HateWatchers

2006-08-03T17:18:00.000-07:00

Today is horrible. Sorry I'll post.

2006-07-31T13:14:00.000-07:00

Something happened at the Nordstrom Anniversary Sale this weekend that pushed me back into this blog and back into the world of points, empty liquor cabinets and exercise. What kind of horrendous event could possibly push this gin-loving, exercise shy 25 year old into a life of fruits, vegetables and jogging?

The 360 degree mirror under neon lights and… my ass.

I stood there, bare naked as I removed the most beautiful dress I’d ever laid eyes on, thanking GOD that we have to wear clothing because I am quite certain the sight of my pale white rear view would induce vomiting and retinal burning.

“OH MY GAWWWWWWD…..” I whispered to myself, as if I had never laid eyes on my body before. “How did this happen?”

So folks, I am back. I apologize for the jumping off the wagon and the fact I have been the worst blogger ever created. I will promise to update this little guy every Thursday, post-HateWatchers meeting. Check back this Thursday, as I will enter back into the world I hate more than anything, except my posterior.

P.S. I'm going to Mexico for Christmas and want to do a little ticker to keep me/my ass in check... how does one post a ticker?

2006-06-27T12:37:00.000-07:00

It’s been a few days and I haven’t updated as many (my huge audience of readers) can see, so I will take a few stabs at writing a masterpiece while I continually get more and more uptight during my calling spree….

Points: fuck it.

After reading amandalicious’ post, I figured I would try scrapping the whole thing and eating sensibly without counting every dayum thing that went into my mouth and lo and behold, I get this statement from bf:

“Have you lost weight?”

WTF?! Have I lost weight?? I FOUND weight, if you’re asking, but I don’t think I’ve lost a damn pound. Maybe I washed it down with the wine I bought at the Safeway wine sale. Two bottles of wine for $7 instead of $26?! HELLO CHRISTMAS CAME EARLY!!! I was nearly embarrassed about how excited I was to see hundreds of bottles of hangover, all marked down for my dehydrated enjoyment! The smile that came upon my face when I found this particular find which was pretty much BOGO hasn’t made an appearance since I got that My Little Pony castle when I was 4. Funny, if you took a picture of that moment and the wine extravaganza moment, I look just as drunken and bum-like, but this time I was not wearing pajamas… or was I?

I’m not sure if two bottles of merlot is the best diet (not consumed alone, there were 3 others there, and I probably threw down a half bottle). I DID successfully drink my points instead of eating them, keeping in a good range of pointage for the day, but I’m sure I’m still at the same weight. All of my pounds hold onto my body for dear life, much like Jack and that selfish bitch Rose along with all the others to the rafts of the Titanic when the ship went down. Maybe if I trick my pounds into thinking that there is no iceberg ahead, they will get off the voyage and onto other adventures, especially adventures on people I don’t like. Can you imagine that? If you could magically transfer your bastard pounds onto people you don’t like? I can think of a few people that would become massively obese and end up on Maury or some shit, pleading to help them get out of their house and to help them stop eating 30 bologna sandwiches and 2 liters of Mr. Pibb in one sitting (laying). Most of these people who would get my extra pounds would be:

- Creed
- The GD caterpillars from Money Tree
- Jessica Simpson (Go Team Lachey!)
- The Klan
- Those sex offenders on Dateline

I think that’s it.

And now, back to work. Caesar salad for lunch…. And it’s LIGHT!

2006-06-22T12:10:00.000-07:00

Today's Status:

Points eaten: 9 of 22. And it's only noon.
Sausage and egg breakfast sandwiches at Starbucks turned down: 1.

Do you know what time it is? Time to be at the WW at Work meeting! Lo and behold, I am at my desk, blogging and returning vm and e-mails from people that I really wish would just cough up a ton of money so I can buy a new Coach purse. Oh, and pay bills, but whatever.

I was e-mailing with my friend H the other day (also known as yesterday) and I told her I felt that since I have started WW, I have felt as if I am eating worse than I started. I constantly think about food, how hungry I am, when I can eat the next miniscule packaged meal and most importantly, who cares? She said that she decided to make a conscious effort to eat more vegetables, but by the end of the month, she had actually eaten less (none) than before she decided to change her lifestyle! Why do we do this? Has this happened to any of you?

I don’t think I’m totally disgusting, but it’s apparent that I do need to lose a few pounds, especially when I tell people I am going through this hell program and they tell me what a great idea it is. I pretend that I’m happy they’re rooting for me, but in the back of my mind, I picture myself lunging at them, much like a lion would on a crippled zebra while tearing them apart with my incisors. I guess I’ve been in large ass denial, giving the world the big middle finger every time I’ve picked up a beer (that’s what I’m thinking about right now, a tasty Pyramid Hefe with a lemon….) and thinking I’m being rebellious to the idea that we all have to be tiny to be loved and admired. Fuck you, media.

Woah, this just got very deep all of the sudden. Paging Dr. Phil (why haven’t I sprung for the additional $5 for the DVR?!)

Most of the time, I don’t care. But this morning when I put on a shirt, I realized that my mid section appears as if I have been carrying twins throughout a particularly rough first trimester. It inspired me to write a letter:

Dear midsection and all other portions of body that have unwanted jiggling parts,

Please fuck off. Right. Fucking. Now.

Sincerely,
The Management.

Deprivation causes me to swear like a rap star.

