The Dieting Chronicles of Dumpy Von Marshmallow Waist and Duchess McMilkshakes: Weeks 3 & 4

A week or so late and a lot of dollars short, here we are with our Thanksgiving update. We might also be late posting, because the diet struggle bus got caught in traffic in Eat Everything Even When You’re Full and Fat Food Town.

Shit doesn’t work…

How was Thanksgiving? Did you eat your weight in pie?

A: Thanksgiving was SO good!! I didn’t eat my weight in pie but I drank it in wine and other various cocktails (evidently, I forgot I was 36, and had to be up real early the next day). There only ended up being 8 of us, but we ate and drank and laughed until no noise came out. I had everything I wanted and didn’t feel guilty for a single second. It was legitimately the best day I’ve had in months!

When you get to laugh like this with your family, you’re winning at life (plus, it’s a great ab workout).

K: Damn near. I started out the day trying to be really disciplined, though, so I made diet pumpkin cinnamon rolls that are supposed to be only 3 Weight Watchers points per roll for breakfast.

Spoiler Alert: My boyfriend has requested that if I promise cinnamon rolls again they not be made with Greek yogurt and pumpkin purée.

He was not a fan, and if I’m being honest, they were not worth driving to my parents’ house to borrow a rolling pin because I don’t own one and then having to knead weird Greek yogurt-y dough.

After the disappointment of not-sweet-at-all cinnamon rolls, it was game time when dinner rolled around. I basically stuffed myself silly. I barely even came up to breathe mid-bite. I guess what I’m thankful for this year is not asphyxiating at the Thanksgiving dinner table.

I inhaled this plate in record time. It would have been embarrassing had I not been so amazed/impressed with myself.

How is the diet going, by the way?

A: Soooooo I kinda hate it. Not the diet itself; Weight watchers is fine, and probably the least sadistic diet in the industry at the moment. What I hate is the fact that I can’t behave like a normal person around food, so I have to call on other people (who also can’t act right) to tell me what to do. It’s bullshit. You want to know what else is bullshit?! If I want to shop at normal stores, and not have Omar The Tent Maker design my wedding dress, I’m going to have to follow some sort of program for the rest of my life. I could sit and eat an entire container of Oreos just thinking about it.

K: I think I’m doing half alright, actually*

*This was more than a week ago.

RED ALERT. NOT DOING ALRIGHT.

I’m struggling HARD. The abso-fucking-lute worse time to start a diet is during the holidays? What was I thinking? This was my dinner and drink of choice this past Friday night:

Fried and more fried. Not a wise choice.
I almost count this as medicinal after the week I had, so…

And then it just kind of spiraled out of control the rest of the weekend, because once fries tough my lips it’s OVER.

Le sigh.

Was it hard to get back on the stinking, sucky ass diet horse after the biggest eating holiday of the year?

A: It took me an extra day to get back to it because Friday I felt like a bag of smashed assholes, and I needed grease and sleep; rinse, lather and repeat. Then, I made the mistake of weighing myself, and magically found it much easier to get back to it. On any given day I can fluctuate 2-4 pounds just in water and how full I am anyway, so let’s just say the number wasn’t great. For the record, I would do it all again (hangover and all) because it was good for my soul to be with the people I love, and disconnect from the day-to-day nonsense for a few glorious hours.

K: See above.

What are you hating right now about this diet thing?

A: In theory it’s a great plan. They make healthier foods zero points in hopes you’ll choose things like eggs and veggies over a 12 point donut for breakfast thus staying fuller for longer, and giving your overworked, over-caffeinated body some of the things it actually needs. The problem is, I find myself skipping healthier options in order to make room for the naughtier ones. A glazed donut is 12 points. My favorite yogurt with almonds and a scoop of protein is 8 points. The donut always wins.

K: Three things:

1. I hate leftover chicken with my entire being. The second you reheat it, it takes on a whole new flavor that activates my gag reflex. In order to force it down, I drown it in BBQ sauce. It used to be “free” to dip your chicken in the sweet sauce, now it’s not. Because chicken is a “free” food, I’m eating chicken all the time. I’m just gagging as I eat every meal. It’s great.

