you say you want a resolution
You know what I did over the holidays? Over my break from this journal and my break from work and school? You'll never guess! Unless you guessed "got wicked fat, man." Because that is what I did. Also, I took up smoking. I know! I never claimed to be bright.
So all through most of November
(Thanksgiving, you know. Time off from work equals time off from the gym because the gym is at work and getting on a bus to go to the gym at work on my holiday? That's madness! That's craziness! That's the pumpkin pie talking. Please pass the bottle of wine, some figgy pudding, and also a ham. Thank you)
and then all through December
(Hannukwaanzamas and the New Year and the parties and the pie and the more pie and the pudding and the wine and the cookies and the cake, none of which I could turn down because what if I never not ever ever again got offered another chocolate chip cookie after I turned this one down and spent the rest of my life regretting that moment until I withered away and finally died, bereft, friendless, cookieless, strapped to a bed in a roach-addled nursing home? Then I'd be sorry. Also, the gym closed for the week between Christmas and New Year's day and what was I supposed to do? Go outside and walk or something! You are a very funny person. Now pass me a ham)
what I did was eat everything that made me happy, and what I drank was everything that made me happy, and what I did was sit on my butt.
That is not a "winning weight loss equation." It's a "wow, this is totally the fucking life, man! equation," but apparently the answer to "the fucking life" is "gaining ten pounds, or something like it." I am not sure exactly how much I gained, but I have a shadow under my chin that is totally not a double chin or anything and if you press the issue, I am going to goddamn cry.
But the whole time, I can defend myself, I said "self! You are doing these bad things to yourself. But come the New Year, all in initial caps like that, you're cutting this shit out." And I said sir yes sir! and took a drag of my cigarette and washed down a bonbon with a bottle of wine and then injected pure heroin right into my eyeball.
That's not much of a defense, really, now that I think about it.
And yet, here it is, eight days into the new year, and I am a living cliche of New Year Resolutionisticalness. I have not placed a cigarette to my lips, and I am five days in on kicking my own ass at the gym every work day. The weight loss setting on the Precor is a motherfucker, let me tell you.
As for the bonbons (and ham and pudding and ham pudding and etcetera) – a couple things at a time, okay?
So all through most of November
(Thanksgiving, you know. Time off from work equals time off from the gym because the gym is at work and getting on a bus to go to the gym at work on my holiday? That's madness! That's craziness! That's the pumpkin pie talking. Please pass the bottle of wine, some figgy pudding, and also a ham. Thank you)
and then all through December
(Hannukwaanzamas and the New Year and the parties and the pie and the more pie and the pudding and the wine and the cookies and the cake, none of which I could turn down because what if I never not ever ever again got offered another chocolate chip cookie after I turned this one down and spent the rest of my life regretting that moment until I withered away and finally died, bereft, friendless, cookieless, strapped to a bed in a roach-addled nursing home? Then I'd be sorry. Also, the gym closed for the week between Christmas and New Year's day and what was I supposed to do? Go outside and walk or something! You are a very funny person. Now pass me a ham)
what I did was eat everything that made me happy, and what I drank was everything that made me happy, and what I did was sit on my butt.
That is not a "winning weight loss equation." It's a "wow, this is totally the fucking life, man! equation," but apparently the answer to "the fucking life" is "gaining ten pounds, or something like it." I am not sure exactly how much I gained, but I have a shadow under my chin that is totally not a double chin or anything and if you press the issue, I am going to goddamn cry.
But the whole time, I can defend myself, I said "self! You are doing these bad things to yourself. But come the New Year, all in initial caps like that, you're cutting this shit out." And I said sir yes sir! and took a drag of my cigarette and washed down a bonbon with a bottle of wine and then injected pure heroin right into my eyeball.
That's not much of a defense, really, now that I think about it.
And yet, here it is, eight days into the new year, and I am a living cliche of New Year Resolutionisticalness. I have not placed a cigarette to my lips, and I am five days in on kicking my own ass at the gym every work day. The weight loss setting on the Precor is a motherfucker, let me tell you.
As for the bonbons (and ham and pudding and ham pudding and etcetera) – a couple things at a time, okay?
This entry was posted by anne, on
Saturday, January 08, 2005.
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