Thanksgiving has happened and now we’re all fat because it’s America and no other country in the world has obese people or holidays that encourage excessive eating. Don’t worry we’re raising girls so conscious of their own bodies that only about 10% of them will love themselves enough to eat normal meals. But they will hate others enough to encourage strange coping mechanisms of their own.
Wait, I feel like I sound way too cynical for the amount of wine and stuffing currently in my belly. (I’m also watching Love, Actually so I want to punch love in the face. And I also just finished Gilmore Girls and Rory. Really? Rory. She’s like the Carrie for my generation.) Back to the point, the wine and the stuffing. The wine and the stuffing. I am also an American uncomfortable with my weight and I’m here to change that.
Many people have been shocked by my recent revelation that I want to lose .1 pounds. They shouldn’t be because I am a woman and so I’m always striving for that perfect weight and I feel like if I could just lose .1 pounds, I would feel happy and fulfilled. Right? Pre and post Thanksgiving my weight is the only thing I’m thinking about, besides the pleasure of others. I’m always most fulfilled when I can help others find the fullest versions of themselves. Seriously what can I do better to make you happy? Joking. I’m very pro-me and focused on my needs, especially in the boudoir. My mother always warned me that my selfishness would keep me single forever. Jokes on her. I have dog and a roommate and a cake. Also she’s dead (it’s funny because it’s true).
And what is that perfect weight? I like to think it’s two pounds under healthy, but usually declare it around Olsen size because I like to hear people say that it’s gross to be that skinny and hear behind the words, we also want that and we don’t know why (no offense to the Olsen twins. It’s not their fault society is obsessed with them. You got it, dude. God, I wish I was a twelve-year-old millionaire). I only hope that my weight can be a conversation piece for many people who are not I. Although as I get older and realize my body is the only thing keeping me away from death, I sometimes grow content with myself and try to do things to make it healthier. I would never say that aloud because I believe that it’s criminal to feel content with oneself or to run without the intent of running a race (honestly, I just like running because it’s like 30+ minutes when the world doesn’t bother me). If I ever showed an outward approval of self, the world would let me know everything that is wrong with me.
If not the world, then other women.
For example, I might think that I’ve reached my ideal weight, but eventually another woman would come along to let me know that I’m either too fat or too thin. Two seconds later a man will swoop in to let me know that his dick thinks I’m the perfect weight. Does he know how many calories are in a shot of semen? That’s why I never swallow. I’m on the paleo diet. If they could make energy out of female depression spurred on by outside judgement, there would be no need for alternative energy. Honestly, I think that I’m awesome until a handful of my friends tell me that we’re low-hanging fruit – I have literally had female friends call me (and themselves) low-hanging fruit. My only thought ‘then why am I in such a drought?” And also ‘please, bitch, do not drag me down by your own society-based neurosis. I’m cool with me.’ And I am cool with me. I am a garbage person who owns a garbage dog and we live fab garbage life. Suck on that, Elmo and you’re bourgeois sensibilities; Oscar and I are ruling this world.
But whatever, it’s post-Thanksgiving, I ate a lot of leftover Chinese and pie and mac n’stuff (see my previous post for this amazing recipe) and alcohol. We all feel gross. So yeah I’ve done some soul searching and some Fitbit tabulations and learned that the bottle of red I drink a night is not as calorie free as I thought. Also this isn’t a fruit juice situation where I can just get cal-free wine. Sorry Skinny Girl Bethenny Frankel, your Skinny girl wine tastes like wine after I get super drunk and acid reflux it up. So anyhoo to lose this .1 pound, I’ve decided that for one night I will not drink wine. It’s the easiest cal-cut I have. And here I present my diet diary.
8:00pm: I just ate a healthy dinner and I refuse to drink…
8:01pm: I like wine. I’m content with my weight and I took a hearty pee and added some distance to my run. Garbage life rules!