Jan 1, 2013, started out just like every other January 1st, which meant I woke up (probably hung over) and thought “this is IT, I’m going lose weight if it kills me”. Yeah yeah yeah…if I had a dollar for every time I’ve said that over the years, this post would be brought to you from my yacht in St. Tropez (it’s not). This time I REALLY wanted to do something and I wanted to stick with it, for once. So I went with a fresh approach and enlisted the help of my husband. What was my brilliant (read: jackass) idea, you ask? Here it is: I decided he and I should place a friendly wager. The term of the bet was, the first person to lose 10 pounds, got to name their prize. I’m well aware you are reading this and thinking “race pound for pound with a dude, is this bitch nuts?” believe it or not, it gets worse. He decided his victory would entail a week-long trip to pound town. You read that right, 7 consecutive days, of doin’ the deed. If I won? He was cut off for 30 days (and yes, I said thirty, don’t judge me). Maybe you think I'm an asshole and you are wondering how I could cut him off for a whole thirty days. The answer is, I wouldn't (don’t ever tell him that), it just means I would have had leverage for a few no-strings-attached foot rubs . Admittedly my jackass idea was enough to propel him to victory by doubling his motivation. He could have lots of sex or zero sex? You do the math.
Basically all he had to do was give up his gross Mountain Dew habit, while I ate twigs and berries and got my ass kicked by Jillian Michaels (that bitch). Actually I’m totally lying, because I was on a sugar cleanse, so the berries would have been a welcome treat. Thankfully, I ended up shedding a few pounds, but not nearly enough to keep from having to hold up my end of the bargain. I actually ended up liking it (the diet, not my bet debt) and I even took some of my friends down with me. I made them do the sugar cleanse, too. I’m not sure how we survived no sugar for two whole weeks, but we lived to tell the tale. In fact, it was pretty refreshing to have support from girls. Only another woman, would fully understand me when I say “I would DROP KICK A PUPPY for a cupcake right now!!!!!”.
Since January, I’ve managed to shed close to 25 lbs., which still shocks me sometimes. Although I must admit I do enjoy my new free time, since I no longer need plot the demise of the assholes that tag my Facebook page with a full body shot. Unfortunately, this summer threw me for a loop and a few of those pounds made their way back to my gut and ass (never the boobs, which is a total rip off). I indulged in a few too many Summer Shandys and I ate far too much other crap. Some days I need the jaws-of- life to squeeze into all my new jeans, so enough is enough! It’s time to get my happy ass to the grocery store to stock up on all of my no-carb necessities. I honestly contemplated going today, but then it hit me!!! I HAVE PMS!! FUCK NOOOOOOOOO I can’t give up sugar now!!!!!
I should have known I was in bitch mode, the second I opened my Facebook, and felt the urge to go postal on 97% of my newsfeed. There is one week a month I should just deactivate that shit. If I have to read one more person bitching about their newborn not sleeping I’m going to lose my mind. I’m sorry, did someone give you the impression those little nipple wreckers come out and give you hours of uninterrupted sleep? And, if one more person goes into explicit detail on what they are doing for the day, I might go straight over the edge. Gee, I sure am grateful to know that you are headed to Target, then the doctor’s office, and then home for dinner. All before shuffling the kids off to soccer practice, giving them baths, and then performing their two hour bedtime routine? What a scintillating tale. But don’t worry Facebook friends, I don’t ALWAYS feel this way (yes I do). My feelings just seem to peak once a month and I have this urge to call Mark Zuckerberg and request a job as the Mundane-Status Police (MSP for short) and get you all kicked off Facebook.
So yeah, THIS is the week I picked to do a sugar cleanse. I know you’re thinking “genius….you are an absolute genius (jackass)”, but the reality is, I do appreciate some good hormonal rage. I would be lying if I said I didn’t request that my friend (who shall remain nameless) get pregnant again JUST so she can trip the dude that cut in front of her at CVS, again (true story). There are so few times that being a bitch is publically excused. When you have PMS or you’re pregnant, you can’t be held accountable for your actions (can you?). It seems I'm faced with only two choices. I can either A). Beg my very best, hormonal raging friend, to procreate. Or B). Rock the shit out of this PMS/sugar cleanse and let my rage be the cherry on top of the shit sundae of dieting.
I will consider this blog, my good deed of the day. You have been warned.
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