Obese Tuesday

They say you should treat your body like a temple.  Earlier today, in honor of Mardi Gras, I treated my body like a fast food joint, and I am currently in the process of treating it like a tavern.

I decided to give up Diet Coke for Lent for the second year in a row.  Actually, I am giving up all soft drinks, but I don't really drink anything other than Diet Coke, except Diet Pepsi in situations of extreme desperation.  Derrick wondered why I didn't give up something easier, and I thought, "Easier than Diet Coke?  Like ... food?  And water?  Like Jesus gave up for you?"

I managed to squeeze in approximately 50 ounces of Diet Coke today in about four hours as a sort of TTFN between me and God's nectar.  I also ate a giant, bring-the-tooth-pain buttercream chocolate egg.  I was so Charlie Sheened up on caffeine and sugar that my walk home from work - which normally takes 30 minutes at a swift pace - was only 20 minutes.  I pretty much collapsed on the bed when I got home, but still: magical Diet Coke-fueled strength and speed!  I am an UNSTOPPABLE LOCOMOTIVE OF TORPEDOES AND PEGASUS UNICORNS MADE OF PURE STEEL!

See?  Charlie Sheened up.

 

How To Earn Extra Money Without Getting A Second Job

The best time to begin a workout challenge is the day you somehow injure your neck.  It's also a good idea to start working out heavily and competitively on a day you decide to give blood.  And, as an added bonus, if you throw in some beautiful freezing rain, you just might have walked right into the least challenging challenge ever.

Since Derrick and I have been living on such a limited income for the past year and a half, I've decided it's time to start pilfering money from my colleagues so I can afford that extra box of wine every month.  So, I organized a workout challenge wherein whoever (whomever?) works out the most hours after four weeks wins 70% of the entry fees, and whoever comes in second wins 30%.  There are some real Competitive Cathys here at the office, but my coworkers obviously have no idea what I am capable of. 

I am reminded of an office workout pool Derrick joined back in Colonial times when he was working.  He ate nothing but beef jerky for weeks and on the day of his final weigh-in, he fasted and wore three pairs of sweatpants and three sweatshirts and worked out for hours in an effort to lose every ounce of water he could afford. 

He won several hundred dollars, which we presumably blew on food.

Yum.

Skins and Skinniness and a Real-Life Consciousness Stream

This week's premiere of the American version of the U.K.'s Skins and its corresponding disapproval has inspired me to completely skip it altogether in favor of streaming the British original on Netflix.  I'm pretty much obsessed with it and now spend my days at work wishing I were one of our interns so that I could get away with actually sitting at my desk, watching TV.

One of the characters does a spectacular job of committing to her eating disorder.  It reminded me of my 8th grade year when I gave anorexia a go.  I didn't lose any weight or get nearly as much attention as I thought I would so I was like, "Well ... screw this," and started eating again.

Presently, I am haunted by Natalie Portman's frighteningly thin frame in Black Swan.  Derrick and I were dazzled by this film and by Natalie.  Now there's a girl who doesn't value dinners consisting of blocks of cheese and boxes of wine!  Who does that?  What?

In all seriousness, we haven't seen The Social Network, but every time it wins another award, Derrick has a temper tantrum because he refuses to believe it is better than Black Swan.  It will be interesting to see what happens on Oscar night!  Wait.  No.  It is never interesting to see what happens on Oscar night, and yet I watch it year after year, like a dog who keeps getting its ass kicked for peeing on the rug, over and over, never learning my lesson, suffering through the insufferable awards and inevitably falling asleep before the important ones.

Maybe I will go to the gym instead.

My pre-wedding refrigerator contents, circa spring 2009.
Bouquet, spring mix, water, face mask.
And I think an apple down there somewhere.
Yeah, I looked awesome.

Christmas Hiatus and Our First Drawering of Franco

We are super excited that Christmas break is finally upon us.  Derrick has one more final exam and then we're off to North Carolina to perfectly split our time equally between our two families!  You can't let anyone get jealous of anyone else so early in your marriage.  Remember that, ladies.