Literally me, cooking chicken, knowing it’s gonna taste like garbage when I eat it for lunch the next day.

(I’m still dipping my chicken in BBQ sauce and not counting it and Weight Watchers can suck it.)

2. How much spaghetti squash can one person eat? Because, I think I’m at the lifetime limit already. IJUSTWANTSOMEFUCKINGPASTAALRIGHT.

3. Cauliflower rice is not rice. Like, not even remotely close to being rice. Frankly, I’m appalled.

Anything you’re loving?

A: Love is a pretty strong word to describe a diet. I love that I might not die of diabetes if I lose 40 more pounds. I appreciate that my pants fit better. Which brings me to another point: How did I ever wear said pants before this, when they are still so tight now? I think they were holding on for dear life and no one had the heart to tell me my cellulite was showing. But yeah, there’s no love here. Just broccoli and my attitude.

K: I love the idea that I am heading in a healthier direction. I love that my pants are a teeny, tiny bit looser. I love that I look a little more you-know-I-don’t-think-she’s-pregnant-I-think-she-just-ate-a-burrito-for-lunch. Also, I LOVE eating poached eggs for breakfast instead of a bagel smothered in cream cheese.

(The last one is a lie.)

Walking past the bad stuffs we really want bad, trying not to scream

How are ya’ll doing? Anyone trying to diet now? How’s it treatin’ ya? Let us know in the comments!

The Dieting Chronicles of Dumpy von Marshmallow Waist and Duchess McMilkshakes: Week Two

What was your biggest diet disappointment this week?

A: I have several so be patient with me:

1.) A single serving of Oreos according to the WW app is 3 cookies. Just 3.

2.) 3 cookies is 7 (!!) points.

3.) Even though Oreos are vegan, they are in no way healthy.

4.) Try as I might, I am not at my goal weight this week.

5.) I won’t be at my goal weight next week either.

6.) Vegetables still taste like vegetables.

K: On Fridays, along with my coffee, I treat myself to a scone or some other decadent delight from Starbucks. Since I’m counting now, I had to look up how many points the pumpkin scone is. I figured it couldn’t be much more than 15. I mean, it’s pumpkin. Pumpkin is healthy.

I didn’t end up getting the damn pumpkin scone, because it’s 22 mother fucking points. For anyone totally unfamiliar with Weight Watchers, let me paint you a really hideous picture. My daily point allowance is 28 points and my weekly “cheat points” are set at 42.

Because I wanted to eat the rest of the day, I had to pass on the pumpkin scone for the first time in three years of Friday Starbucks cheats.

I died a little inside when the barista, who knows me way too well, said, “You’re not getting your pumpkin scone today?” and I had to make myself say, “No, Alex. Just the coffee.

What was your biggest diet success or win this week?

A: I know there are people who eat only when they are hungry and stop once they are satisfied, so I won’t break my arm patting myself on the back for a week of eating like a normal person. I am, however, a little proud of the moments I was able to walk away from the treats in the break room. Or, when I walked places I normally would have driven to. Lastly, I’m grateful I didn’t give up the second day when I really wanted to… because I really, really wanted to.

K: I didn’t kill anyone in the name of hunger. That’s all I got.

What is a diet/Weight Watchers injustice you faced this week?

A: I’m not sure if I’d call it an injustice really, but I went to an actual meeting and it was insanely annoying. If you are STILL fatter than me you do not get to tell me how to do this. How ’bout you follow your own advice there, Patty? Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle fat? I’ve decided to keep my interactions very limited from here on out.

K: When reading through the Weight Watchers app for ideas for low point snacks (I was really hoping I’d happen upon a monster brownie only clocking in at two points) I caught an article on FAQs. Let me just share a screenshot:

Fruit, ice (Thanks, WW, for making ice zero points. That’s big of you), and nonfat, unsweetened yogurt are all zero point foods, but, somehow, magically, when they are blended into a smoothie, the smoothie is not zero points.

I am no math whiz, but I’m fairly confident that 0+0+0= MOTHER FUCKING ZERO*.

