is certainly therapeutic.
Great news! I have lost 14 pounds. Part of me is concerned that I’m losing at a glacial pace. I am satisfied with it and when I busted out the calendar, I’m still losing about a pound and a half per week. I don’t find that I struggle with my new lifestyle. I guess that’s another reason why I stopped writing. I felt like I was going to go on this arduous journey where everyday was going to suck ass, but to be fair, I don’t think I have any sort of food addiction. I just made food choices that added up to more calories going in than going out. I have to really tap into my will power on some days, but it basically comes down to making good choices. You just have to.
I hate to admit that I haven’t been exercising as much as I should. I walk a couple times a week and end up doing the heavy strength training at least once a week. The heat has zapped any desire I have to play tennis. I’m working mostly early shifts and so is my husband. Once we get home, we lack the get up and go it takes to make you want to go play tennis in a sauna.
Hey, I hate summer. I really do. I perish in the heat. I don’t wear shorts or swimsuits. I don’t even know how to swim and I really don’t care to learn. I’m 100% a land dweller. I hate the sun. I don’t want sun damage. I am just fine with looking like a vampire and not having a leathery sternum with spots and freckles all over it when I’m 40. The only problem with that is pale legs. I am self conscious about that, especially since when I was younger and knew everything there is to know about my future, I decided I wanted to look like a maniac screaming for attention and get big, weird tattoos on my legs.
If I had a nickel for every time some idiot asked me, “Whurr’d jew getchur tat-too done?” I could afford laser surgery and I’d go get it. I never once considered that anybody would give two shits about what I put on my body, BUT OH BOY, DO THEY!!
Just like the people who care what others do with their privates to someone they love. I’ve never been the type of person to get riled up over what other people want to believe. The more I try to read about science and educate myself and continue to love my position as an atheist, the more I want to die every time someone on my Facebook feed clicks like on Mitt Romney’s page. Or some violently gorey picture of some fake Jesus that they shared because they want to go to Heaven.
Why do many people have skulls that are impenetrable fortresses where no logic or reason could possibly pass through?
Today, an innocent trip to Target put me in the middle of an ignorant shit storm where all these asshats from my area who I can’t get to patiently wait two god damn minutes for a quality latte are fighting their way to get a spot in the miles long line to Chick Fil A where they can proudly support not gay stuff.
What is it to them? And every one I see in this mess is so fat. They and their useless crotch fruit are so fat.. even Mike Huckabee used to be an enormous dude, and he’s telling people to go get fast food and they love every notion of this idea, and how did gluttony from the story book go out the window but this archaic idea of marriage being between a man and a woman stays?
I’m so embarrassed of my fellow Americans. I’m so embarrassed and all I can imagine is what the scandinavian countries must be thinking, assuming they know what Chick Fil A is.
When I went to Iceland, I really stood out at my size because they are all VERY thin. Will and I could hardly fit into the barstools. I was sitting in a touristy Irish themed bar, with the armrests cuddling my fat roll and I was just chugging the cleanest tasting beer ever. After this, I may never go show my American face around there again, even if I reach their national average size of 88 pounds (don’t quote me on that)! And what did I do when I stepped off the plane at JFK airport where a roach fell onto Will’s shoulder? I sighed contentedly that I was home. I took comfort in all the waddling wheezers and I look for fast food. (Traditional Icelandic food is really fucking gross)
My point here isn’t to criticize myself or anyone else for being overweight. It’s the obvious ignorance and hypocrisy at work in all this hatred. I never thought I’d live to see civil rights type bullshit. It is 2012, god damn. I held back and didn’t post any statuses about it on facebook. In recent weeks, I’ve heard two Christians whining about being persecuted, so I really didn’t want to invite any dumb shits to converse with me.
I just had to rant a bit before I could go to sleep tonight. Life is actually pretty awesome. I got a brand new mixer to tear ass with at work. No baking round ups because I’m just too dang busy to take pictures of what I do. Documenting a hobby and documenting what you do at work are totally different things. Will is over 90 days sober. I got a sweet new whip with a reasonable monthly payment. I’m fitting into my old clothes. I love gay people. I’m happy!