Well, it’s Thursday, which means the weekly re-start of trying this all over again. So far, things have started well, with an English muffin, scrambled eggs and low fat cheddar and I’m hoping it will not end with 3 slices of pizza and a bottle of wine. Yet I somehow feel it might. Wish me luck!!!

2006-06-21T17:04:00.000-07:00

Points eaten: 98765654 of 22 allotted.
Bars of chocolate: 1.
Alcohol units: none… yet.
Turkey club sandwiches dipped in vegetable soup from Pike Place because soup and sandwiches are the only things I want to eat (besides entire bars of Hersheys): ¾.

Maybe it is the combination of being stressed from Harley’s (my dog) beat down/my boss telling me I need to have more “yeses” or the complete depletion of my bank account thanks to the vet bill this morning at SEVEN EFFING THIRTY, but blogging isn’t my cup of tea at this very moment. Yeah, it is that time of the month, and I pretty much want to throw myself into a small padded box and flail about like two fighting cats until I settle down. Maybe I will go for a run instead.

Haha did you know I am also a comedian?

2006-06-20T16:40:00.000-07:00

P.S. Does anyone think I should join the Weight Watchers "WebRing?" Do you think I would get kicked out of that clique or maybe it would be inspiring, like a really kick-ass episode of Oprah? Thoughts.

2006-06-20T16:32:00.000-07:00

This section of the post has been deleted with the very wise suggestion from my friend who does not want me to lose my job in Heaven....

So basically, this blog is a shrine to my acquired hate for “diets” and “getting in shape.” I feel the majority of America can relate to my plight, and I get this feeling from my recent trip to Northern Idaho where I witnessed a lot of unnecessary white thighs from both myself and the natives while boating.

Thigh hate and a general wonder of “where in the hell did this roll of fat come from?” sparked my desire to do the two things you should do when you want to lose weight:

Get in the gym.
Eat less.

Knowing I can easily justify a Red Robin burger with a ginormous beer over a much healthier spinach salad with grilled chicken and ice water (“it’s about the same amount of calories, and besides, I probably will walk it off… maybe that’s in the next month, but…”) and that I admittedly take the elevator when no one is looking because “my shoes don’t allow for travel up three flights” (they’re flats most of the time) I hired the help of a Bally Total Fitness Trainer and Weight Watchers. I also decided to write really long sentences.

As all dieters do, they go through a day (week… month… lifetime, okay, 25 years) of eating really poorly and then preparing for that one day where their life is going to magically turn into a world of brown rice, healthy fats from olive oil and nuts and lots and lots of fruits and vegetables. And of course, 8 glasses of water a day. I chose to eat myself ill from my favorite weakness of all time: Papa John’s Hawaiian pizza and cheese sticks with… oh yeah… garlic butter and ranch. I swear to God when you go to Heaven (which is also my job, but we can’t talk about that because the HR Gods get their knickers in a twist) all you eat is that, but your body stays as fabulous as Gisele’s and you shop a lot.

June 1 rolled around shortly thereafter, which was day one of Weight Watchers and personal training. Here is how it went:

6:00 a.m.: Puke three times at the gym because I haven’t set foot in Bally’s for, okay, let’s be honest…. 6 months.
11:30: Attend Weight Watchers at work, where many women group together and bitch. I have decided to call this “Divorced Women’s Group.” The leader is a nice lady, who reminds me a lot of a Sunday school teacher with her pearls and sweatshirts with white embroidered collars. She says “piddle” a lot when we talk about how much water we should drink, and probably tells her Bichon Frise to “tinkle” or “pee pee” before Daddy gets home and she cooks some crazy 98 course dinner that is all magically worth 10 points. I’d put money on her children being some kind of drug addicts or sluts.
6:00 p.m. Tell boyfriend that the trainer (lover of pain) told me I am his “prisoner” until I lose 38 (THIRTY EIGHT!) pounds and that I am eating approximately 1200 calories a day with WW to look like a Maxim Top 100 hottie. He thinks its stupid, which is funny coming from someone with a metabolism on meth, and we drink a bottle of wine (2) and call it a night.

I am currently in week three and let me tell you something: I hate Weight Watchers and I hate exercising. I’ve lost and gained the same .25 of a pound. Why, oh WHY can’t that equation be flip-flopped? You know, why can’t I hate eating and love running? Did my genes get put into my pool ass backwards? The point system is primarily angering me. I am supposed to eat only 22 “points” per day, with an additional 35 to use at my discretion throughout the week. Well, you know what? Wine and cocktails isn’t fitting too well into the point system. I asked at the last Hate Watchers meeting if it was wrong to drink your points instead of eating them, and the DWG all had a hearty laugh, but little did they know I really did want to know. I mean, 4 points per glass of wine? 3 per beer? WW women are definitely not drunk sluts.

So, today was another “off” day. I’m sure I’m still at the weight I was 3 weeks ago, and I’m very sure I’m well over the 22 points I’m allotted for the day. Later, I’ll count them all up, and then tomorrow, we’ll have a good laugh that I ate roughly 3 times the allowance per day and then we’ll do it all over again, again, again and again. Until I lose 38 pounds.

Or Jesus returns. Whatever event occurs first.

I am also taking bets.

2006-06-20T14:23:00.000-07:00

Day one of many more day ones, where I realize I am going to have to scrap everything and start again. And again. And again.

Stay tuned for some background, as right now I have to figure out how to work this program called "working" while simultaneously handling a stomach soaked in merlot....