What is a diet tip or hack you learned this first week?

A: For me this whole weight loss thing can’t be black and white; perfection or failure. Don’t get me wrong, it’s real easy for me to be a stickler for every bite, point, step taken, and to make myself batshit crazy until I give up. In all reality though, I don’t want to live like that. On the flip side, it’s also really easy to eat whatever I want with reckless abandon and then get pissed when my jeans don’t fit. If I am going to make this a true lifestyle change I need to live somewhere in the middle- that grey area where most of my choices are good, but sometimes I eat three donuts for breakfast in the bathtub, and skip the gym all together.

K: La Croix the shit out of your day. Want a bag of M&M’s? FALSE. Drink a La Croix. Feeling like you need a milkshake and a side of fries to dip in said milkshake? FALSE. Your fat ass can drink a La Croix and it can like it.

If you don’t know what La Croix is just imagine a fruit-flavored soda but without any of what makes a soda taste good. That’s La Croix. It’s disgusting, but the skinny bitches drink it, so I’m hoping to be let in on the secret sometime soon.

How about an “ah ha” moment or sudden moment of clarity?

A: Right now my life is an absolute dumpster fire.

This past week, I ended two jobs I LOVED in exchange for a job out of necessity, and it has made my heart so sad. I want(ed) to eat all the things because I needed to feel better, and I did slip a few times:

Me to Katie- “ Sooooo you’re my accountability buddy and here we go. I just used all 26 of my daily points, PLUS 10 exercise points and TWENTY MOTHER FUCKING NINE flex points on dinner because my heart is sad and I hate my life and I miss my mom. That is a 65 point DINNER dude. 65 points. I’m gonna let that sink in for you.”

Yea… that’s real life. But I got back on. I didn’t keep eating everything that didn’t try to eat me first for days upon end. The “aha” in all of this is that I don’t need to be a complete lunatic to make progress in the right direction. I lost 4.6 pounds this week- not a bad start. I just need to be consistent most of the time and be brave enough to get back on when I screw it all up. Perfection isn’t realistic and my goal this week is to spend more time in the grey area. It feels more doable, and there’s Oreos in there.

K: It feels good going to bed not feeling like a fat piece of shit. I mean, I’m still fat, but I feel less “piece of shit”. Some nights, before the Weight Watchers Awakening, I would go to bed right after eating 18 bags of popcorn, an entire pint of Halo Top, and half a watermelon. It’s pretty alright to not feel like my food choices are literally and figuratively choking me out.


What are you struggling with this week? Any fun diet tips for Dumpy and McMilkshake? What would you like to see us cover? Let us know in the comments!

*There are a lot of ‘mother fuckers’ in this post. Excuse our French, we’re just REALLY FUCKING HUNGRY.


Don’t forget to send in your questions to Aunt Fatty here. And, check out the first post here! I’m handing out advice that’s wanted like candy at a Weight Watchers meeting, so you don’t want to miss out!

The Dieting Chronicles of Dumpy von Marshmallow Waist and Duchess McMilkshakes*

Ya’ll, the weight loss motivation is finally getting serious up in here! (Right in time for all of the delicious Thanksgiving and Christmas season goodies. Smart.)

I’ve found me a Weight Watchers girlfriend and she’s funny lady, Amanda AKA Duchess McMilkshakes. She doesn’t have a blog yet, but I’m slowly chipping away at her apprehension to put her funny out into the world. For the time being, we are going to collab on a Weight Watchers weight loss adventure.

We each signed up for Weight Watchers (again) and took our ‘before’ photos (that, for the time being, will live in the privacy of our phones and in the minds of our lucky men). We are so ready to take this bitch DOWN.

Well, at least we are ready to not eat cake for breakfast *everyday*.

Because all of you lucky people already know so too much about me (and it’s about to get even more TMI) I’m just going to share Amanda’s bio. But, here’s my selfie in case you forgot what I looked like:

My two chins and my sassy cousin.

Throwback to when my daughter stayed in one spot for more than 10 seconds, and I could get my hair and makeup done. It’s one or the other now and I almost never pick makeup. I’m grateful every single morning for eyelash extensions.

