So here I am, three weeks in to this plateau. My first since starting my goddamned diet. I knew eventually it would come, a brick wall of failure that I know so well. I didn't plan terribly well for it but here it is nonetheless. My body simply refuses at this time to break the 27 pound barrier. Believe me when I tell you I have checked. I have gotten on the scale at every conceivable hour of the day and night to check and see if it will bump, even momentarily, to the magic 28 pound, 112 sticks of butter mark. No such luck.
I'm convinced the neighbors can hear me at 2:00 a.m. when I'm calling out to the scale like a gambler...."come 'on babaaay...mama needs a new pair of draws'!" and the ensuing string of profanity. I'm frustrated and in danger of giving up. Not really, so calm down you manufacturers of Funyuns. I know your sales have drooped but I'm not ready to jump back on your powdery onion like pseudo substance bandwagon. I've still got a few surprises up my draws' (if you will forgive the rather disturbing inadvertent visual) I may actually pull out Leslie Sansones Walk-Fit and risk ending up in the unit for observation because no one can possibly be that uncoordinated........well.........yes..........this is me we're talking about here......they really can be.
My sister Jennifer warned me that a plateau was inevitable. She has a way of seeing the bump in the road long before I stumble head over heels into it coming to a sliding stop on the right side of my face as my ass continues it's forward momentum. It's a gift she has. I don't actually think she has the power to see her own pit falls but is excellent at warning others. Every now and again I'll find her. "What are you doing down there Jen!?"........"Oh......just sitting for a minute" "You plan on climbin' outta there?" "Yeah.......eventually"....."Alrighty then....see ya" She is an amazing advocate to have, even if she does fall down and go boom just like the rest of us.
To give you an example: Today she sent me a photo of my wide load ass that she took at my nieces wedding back in July. There is the beautiful scenic overlook and vast sky and me leaning over the railing, my giant ass gleaming in the sun like a Humpback whale surfacing to breathe. Only Jennifer would take my picture like that as a way to document the effect of funyuns and Heath bar ice cream on a person's ass. I knew what she meant by it and laughed out loud at the picture. She was saying "Don't give up.....look how far you've come" and for that I thank you Jen. I needed the push. She reminded me that sometimes you can weigh the same but actually be smaller because you're building lean muscle mass. Is there really anyone on this planet that takes any degree of comfort in that little piece of information? I don't think so. I need to see the fucking numbers people!
I've been back on track with my goddamned doggie fitness program this week after a really convenient break because it was raining. Resuming the walkies have been difficult due to my dog's recent crack addiction. This is the only explanation I have for their behavior after 4 days of enforced confinement. While I'm at work......they're home smoking crack. Nickolai has had a set back. He got in to the pantry and ate an entire value sized bag of pupperoni. When offered a carrot because that's all I fucking have for him now.....he took it gently in his mouth.....then spit it at my feet. Maybe I should call Jennifer to take a picture of his ass. Little bastard.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
I am my mother's daughter! When I went to the gym to "weigh in" the trainer would tell me it's okay I didn't see the giant poundage number go down, I went down in inches... DON'T CARE! I would feel defeated. I wanted to quit. Just can't. This plateau is when we join together harder than ever. Let's walk fit together! We can get on the wii. You need a different exercise. SHOCK the old system. We'll think of something.
ReplyDeleteShhhhhh, don't let them hear you.
ReplyDelete