Krispy Kreme Doughnuts

Hips don’t lie. And neither does my ginormous ass.

I’ve been on a “journey” (I hate that fucking word when it comes to most anything due to its abuse by millions of women everywhere but there it is) with my weight for years.  I had lost almost 100 pounds, total, as of last summer.  I lost it after several years of amazing victories despite myself.  There were also amazing defeats, obviously, which is why it took several years but this failure takes the cake.  And Krispy Kreme doughnuts.  And pizza.  I have gained back, as of Monday, 42 pounds of that weight.  I have gained almost half of what I lost in total.

I was talking with my friend Kari on the phone yesterday for a good while and although we didn’t linger on my epic weight “journey” failure, I realized after I talked to her that I felt much better.  It was like confessional.  It’s like I’m not trying to be a closet failure anymore, I’m owning it.  Don’t misunderstand me.  If you’re friends with me on Facebook, you’ve seen my pictures.  You know I’ve put on weight since last summer.  Of course, we all try to choose the best photos to post but there’s no hiding weight gain like that eventually and even if you can, the scale will wake you up with the cold, hard, brutal numbers when you finally take that step to face reality.

As therapeutic as the conversation with Kari was, I feel the need for more confession.  I haven’t wanted to write blog posts lately.  We were on vacation in Orlando all last week but it’s more than that.  I’m angry at myself.  I hurt myself more than any enemy ever could.  I sabotaged myself in a way no one else could ever do, even if they tried.  I don’t exactly feel like coming here to make my regular four readers laugh, as much as I love you all.

Kari and I also discussed the “flavors” of different blogs.  Some are funny.  Some are serious.  Some will send you on a downward spiral into hell from which it could take days to come back from.  I don’t really “do” serious.  My teenage son is autistic, has Crohn’s, G6PD, migraines and epilepsy.  E and I have nearly lost both of our children, on more than one occasion, to medical issues that Doctors told us “almost never happen”.  I’m kind of done with serious.  I’ve had it with drama.  There is enough drama and sadness and tragedy in this world already.  I don’t want to put more sadness out there.  I don’t want anyone to walk away from my blog more depressed than they were before they came here.  I want to make you laugh.  I want to make your day better.  I don’t want to be the shit on your shit sandwich or your Debbie Downer.

But I’m human, too.  I have to unload this burden so I can move on.  And I know this isn’t the worst thing to happen to anyone.  Please don’t think I’m not sitting here feeling like a giant (literally) ass hole.  Because there are women out there at this very minute being told they have breast cancer.  Or that their child is dying.  Or that their husband has decided to leave them.  There are people burying their last parent today.  I do have some perspective on this.

I started a very intense diet (again) on Monday.  Due to the added weight and high impact exercise I should not even have attempted in the last few months, my knee is jacked up now but I will start low impact exercise today and get back in the gym.  I am happy to report that I am down 4.6 pounds so far this week and that’s a start.  If any of you write that off as “water weight”, I will come to your house and sit on you while eating a Krispy Kreme doughnut, fuckers.  I’m not even kidding.  Okay, I would only eat a rice cake but it’ll still hurt you like hell.  So just don’t do it.

Thank you for reading this.  I feel so much better, like after I get good and drunk on wine with my best friend Sylvia and then spend the next couple hours literally blubbering and ugly crying on her.  Yes, she’s a Saint and it’s only happened once (the blubbering and ugly crying, the wine thing has happened a lot.  A LOT.) but it was very purifying and this blog post has done much the same thing for me.

This is not a weight/fitness blog, obviously, but I will keep you updated on my progress every once in a while.

Love yourself, no matter what your struggle is right now.  Be kind to yourself today.  I love you all.

WTF Wednesday: How To Remain A Virgin On Prom Night

Just a note:  My husband said this post made absolutely no sense to him at first because on his phone, the video is positioned at the bottom of the post.  So please watch the video, wherever it may be on your device screen, first.  Then proceed to read the post.  Thank you!

I meant to start my series called “WTF Wednesday” months ago but I haven’t really seen anything that made me care enough to actually start the series. Until now.

Exactly as I did in my Oscar The Grouch panty post, I’m just going to do the uncensored stream of thought thing here.

Is your goal to make it through prom with your dick firmly entrenched inside your pants?  Do you wear a purity ring?  Is your prom date Honey Boo Boo or her mother?  Do you practice voodoo and want to be ready for anything?  Is the grease from the chicken leg a last resort lubricant if your dick does make it out of your pants?  Are you a cast or family member of Duck Dynasty?  Are you gay (no judgement), still in the closet and want to show your disdain for the female gender by pinning dead, deep fried body parts of a mostly harmless animal to your date’s wrist?  As a child, did you hate your See ‘N Say with a fiery passion and make a silent pact to yourself that one day, one sweet day, you would get your revenge on that motherfucking chicken and maintain your virginity in one fell swoop?  If you nodded enthusiastically to any of the above, well then, you have hit the jackpot.

Now just some general questions and thoughts:  What’s the style etiquette on this chicken leg thing?  Is the chicken leg the new white shoe, meaning your ass will be voted off of the Southern Spring Azalea Trail Tour if you’re caught rocking that bitch before Easter?  Will KFC eventually offer necklace charms that can hold BBQ sauce and a wet nap?  Can I get a chicken liver boutonniere for my date?  Will KFC eventually up their game and offer wedding bouquets featuring a bucket of chicken and two family sides?  Is it in really bad taste (pun intended) to do the Chicken Dance while wearing a chicken corsage?  I had two dates to the prom so I would’ve really caused a spike in quadriplegic chicken stats.  Actually, a chicken doesn’t have four limbs so what would that be called? Duoriplegic?  Will Miley Cyrus gyrate naked on a giant fried chicken leg in her next video?  Dear God, KFC, what have you done?!  Think of the ramifications.

If you really, really like the girl, can you upgrade to a breast?  Personally, I think chicken legs may as well be chicken ass.  If a chicken corsage could translate to emotion, it would be flaming, all consuming, death seeking hatred.  There’s not an emoticon for that but now there is a corsage for that.

And finally, if you’re going to give me a corsage I can eat, it had better include a Krispy Kreme Dougnut because I can and will totally beat your ass with a chicken leg.