The dreaded half marathon!

Ya, I've talked about it before, but now my sister is making me do it with her.  Now I know I said I wanted to do it, but to a 200+ lbs chick with asthma, 13 miles is pretty daunting! So naturally I'm terrified. (and also terrified that I keep revealing my weight on the internet!) So I have no choice...5 months to train.  It's pretty expensive to sign up so I can't back out, I've no choice now. It's sink or swim...or, run or look like an ass while wasting 130 bucks. I choose run. Perhaps in the process I'll shave some lbs off my frame, and hey, I may be able to eat a lot whilst still training! That's a plus! Ok, so realistically it's probably not the "eating more" that I'm looking for but, I'll take what I can get.
Last week I made a bet with my husband, I would work out three days that week and if I didn't I had to do "something" unpleasant.(Maybe stop reading Dad) There is really no better motivator than shaking on that kind of a bet. I won't go into details, but it's something I really hate doing. In fact most girls actually do. Men, if you love us, please don't EVER make us do this not so nice thing!(Use imagination now) Needless to say, I worked out only two days, but please, don't tell him as he seems to have forgotten the whole deal! Sucker! But this leads me to my current plight; Now I have to work out consistently. Refer to paragraph 1, si vous plait. I have to continue to make deals with the Devil, aka my husband, in order to motivate myself to work-out. Why do I do these things to myself? It's like fat kid Russian Roulette!
So I'm starting my "training" this week, which consists of running two miles (it's a fucking start, ok?) three days a week. Today I should have gone to the gym after work but I ended up coming home to spend time with my husband instead (you know, since he's joining the military and all here pretty soon, and we really don't get all that much time together anyway) But we've just been fighting, and sitting at our respective computers all night. Should have gone to the gym, at least I would have felt better about myself. Such is life...You know it is Sunday, start of a new week! Too bad I had two ice cream sandwiches after dinner....fail.

*stay tuned folks, you know this training shit is going to be funny!

Damn you Del Taco!

So I went out of town this week, visiting my family, and God love them they spoil us all rotten! I mean, it's like we walk in the door and we all must look emaciated to them because everyone wants to feed us! Del Taco for breakfast here, BBQ dinner with cookies and cupcakes there, prime rib dinner the next night.  Now my husband and kid are tall and skinny (kid is two and almost as tall as me! ...God...? Why are fat people short too?) so they can eat all the bad crap they want and I gain all the weight! Yea! Can I slit my wrists now!?! So it doesn't matter to them what they eat. And I tried like hell to be a good little soldier and say no thank you, I'm fine, I had my 90 calorie fiber bar and green tea. But I just ended up charging after my brother like a bull seeing red as he headed out the door to get everyone breakfast! "Wait brother! I changed my mind!!!!" ...Shit... So much for eating well and maintaining control while traveling.

Don't even ask me about working out! I even brought work-out clothes, didn't use them at all!! Looks like once a week is my max, but really who needs it? Working in a hospital everyday I see healthy bastards dying right next to the fat ones so it doesn't really matter now does it? I mean, we are all going to die anyway, so why not eat crap all day? Fuck exercising! Go sky dive and bungee jump if you want! I mean, I won't ever do that crap, there's probably not a harness that can safely hold my fat ass anyway, but, you know, you go right ahead! Life is too short to diet! It's too short to work out like a freaking animal! I mean I will still try to get skinny but like maybe I'll occasionally flirt with sloth and gluttony. Or just not eat for a week? Who knows!

Sunday, Sunday,Sunday!

I like to pretend that at the beginning of each new week, I have again a new opportunity to eat better and work out more than the last week. This being Sunday and all I get a clean slate, which negates all the naughty fat kid stuff I did the last seven days.  Oh internet, I was such a naughty girl last week, hell, last month! I don't know why but I find comfort in the fact that as I sit in front of the T.V. Saturday night stuffing my face with pizza (a personal fat chick fav btw...) that all of this will mean nothing as I fully plan on eating nothing but a granola bar and a handful of grapes tomorrow. That should set the balance right, right? What a sick and twisted world I live in! Seriously, how on earth did I end up fat? (Note the heavy sarcasm)

I blame my mirrors somewhat too.  For whatever reason I don't look that fat in them...It is not until I catch a glimpse of myself in a window as I pass, or see myself in photos that I truly gasp "Eek! Is that me? I AM fat!!"  Then my whole day is ruined, whole fucking day. Then I go home and gorge myself on the pity cookies I just bought, to make the bad feelings go away. Then I go look into my mirror and tell myself "It's not that bad, see?" Warm fuzzies are back, and the day is bright again.