My name is Amanda, and I’m a 36 year old mom to the sweetest angel on the planet, who inadvertently destroyed my bladder and waistline. I’m currently on a mission (with the help of my friend, Katie) to get fit, which hasn’t been easy because I love food and hate exercise. Let’s be honest, I didn’t get this round by eating apples and walking everywhere. Oh, and did I mention that my dude is a chef? Like an actual, classically trained chef who makes delicious food and couldn’t care less how fat I am as long as he gets to see me naked once in a while? It feels insurmountable some days, but I’ve mustered up the courage to give it another shot. This journey isn’t going to be easy, but I’m excited to share it with everyone- the good, the bad, and the funny. Let the hilarity ensue.

I don’t care that there is a mystery period in the middle of the sentence, this meme is our brains on bacon, ya’ll.

Random fun facts:

K: *I’m obnoxiously long-winded. Oh wait, we all knew that already.

*When I was a toddler, I used to get into the splits to stand up. I went on to do gymnastics for several years. You’d never know any of this after seeing me get off the couch or out of bed in the morning, though.

A: *I am 8 months postpartum and I still weigh over two bills. ‘How far over’ you ask? Far enough that I’d need to be seven feet tall for me to have a healthy BMI.
*I have contemplated teaching my baby and or dogs how to tie shoes so that I don’t have to pass out every time I bend over because I can’t fucking breathe.

Why are you losing weight?

A: I want to Beverly Goldberg the shit out of my daughter, and I can’t do that if my heart explodes because I can’t stop putting half and half on my Apple Jacks. Seriously though, you gotta try it.

K: I’m pretty sick of my bingo wings swinging like huge bull balls when I write things on the board at work. I’m really worried one or both might get carried away and knock a kid out one day.

What makes this time different?

A: Honestly, I don’t know if this time will be the magic time I get my shit together and stick to a diet, but I do know that I’m not comfortable settling for elastic waistbands and angled selfies so that only 1.5 chins show. Unfortunately, Snapchat hasn’t made a flower wreath to flatter my waddle, so I need a new plan of action.

K: I’m just gonna be real TMI here. Last weekend, I was getting into the shower. It wasn’t a hair-washing day, so I had my super sexy shower cap on. I look completely and utterly ridiculous in the thing, but it does the job, so I guess I’ll have to accept looking like a beached whale at the salon.

I was leaned down, completely naked, getting the water temperature right. All of a sudden, I hear a noise that sounded exactly like Tina Belcher saying, “Butt”, so, naturally, I figured it was a serial killer who somehow managed to break in in broad daylight while the dude and I were at home. A split second later, I realized it was my boyfriend imitating Tina Belcher and I screamed, “Don’t, you asshole!” and slammed the door in his face.

From the other side of the door comes his voice, “What the hell? I just said ‘butt’. I saw your butt, so I said ‘butt’.”

Yeah, he saw my totally-in-need-of-a-serious-waxing-job butt in the bright light of morning. He probably also noticed my second ass (more on that later) and the fact that my back rolls have back rolls. Thankfully, since my rear end was facing him, he didn’t see my stomach eating my entire lower half.

That’s what I thought in my head. He probably just saw the ass he (for some strange reason) loves, but in my head what he saw was something so frightful, so grotesque, it pissed me off that he snuck up on me when I wasn’t prepared or almost fully clothed and in the dark.

That mental narrative needs to stop.

What was the breaking point? The cherry on top? The straw that broke the camel’s back?

A: Some of the kids in my Pre-K class asked when I’m having my baby. Granted, they’re 4 and 5 years old, but the fact they think I’m 72 weeks pregnant is a real problem.

K: Probably when I saw my second ass for the first time. What is a second ass you ask? Well, it’s a secondary butt within one’s primary butt. Usually, at least in my case, your second ass looks like two chicken cutlets with a bad case of cellulite that have been glued smack dab in the bottom middle part of the dominant ass. I noticed it while I was leaning on the counter brushing my teeth (because that task is really tiring, obvi) and because the full-length mirror was lined up perfectly with the vanity mirror, the stars aligned and- bam- I saw it, clear as day. I always thought I only had one butt.

