LIES!!! LIES!!!! That thing in my bathroom is an evil lying little bastard! If it weren't for the fact that it is the only other thing with an actual human voice in my house, I would chuck it out the window and end its evil ways. In its malicious attempt to drive my already depressingly low morale into a pit so deep I may never recover, this foul-mouthed little machine has now informed me that I can include a fifteen pound weight gain to my hit-me-while-I-am-down list. No wonder everything in my closet no longer fits me. I think the two are in cahoots and are trying to gaslight me into thinking that I really have gained all this weight.
How could I? I only turned 40, made a major career change, lost 2/3 of my prior income but retained 100% of my prior debts, and increased my Hoho intake to nearly double its normal dietary allotment. I mean, none of these things should have any impact on my apparently-now-the-size-of-Texas ass, right?
Good grief this means I am going to have to say those two wretched-evil-foul-sounding words: Diet & Exercise. What the hell is my world coming to!! I mean, I can handle the career change. I love teaching even if it is THE MOST over-worked and under-paid profession in the world. (I swear to GAWD, if one more person tells me my job is easy because I get summers and holidays off, I am going to have to "enlighten" them about the REAL meaning of teaching.) I can handle the massive loss of income and recovering from being unemployed for almost a year. So what if I no longer have any retirement, my savings is gone, the IRS wants my first born child, and I am having to declare bankruptcy? I count myself lucky to HAVE a job and that it is a career I LOVE! Most people these days don't even have one of those two. But to add diet and exercise to the list? That's hitting below the belt.
Now this damnable digital devil has told me that my life as a Barbie is over. My youth has passed and my ass has become my personal Dorian Grey; taking toll for my indulgent sins. Damn you, Hostess for making such sweet chocolate and cream-spread rolls. Damn you for becoming my enabler and the pimp of my decadent escapes from the hounds of hell that has been this year. Now my sweet-sweet days of being able to inhale an entire thin crust pizza, three cokes and two pudding cups all in one sitting without anything to show for it are over. I mourn the loss of my metabolism and do not go quietly into this good night. (Why the hell is liposuction NOT covered through my insurance?)
Damn you thin celebrities for making me feel less than beautiful if I am not emaciated and malnourished. Goodbye my sacchariferous Hoho love. Our time was a delicious descent into cellulite and debauchery, but now must end. I must feign a new adoration for such unpalatable cellulose as celery and lettuce....
Oh screw the flowery goodbyes. Dude, this just sucks!!! I'm off to haul my newly formed ba-donka-donk butt into the gym before I suck down another two pound leftover Easter bunny in a fit of despair. And if you don't think I won't be bitching about dieting and working out, you obviously have not been reading Lisa-tastrophies for long.