Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Ode to doughnuts....

Oh frosted chocolate goodness, how I love thee, let me count the ways..... A friend of mine wrote a bog on her obsession with comfort food and the huge weight of guilt (and pounds) that ensues shortly after the all too short bliss of indulgence. It was inspiring to know that I'm not the only one who struggles so hard with the battle between gratification and the path less decadent....

My adoration of food goes far beyond the conventional, straight into all out stalking obsession with it. You ever seen a person stalk a french fry ? Hang out with me sometime.

What's that you say ? Do I realize I'm simply trying to use food to fill a void in my life, that somewhere deep in my soul I'm a food-aholic? Yep. I'm not in denial, my thighs exploding from a size 6 to a 12 hardly leave room for breathing let alone trying to hide the truth.

Compounding the problem? I'm lazy. Maybe it's the extra weight that keeps me so tired, or the depression from when I neatly packed up my self esteem and left it in a Taco Bell. Either way I have the motivation of million year old glacier. It seems the more I try to tell myself I can't eat that crap, the more I want it, until I find myself waking up in the night with the taste of chocolate doughnuts still on my tongue swatting at the sugar plum fairies swirling my head.

So here I go again, I'm eating better-ish and since I'm back in the office I've joined the gym to start working out. It's not like I'm huge, I'm an average sized girl, and I'm totally ok with the fact that I'm never going to be Paris Hilton (vomit) but I don't feel healthy, I have no energy anymore, and it would be nice to wear something besides a tshirt and board shorts to swim in.

I'm lucky enough to have a gf who could care less about my weight, in fact, I think she likes me a little chunky since my chest overfloweth. Victoria can't even keep those things secret anymore. But I would like to be able to fit into my old work clothes again, and keep up with my daughter who can just about out run me (in my defense it's not all weight, I run like a baby giraffe with a gimp leg too) and most of all I'm tired of being tired.

So raise a cup of V-8 and lets toast to me trying to get on the healthy bandwagon and not fall off every time it passes a Taco Bell.

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