Biggest irrational diet fear?

A: I believe, wholeheartedly, that being fat is God’s way of keeping me humble. If I were thin, I’d run around in two tassels and a leaf in the middle of winter with zero fucks given. I’m afraid that if I ever get in shape I’m going to have to have my ho phase at 36, with a new baby. It’s not gonna be a good look.

K: My most irrational fear is that I’m going to like this diet thing and turn into someone who prefers bullshit like kale brownies over fried Devil’s food cake donuts. Like, what if I become that annoying person someone made the meme “Just shut up and eat your salad, you whore” about? (I added that last part. I think that meme needed an extra touch of sass.) I can’t become that person. Fatty McSpaghetti Squash just doesn’t have the right ring.

What do you think you’ll miss most when you change your lifestyle?

A: I think I’ll miss the comfort that comes with old habits. Sometimes, the need to feel better outweighs the need to fit into skinny jeans.

K: I’m gonna miss just being a total fool about food. There’s something really freeing about not knowing or caring about how many calories or points something is. As awesome as it is to wake up and know your food plans for the day are limitless, it becomes a problem by the end of the day when you’re eating as much as a running back that does zero running and gets out of breath doing the brownie dishes.


We have some exciting weight loss topics to explore and some insane ideas for fitness in store. Let us know what you want to know more about. What would you like to see us do in the name of getting fit (because we are pretty much down to do anything ridiculous if we can write about it)? How can we embarrass ourselves to help you? Let us know in the comments.

*Amanda found this website where you can find your weight loss name to um…inspire you. If being named Greasy McBacon Thighs doesn’t get someone to eat a salad, I don’t know what will.

The Fatty in Denial Diet Shtick

In case you haven’t caught the 872 times I’ve mentioned my trip coming up, I’m heading across the pond in just a little more than a week!
Way back in January, after making our first of many house stay reservations and the like, I remember thinking, “Well, shit, I can’t go on this trip with these fat rolls and bingo wings!”
Thus began what I call The Fatty in Denial Diet Shtick.
It’s a cyclical shit show of epic proportions. It’s something I do every time I have a reason to “finally” lose the weight. It’s a really fun game, amusement, joke.
Step 1: Realization
OMG! Amsterdam can’t know I’m fat!
It’s not like my thighs conducting heat when they are rubbed together as I walk or the fact that my jeans (when I wear the fuckers) have cut a permanent line into my fat don’t remind me of my overly bodacious bod, but the realization that I’ll be fat in another time zone and completely out of my comfort zone usually snaps me right back to cold, hard reality.
Step 2: The Game Plan
It’s time to finally get serious and open the Weight Watchers app I’m paying $20 a month for.
No more soda. No more white bread. No more sugar. No more happiness. Quit crying.
Join a damn gym or at least go to a yoga class once a week, shit.
Walk every day. Literally, rain or fucking shine.
Do leg lifts and squats while my students are testing. They won’t think I’m weird. I mean, they pick their noses literally while staring me down, so we’ll be even.
Buy diet pills on Amazon. All of the legit diet pills come from Mexico.
Take B-12 drops. They give me horrific gas, but too.freaking.bad.
All of the diet and fitness ideas and quick fixes found on Pinterest are explored. No obese stone can be left unturned.
Step 3: Actually Acting on the Plan
After making really big plans and promises that totally aren’t unrealistic at all, I settle on just counting Weight Watchers points and walking. It’s what worked ten years ago, when I was young. It’ll totally work now.
I usually set off with gusto, buying pounds of $60 coconut flour, enough carrot sticks for a horse show, a pallet of eggs, and 18 spaghetti squash (squashes?).