Part of our time is going to be spent holed up with Bill and Sandy H. off the Blue Ridge Parkway, minus internet, and the rest of our time will be spent eating Derrick's Mamaw's Balls of Fury.  Get your heads out of the gutter.  They're peanut butter-butterscotch balls, they're about 5,000 calories apiece, Christmas is incomplete without them, and you will die unhappy and unfulfilled if you never get to sink your teeth into one of Mamaw's balls.

It should be a really fun drive tomorrow.  12 wrapped gifts, 11 bottles of Leigh Ann's hair products (those points don't just happen, you know), 10 Christmas playlists that we hope Sandy H. won't deem obnoxious (Destiny's Child Christmas tunes, hello!  Classic!), 9 DVDs for when DirecTV gives out in the mountains, 8 extra pounds I've already gained since Thanksgiving, 7 weathermen predicting wintry mixes, and ... 6, 5, 4 of ... something, 3 bottles of Prosecco, 2 cat anxiety pills and 1 super fat and adorable cat who would eat the partridge and the pear tree if given the opportunity.

So... good-byes can be awkward, much like the number 2011.  Which is when we'll be back.  Seriously, 11, what's the deal?

Franco Has A Lot Of Eating To Do To Catch Up To This Girl

Would you please check out this amazing fat cat.  She looks like Jabba the Hut.

 

 

Giuly the fat cat lives in England.  Don't the crazy medical abnormalities always appear in the U.K.?  Lots of subjects on I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant seem to be in the U.K.  Just sayin'.

Dear Government Leaders: We've Discovered The Key To A Successful, Peaceful Relationship With The Middle East

When it comes to gimmicky chain restaurants in America, The Cheesecake Factory is a particularly fun target of ridicule in the snooty Preston House.  The absurdity of its portion sizes is eclipsed only by the ludicrousness of its sub-par yet vast menu selections, but perhaps not by the obesity of its clientele - myself included.

Don't get me wrong.  I love a good gimmicky American chain restaurant.  I could eat every meal at On The Border, if for no other reason than the fact that once, in an effort to control the jackal inside me that just eats whatever is in front of it, I ordered the three enchilada plate, but I wanted two of those enchiladas to be wrapped up in a to-go box.  Apparently overwhelmed by my request, the waiter brought me a to-go box with three enchiladas, a plate with another three enchiladas, and an enchilada on the side.

On Saturday night we were at a party with one of our favorite new couple friends in Philly who recently moved here from the Middle East.  According to the husband, a business associate of his was also a member of a Middle Eastern royal family, and became obsessed with The Cheesecake Factory on his most recent trip to America.  He had its food shipped to him anywhere he happened to be in the world whenever he wanted it, and also had an aching desire to execute a corporate takeover of the chain.  Because.  He.  Loved it.

So many choices!  It's like the perfect American dream was wrapped up in a pie crust and tied with a bow made of fettucini alfredo.  We can choose our leaders, we can choose our paths, and we can choose between the doner kebab and the barbecued pork sandwich.

I declared my weekend successful after appreciating the image of a multi-billionaire Arab prince at The Cheesecake Factory at the local mall, surrounded by high schoolers on prom night, pregnant rednecks about to get engaged, and obese citizens on scooters and oxygen.  The prince lusts after a giant pile of coconut shrimp and jalapeno poppers, his mouth watering through laminated page after laminated page of the endless menu, trying to decide between the fish tacos, the Hungarian goulash, the sushi, the spicy Hawaiian calzone and the alligator gumbo.  Save room for the Oreo-caramel cheesecake, y'all!

This:

Image Courtesy

Plus this:

Image Courtesy

Equals a dichotomy of confusion and awesomeness, represented by this firework question mark:

Image Courtesy

The Human Trapezoid

When I was being measured for my bridesmaid dress for Anna's wedding, my bust measurements equaled a size 2, but my hips?  A 10!  I am basically trapezoid-shaped.  I have never been and will never be a size 2 pending any major chronic gastrointestinal diseases and operative surgery for pelvic bone-shaving.

Another great way to lose weight and squeeze into those smaller sizes is to contract some sort of horrible infection.  I lost 5 pounds last week when I had pink eye.  Who knew a week of a weakened immune system was basically like taking 10 zumba classes?

Since I'm all better, I decided I had better get back to the gym this week; otherwise I will need to ingest a tapeworm to keep this up.  On Monday, within 30 seconds of being on the elliptical, I was pretty sure my heart was going to explode.  I decided 20 minutes of exercise was enough for this week. 

