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The Hunger Calls


It is a time for new resolutions. Paying off debt, losing weight, being kinder- that sort of thing. Lucky for me, I’ve come to realize that New Year’s Resolutions are bullshit, so I don’t have to do any of those things previously mentioned. HA

Sadly, my credit cards are pretty much maxed out, so I do  desire to pay off my debt. Buuuut, I also desire to go to Rocklahoma, and hang out with all of my favorite bands. I also desire to buy (what many people would consider) unnecessary decorative items for my home. So I don’t know if I’m going to pay off debt this year or not, ok?

I am also of the age where my weight doesn’t much bother me anymore; though I do, at times, want to be an uber-hot mama that people gawk at. Fortunately, DDD boobs and a penchant for brightly-colored duds can accomplish pretty much the same thing.

However, my best friend is getting married in the end of February, and asked me last year to be one of her bridesmaids. Note, I said she asked me last year. Which means I had over 365 in which to shed the 65 or so pounds that would inhibit me from being one of the sexiest bridesmaids that ever lived. (Hey, just dream with me here.)

As if being on the chubby side wasn’t enough,  her other bridesmaids could fit into a pair of my pants all at once. Dammit.

Now my bestie has always been quick to argue when I’ve been down on myself, so my fears of looking like a heifer in wedding pictures have naught to do with her. In fact, my girl even let us pick our own dresses- to let us show off our own personal style and not have us despise her for picking something we all look like shit it.

No, my insecurities are all of my own making.

So like any normal person, of course I took that year I had to slim down and buff up.

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Just kidding.

Knowing myself as I know myself, I bought my dress (from China) in the size that I was at the time I bought it. Last year. And now, less than two months away from the wedding, I’m exactly (or maybe a tad bit more) the weight I was then.

It had been over nine months since I tried my dress on initially when I took it to the alterations lady a few weeks ago to get the tail bustled. After much sucking in and pulling back, it zipped, but just. After she measured for straps to hold up the busooms, I was thinking that, HEY! I look pretty good! (Yeah, ok, so I had to have her take my socks off because it was too tight to bend down. Shut up.)

Sadly, the next day, my neck and shoulders were completely jacked up from sucking in and bunching up. So, instead of being the super-sensuous bridesmaid I imagined in my head, I’ve settled for being able to sit during dinner and still being able to breathe, and maybe avoiding my armpit fat from photobombing the wedding party.

The thing I’ve discovered, though, is that the will power that once made me only eat three saltine crackers and a grape each day back in ninth grade has gone on permanent vacation. The simple fact that I’m trying (ok, not really) to lose weight makes me completely ravenous, to the point that I want to eat every single order of boneless wings that I serve to a table. (GAAWWWWWD, boneless wings sound amazing right now….)

I’ve told myself for the month of January, I will focus on eating less, and worry about shaping up in February. Unfortunately, since my daily diet rivals that of an African elephant, I’ve got quite a bit of cutting down to do.

To help keep my stomach from crying aloud with his own voice, (which I imagine sounds very like Boris Karloff) I’ve taken to drinking copious amounts of coffee mixed with way too many pink packets. Coffee is supposed to speed up your metabolism, they say. What they don’t say, is that coffee makes you pee like you’ve been drinking booze for seven days straight. And it probably doesn’t help that the sleep I’m supposed to be getting to help me trim down is interrupted by caffeine.

I just…. I just want to be skinny like I was when I thought I was fat.

(On the plus side, whenever I’ve shown a picture of me in my dress to anyone, their first reaction has always been, “Geez, your boobs look huge!” )

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