No Control

I literally had no idea what I was going to write about when I opened this up but just said to my husband, "When I'm stressed, I have no control."  And there you have it; a spur of the moment topic sentence.


There is great truth behind this statement.  I was referring to food.  We have been watching what we eat as well as using a new product to lose weight.  It's going fairly well.  My husband is down 23 pounds and I was down 11. Again, with his penis, he can think really hard about losing weight and it melts away. My vagina prefers that my body hold on to every last roll until the last possible minute.  Although I can't blame it all on her.  My mouth is somewhat to blame as well.


I was doing so well.  The new product we are taking had almost shut down my sugar cravings. No snacking in the evenings because I simply didn't want to.  Then Christmas hit.  Christmas is stressful at the best of times but this past one I did not have enough money, I did not have enough available family, my husband had to work and there is food everywhere.  Why? Because I bought it.


Enough is a relative term.  Christmas was fine.  The kids were happy, I spent Christmas Day with my husband and kids and then with great friends, my husband did work but this allowed him to be home for Boxing Day which we spent with his family.  The food though?  The food was still here.


I often jokingly refer to myself as a 'food addict'. And in some ways I am.  I fell off the wagon and dammit if I can't get back on!  Sugar is my lover.  Junk food in general is my mistress...is there a male equivalent to that word?  Anyway, I like it.  I am also lazy.  I do not really enjoy cooking all that much.  I enjoy vegetables less.  I don't like anything that requires more than me opening a package, can, my mouth.


Sigh. That last part sounded dirty.  It wasn't supposed to but because I'm juvenile and it makes me snicker a little, I'm leaving it.


So anyway, I am back on the program. Sort of.  With the exception of Saturday night where I force fed myself roughly 12 mini peanut butter cups chased with mini pretzels.  This was while I was watching Betty White's 90th Birthday Celebration.  Yes, my weekends are wild.


Then Sunday, I thought that's enough.  Time to get my shit together.  Except there are still peanut butter cups in the house.  And pretzels.  And popcorn twists.  And salt 'n vinegar chips at Stacey's house.


So I weighed myself Monday morning.  Just to see what the damage was.  And yup, sure as shit, back up a pound and a half.  No, not horrible but entirely preventable.


The point of this entire post is, I have zero coping skills.  Wait, that's a LIE.  My coping skills are food, bitching and alcohol and not necessarily in that order.  Although my friend Vodka has not been nearly has prominent of a figure as she once was. Fickle girl.


So instead I make trips to Wal-Mart for toilet paper and come home with $10 worth of back fat.  


No. Control.


A friend of mine's mother once said to her life is all about choices.  I couldn't agree more.  Why I continually make the same choices is beyond me.  I do believe that's the definition of insanity...Great.  I'm a crazy bitch with back fat.  Granted, less than before but if I don't get it together, it's going to come creeping back and pretty soon I'll be able to keep my keys, lip balm and such in the handy folds on my back instead of in my purse.


Today is a new day.  I'm starting it off right.  Did just receive some unsettling news about my cell phone bill but I will not cope with food!  I will bitch instead.  Bitchy girls are not fun but are generally thin, so there.  Problem solved!


Glad we got that worked out, now carry on.