I'm going to be so good next week.  Two-a-days!  5 am wake-up calls!  This is basically what I'm going to look like after a couple of weeks of working out again and it's going to be so awesome:

There are really people at my gym who look like this.

It's Alive?

I almost choked on my rice krispie treat when I saw this picture.

Image Courtesy

Damn, girl! 

Look, Boys And Girls

This is what Mommy and Daddy have to eat for a few days after a long Labor Day weekend that involved mountains of food and absolutely nothing laborious whatsoever!

The walk to the gym is a long and torturous one.  En route, I pass by the following evil sorceresses:

3 bars
3 bakeries
1 taco place
1 pizza place
Rita's
1 Irish pub
1 Korean BBQ place
1 Japanese place
Monk's
1 restaurant devoted to nothing but chocolate
2 Italian places whose scents of tomato sauce and garlic bread whisper through the smog and bounce off the asphalt, into my happy awaiting lungs, swirling around for two amazing blocks
1 Applebee's

... Okay, so the Applebee's isn't really that tempting.

Indian Pole Gymnastics

After a lovely office function earlier filled with cake, brownies, soft drinks and candy, I didn't think my heart was beating fast enough, so I grabbed a couple of cookies and plopped myself down in front of a computer to catch up on all my YouTube videos involving other people doing athletic activities. 

This video reminds me of the pole "fitness" class I took back in March.  My friends and I were all snickering and sometimes making vulgar questionable gestures towards the pole, as one would expect to be permissible behavior in a class involving a pole.  Much to our surprise, the instructor was not as amused as we were.  Presumably, every other woman who rolls into the Flirty Girl Fitness gym has her game face on and is seriously ready to crush on her lats and biceps, while surrounded by feather boas with a disco ball overhead.  Pink glitter hula hoops = serious business.

It will be a while, but I think my 5-lb. weights will one day prepare me for pole fitness at this level.  I was entranced from start to finish by these incredible athletes!  The best is when you think they're going to fall.  It's a real sphincter tease.
   



Via OMG Blog.

Too Fat To Function

I have a new idea for a reality show and you have to promise not to steal it from me. It's called Fat People With Bad Attitudes because there is, apparently, nothing more watchable (or bankable) than a fat person with a bad attitude.

My favorite new fat person with a bad attitude on a docu-drama is Scotty from the Style network's Too Fat to Function Too Fat for Fifteen. Scotty's favorite activities include sitting around, complaining, hypochondria, and pissing off other students at Wellspring by somehow managing to lose weight without really trying. You will also find similarly amazing characters on Wife Swap (a true gem), The Biggest Loser (fantastic to watch during a big Chinese take-out dinner), and Celebrity Fit Club (where Dustin Diamond's career went to be euthanized).

Derrick and I have a hard time relating to the children on Too Fat for Fifteen, who have no energy or desire to move around. We both grew up in small Southern towns going for bike rides, climbing trees, and after running out of other activities, kicking a soccer ball against the outside brick wall of the house (and for me, occasionally and accidentally hitting Sandy H.'s French doors - oops).

Of course, as adults, we fully understand the merit of lying around motionless, watching crappy TV about fat people.

A few highlights from an amazing episode of Wife Swap:

This week I have done a fabulous job of retaining the two pounds I gained last week, which was the first week of the alcohol bender cleverly disguised as business school pre-term.  That can mean only one thing: last week, I consumed 7,000 unnecessary calories.  That is equivalent to eating all the food you would normally eat, plus a Krispy Kreme bacon cheeseburger a day:

Monday

Tuesday

Wednesday

Thursday

Friday

Saturday

Sunday

I suppose I went a little overboard on several occasions out of sheer excitement for these "networking" opportunities.  I love meeting new people and let's be realistic about my arithmetical tendencies:

Math in 1st grade looks like this:

1 drink = 1 glass of milk.

Math in my house looks like this:

1 drink = 3 glasses of wine.

I probably won't pull myself together in time to try on bridesmaids' dresses this weekend for Anna's wedding, but maybe I'll manage to lose these two pounds prior to her wedding circa May 2011.