But all of this is beside the point (I'm really good at going of into random tangents folks). Today is Sunday, and after a bad, naughty week, I'm promising myself, no fast food, no late night pizza parties pour une, no sneaking into my son's animal cookies for a sugar fix, and certainly I'm going to the gym more than once! Hell maybe I'll go three times! Down girl, baby steps, remember....Yea Sunday!!

Run fat girl, Run!

I run. How weird is that? And not just to a box of cookies either! Like real honest to goodness run! I ran my first 5k last summer with my family. Didn't do too bad either, for no training that is! I mean I was practically being pulled to the finish line by my sister but hell, I finished right? And you know what? It was a pretty un-fucking-believable feeling too. Or maybe that was my asthma? True fat kids have atshma!!!

So I decided to start training for a half marathon in December after that. Needless to say, it didn't happen and I haven't been exactly "consistent" in my efforts  to train since.  A day here, a day there once a month ect...So yesterday I decided that since I was awaken by a toddler...again...instead of reaching for a box of doughnuts (of which there were none left anyway remember?) perhaps I should go for a run. Nothing too serious, just a casual jog around the neighborhood. It was actually pretty invigorating; clean, crisp air in my lungs, all my wobbly parts working synonymously to project my massive mass forward...sigh...good times. That is until I woke up this morning and hurt from head to toe. The kind of hurt where every step is pain;where breathing too deep kills your abs kinda burn. Ya...awesome! No I really mean it! There is some sort of sick satisfaction that I get from that. Freaking masochist that I am! But I digress, as usual!

The plan is to do the 5k again in September, it was truly a blast. The whole out of shape family decided that we are glutton for punishment and are going to partake in the festivities again, and perhaps actually all  do the Las Vegas half marathon in December! Yikes! But  for a fat person there could be no better feeling, short of becoming un-fat, than accomplishing something like that! Hey! My ass may even look smaller after all that training! Ya, you're right...wishful thinking, remember my last blog about doughnuts? I kinda like to eat! And running (even once a month!) makes me hella hungry! But I will begin (or is that resume?) my training efforts this week! I am, in some sick and twisted, way really bound and determined to run a half marathon, I mean, eventually! So, stay tuned kiddies!

                                                                 Guess which one is me!
                                                                    (hint, the fat one!)

Mmmmm...doughnuts.....

My son wakes me up at a quarter to seven this morning making that seriously annoying "pop" noise with his mouth.  After having a tumultuous night that included very little sleep due to a screaming toddler and a  mommyfied nervous breakdown, my first thought apon being rudely awoken were not "I'm just going to ignore this and try to go back to bed." No. They were: "Hmmm, I have a half a bag of mini frosted chocolate doughnuts in the cabinet right now." Oh ya. Those bad boys were practically singing to me! Sleep? Who needs it! Mama has a hankering for some sugar! And not the calorie free kind I can get from the Hub...


Let's back-peddle a bit here. This being the premiere "Angry fat chick" post and all. I have always been a bit heavier. As far back as I can remember, I was the essential fat kid. You know, the one you see in every movie about young kids doing crazy things, a la "The Sandlot", "Stand by me", "Goonies", you get the picture, right? Ya, I'm the Chunk, literally. I've never really been ok with this, but as a fat kid I accepted my role and played it well. It's true to the stereotype, I'm pretty funny. As a fat kid you have to be. That's the gift God gives you for the big joke of your crappy metabolism. But my fat-ness wasn't quite as bad (at least in my own mind) until after the birth of my son. Oh ya, gained 70 lbs form that little bundle of joy. And as much as I would like to blame him, little angel that he is, he did not threaten to eat me from the inside out if I didn't feed him  2.5 McMuffins daily. Oh ya, McDonald's knew me by name and star sign! While I lost a little over 30 lbs in the two years post-birth, I am still at my fattest ever. I'm not even sure of how it's humanly possible for me to eat enough calories in a day to maintain this more "fluffy" version of myself, which I guess points me back to the doughnuts in the cabinet....

I had a hell of a sweet tooth at the grocery store yesterday. No bueno folks! NEVER a good idea to go to a place where the first thing you see when you walk in the door is frosted chocolate doughnuts! And people wonder why Americans are fat! Well, against my better judgment (the inner skinny chick in my head begging me to put the doughnuts down) I put them in my cart. Along with some mini cherry pies (they were on sale for .53 cents!), a quart of vanilla ice cream, and a box of m&m cookies. Today all that remains of that sugar coated calorie fest are the pies. Yup, and I wonder why and how I got to weigh in at 215 lbs....FML!!!!