Operation Mini-Skirt: -48.4 lbs.
Mental State: Gah.
There are two sides to every coin.
On the one hand, yes, I went home on Friday night convinced that it was my job to shove as much food into my mouth as possible, all in the name of those starving children in Africa. It's what happens when I hit a milestone. "Oh, I lost fifty-one pounds! I can afford a little celebration! Sure, why not?" Two point six pounds of celebration later... Gah. I think back and... shudder. It was TV Movie of the Week time. Just... gross. I don't think I bothered to chew. It was just a matter of shove-in-mouth, repeat-all-evening. Seriously, it was the kind of behavior that's usually observed by a team of doctors from behind a two-way mirror.
However, I'm not a complete failure. I know that part of this horrible gain probably has to do with the fact that there are certain biological occurrences - the kind that are vital to having a good day - that are not... occurring... lately. I'm not going to go any further... but it's enough to say that I'm. Getting. Crabby. But I digress.
To ease the Day-After Guilt I suffered, I launched Operation: Keep Things in Perspective. The first mission? The purchase of a pair of pants. Size 10, my beauties! Size bloody ten! When I started the Nazi Diet from Hell, I was bulging out of a 16. I'm now sitting pretty in a size 10. TEN! I don't think I've worn a ten since I WAS ten! Man, I stood in front of that three-way mirror, and stared, and stared, and stared. I felt around for my butt and it just wasn't there! I bent forwards, from my waist and from my knees, my hands cupping my bottom as I did a little Norma-Jean kind of wiggle, watching for the move that made it all look fat and gross... and it didn't happen! Oblivious to the spectators that were starting to surround me, I kept up my little Size Ten Dance of Joy, rubbing the butt that wasn't there and reveling in the knowledge that I looked pretty darn hot. In khakis! That's the best part! I didn't have to don The Hottie Dress of Greatness and Light to look hot. I was heating up the room in a pair of khakis! Flat front khakis, at that!
So now I've got a new short-term goal. I gained 2.6, so I'm going to try to shed 3.6 by Wednesday. If it can be gained in three hours, it can certainly be lost in two days. It WILL be done... especially if I drink loads of water and try this new recipe that was given to me. It's called... I kid you not here... Poopy Muffins. Oh, no, you really did read that right. Poopy. Muffins.
2 egg whites, whipped
1 tsp. liquid sweetener
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
4 tbsp. natural bran
1/4 apple, chopped
Spray 4 tea/coffee cups with Pam
Portion equally
Microwave for 3 minutes, flip out onto paper towel, let cool.
Now, coming from a house where cakes are made from scratch, and holiday days are taken from work to prepare baked goods for the holidays, you'll have to understand that I'm not usually keen to indulge in a microwavable treat! But people? If this works like it's supposed to, I'm all for it. I'll eat if for breakfast, lunch and dinner if I have to. I will hail it as the Poopy Muffin of Vitality. I will honour it with the first card in my mother's recipe box, to which will be affixed a Purple Heart for Service Beyond the Call of Doody. If the Queen should ever favour me with a visit, I will serve Her Royal Highness with The Royal Poopy Muffin, and I'm telling you, she'll probably make a Lady out of me for it! The Poopy Muffin, ladies and gentlemen. God, I hope it works. I've got high hopes. When you've got nothing else, you've got to cling to hope.
Have a lovely day, all. I know it was perhaps a tad too much information, but if you're still reading, I congratulate you heartily. And apologise deeply.
0 comments so far