My baby boy turned a year old on Monday! Where has the time gone?! What a handsome man he’s become, too. You know, he still looks like this to me. I can’t understand why folks are apprehensive of him; he’s just a 3-week old baby (who happens to be hip-high and rock solid).
My life right now is hectic, to say the least. In the past 2 weeks:
- My relationship has ended and has dissolved (evolved?) into a very bizarre and complex hybrid of friendship and fornication (am I a college freshman?).
- Because of the above, I’ve been trying to find an apartment in a neighborhood where I might not get murdered that accepts Dobermans for less than $8 million a month.
- I’ve been shuffling myself and my dog (and his ginormous crate and heavy-ass dog food) back and forth from a friend’s house to my house.
- The number on my bathroom scale has steadily risen and I’m now fully in the Fat-Ass Red Zone.
- I’ve been eating garbage and drinking too much.
- I have a job. ‘Nuf said.
I’ve been neglecting a lot, too (including Kane’s birthday, sorry about that Bubba—even though you have no idea what a birthday is). But no more. I’m done. It’s time to regain the number one position on my own priority list. It’s time to re-establish my routine and to give a damn about what I shove in my mouth. I may not be able to control the other disasters, but I can fix the food and exercise thing. I know how to do this. I know how to lose weight. I know calories in, calories out. I know how to push myself and how to restrain myself. I know how to nourish my body and how to satisfy my mind without peanut butter and penne with vodka sauce. So what the hell is my deal lately?
I think my problem is twofold: 1. Kane (the only man for me, I think) doesn’t care how fat I get as long as there’s still room for him in my bed and I can throw a ball for him; and 2. I can’t see myself dating again for a very, very long time, so what’s the point?
The last time I dropped a ton of weight it was because I wanted a boyfriend, great sex, and new clothes. I got tunnel vision and made it happen. But I didn’t have any friends then, I didn’t have a dog, and I had nothing but time to devote to making a hot body happen. That’s not so now. How do REAL people lose weight? Seriously, how?
Brainwashing myself into a lifestyle of perfect eating and impeccable exercise is exhausting, but I think that’s what I’m going to have to do again. So long, world. You won’t see me for a while. I’ll be in a tiny apartment somewhere in the ghetto eating boiled egg whites and wondering what Kane would taste like marinated and grilled. It’ll be worth it, I know. I’m just not sure why yet.
Maybe Kane and Giuseppe can have a play date at the park soon, or the beach.
He would love that! He’s much less humpy now, since his “surgery.” It’s much more pleasant for everyone.
You can do it! I have tried to follow Kate Moss’s motto (which is probably a very unhealthy way to think): “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.” I think about how unhappy I was being fat, so I just eat little bits of stuff I like. Even if it is bad for me, I only eat half instead of the whole thing. Courtney, you are hot and beautiful no matter what size!
I do that all the time! “Would Kate Moss eat this?” It’s a trick question though, because she wouldn’t eat anything. Other tricks:
— If Jillian Michaels walked in the room and saw me eating/doing this, would she punch me?
— If this were to literally show up on my thighs/ass, would I be embarrassed? (Imagine: fish tacos glued to your inner thighs. Not cute)
— I am awesome and gorgeous. Is this [brownie/handful of chocolate chips/huge bowl of cereal with vanilla soymilk/platter of cheese fries] conducive to me being awesome and gorgeous? Probably not.