Man, I’m in a sour mood. Usually when I’m in a bad mood, I just eat something delicious. Works every time. Unfortunately, I’ve committed to a 365 Project where I work out for at least 20 minutes every day and as a result, I’m starting to kind of like not being fat and miserable and so I don’t have any junk food in the house anymore. The idea is that if I want junk food, I have to go to the store and get some, which isn’t going to happen because I’m innately lazy. I’ve outfoxed my fat self.
Even if I did want to solve my bad mood by going to get a pepperoni roll or a belgian waffle with ice cream or a pint of Ben and Jerry’s, it’s too darn cold outside. I don’t know about you folks in warm, happy climates but I’m here on the three rivers in Pittsburgh and yesterday my walk to the bus stop was so tear-inducing that I genuinely wondered why people haven’t made ski masks more fashionable by now. Because I bloody well need one. It is face-shattering cold.
This cold has accumulated on the outside of my rear bedroom in the form of a colony of man-sized icicles that are melting and refreezing and saturating my crappily-crafted walls with water. Thus, the wall is leaking. It’s crying large tears of cold sadness along with me. And though I called my landlord and two maintenance guys stopped by, I’ve been assured there’s nothing they can (read: want to) do. Since the ceiling in my bathroom fell on my head two years ago for similar wall-crying-related reasons, I’m going to go ahead and guess that the bedroom ceiling will also fall on my head shortly.
Also, a commercial offering litigation for problems related to vaginal mesh transplants just came on television and I’m not really a fan of the terms “vaginal” and “mesh” squished beside each other like that. It’s uncomfortable.
So I’m a little grumpy. And I’d like to take a moment to share my grump with you in the hopes that it will suck the devil out of me like The Exorcist and I will no longer crave happiness or cake. You know, before the ceiling falls on my head and I die and I’ve missed my chance. I’d hate to be lying in my grave, thinking about how I could have died happy if I would have only publicly ranted about my case of the grumples.
Actually, I feel significantly better already. Maybe I should just start blogging when I want junk food.
On second thought, that would get real spammy real fast.
So I guess I’m due for an update on the 365 Project. As I’ve already mentioned in previous posts (and at the beginning of this one), I’m in the midst of a project I’ve lovingly dubbed Project Fat Ass 365, wherein I have resolved to do one health/exercise related activity every single day for at least twenty minutes. I’ve begun with the Jillian Michaels 30 Day Shred and have already hit the 160’s.
To understand how monumental that is, you should know that I’ve only been in the 160’s two times in my life: when I was a vegetarian and when I had a terrible case of mono. Unfortunately, I’ve been unable to live my life without cheeseburgers or a balanced amount of white blood cells ever since and have been hovering in the 180’s forever.
Now, that’s not to say that I’ve gone from the 180’s to the 160’s since just the beginning of January. As long time jackieblog subscribers know, I began trying to get super cereal about my health back in October of 2011 when my vagina doctor told me I needed to lose weight. Apparently for the health of my vagina. That’s right: my BMI was so high that my lady bits doctor told me to lose weight. If that doesn’t get you moving, I don’t know what will. I’ve been working to slowly improve my diet and exercise habits ever since. So that 20 pounds has been a long and somewhat yo-yo-like journey. Luckily I’ve set myself for absolute success (or absolute embarrassment) this year by attempting this 365 and announcing that I’ll be running a 10K in the fall.
I only have to announce it, right? I don’t actually have to do it.
Just kidding. I’ve already invited my family to come heckle and loudly mock me from the sidelines to ensure I finish. And they shall. I was pretty tempted to invite my readers to form a team with me to help raise money for the dwindling populations of honeybees but as you all know by now, that’s a panic attack waiting to happen. I can’t handle meeting that many new people. I would stay in my apartment the morning of the race, perpetually projectile vomiting my anxiety into my toilet.
Which, on second thought, would probably help me shed as many pounds as a 10K.
At any rate, things are going quite well on the fat front, thanks for asking. It’s still not too late to join in on a 365 (you can start any time, y’all). All you have to do is think of the kind of person you would like to be in a year and then pick one thing related to that goal that you can do every single day that will get you closer to that person in a year. And then, you know, do it. Like I am. Listen: if I can blog instead of eating when I’m grumpy and if I can exercise for 20 minutes every day instead of cracking jokes about how I’m not the kind of person who can exercise every day, you can do whatever it is that you’re actively avoiding as well. And then in a year we can all celebrate our new, improved selves.
But not together in the same place, because that will make me projectile vomit.
All right, that’s my last plug for 365s. I’ll stop badgering you for a while. But only a while.
To our faces not cracking, our walls not weeping, and our fat mitts not reaching for cake.
Puppies and Sprinkles,