I was taking-a-fitness-picture-for-Instagram-serious about getting my fitness on.
Step 4: Going Hard and Heavy
…for a week.
Right as it starts getting really shitty and downright depressing that my days start with farty eggs and boring coffee, I start to relax the rules a little bit give up completely.
That totally looks like a cup. Well, maybe just a little more and it’ll be a cup (it’s usually three cups)
Granola is better than a glazed cake donut, so…
One bite is like no points at all. Yes, even when I take 15 bites. 15 zero point bites is still zero. I know math.
Step 5: Counting the Amount of Days Remaining Before the Event
If I have several months before I need to lose the weight, I can relax on the diet, because losing 20 pounds in a month is totally doable.
Why the hell am I already making myself miserable? I don’t need to start really getting serious for at least another month or two.
Step 6: An Upper Cut to the Double Chin AKA Sabotage
After months of telling myself I have “x amount of months” until I need to really get serious, it’s now D-Day. Inevitably, the following will occur to derail any semblance of the perfect diet plan I made so many moons ago, when I was still young and full of hope:
Birthdays
Holidays
Teacher Appreciation Week
Movies
Donuts in the staff lounge
National Pizza Day
The kick off to Food Truck Friday
92 I-had-a-bad-day-Costco-sized-popcorn-and-Reese’s-Pieces pig outs
Sunday Brunch
Friday
Monday
A new donut shop within walking distance

I can’t go to the movies and not get popcorn. Like, it’s against the natural order of things. The popcorn is not in the picture, because I ate it before the movie even started.
Step 7: Defeat and Denial
Once the day that I-can-still-maybe-lose-a-few-pounds-if-I-really-try-hard comes and goes with a cloud of Cheetos dust, the defeat and denial sets in.
I mean, it’s pointless now, so I might as well eat those cupcakes I saw in the staff lounge.
Half of a watermelon in one sitting is healthy.
I gave it the old college try.
Step 8: Fuck Yo Couch
So what if I didn’t lose any weight? I didn’t gain any either. So, I basically met my goal. Europe is gonna get whatever body I give it, dammit.
Step 9: There’s Always Next Time
This one doesn’t even need a description.


In order to not disrupt the fragile space-time continuum, these steps are on an infinite loop until the end of time.
Do you follow the same steps? Did I miss one? Share your tips for not losing weight or getting in shape for an important event or milestone in your life. I can’t wait to hear how else I can fail miserably!

Tomato Poop

I have missed complaining about how fat I am (while doing fuck all about it) so much. So much.
I’ve been pretty focused on my travel posts, because of my trip coming up (in two months-cue the obsessive worrying about literally every possible eventuality), that my I’m-a-failure-at-adulting-because-I-can’t-be-assed-to-put-my-registration-sticker-on-my-license-plate-for-four-months-until-I’m-pulled-over-and-I-eat-entire-tubs-of-Cool-Whip-in-one-sitting posts have kind of been put on the back burner.
But, good news (or not, depending on who you are) I’m finally getting around to trying to lose some weight before my trip, so I’m posting a diet fail post!
I think I’d have really shocked myself and disappointed you all had I attempted to get my dieting shit together in a timely manner.
No, just as can be expected with Fatty McCupcakes, I’m due to depart the states in two months, so now, when it’ll be next to impossible to make much of a dent in my blobby body, I decide it’s finally time.
I’m a fucking genius and I’m winning at life SO HARD.
So, I think I’ve mentioned that I’m a hardcore fan of Weight Watchers. Not only have I had success on the program (I lost 50 pounds 10 years and 60 pounds ago), I’m not keen on restrictive diets that don’t allow me a fucking doll-sized piece of cake even.
I LOVE that I can basically eat anything (within reason and expertly portion controlled) and still lose weight.
However, with the latest WW program, the points are less and the good stuff is worth more. Sugar is more of a sin than fat now. However, there are loads more zero point foods (chicken, eggs, beans, fruit, most vegetables, plain Greek yogurt, etc.). So, I guess it’s supposed to be easier or whatever.
Y’ALL, I CAN BARELY EAT ANYTHING.
If I want to eat my favorite Naked granola with my Greek yogurt for breakfast, there’s no way I can have carbs for lunch or dinner AND eat half a pint of Halo Top ice cream (Halo Top, your deliciously sinful, yet low-cal ice cream is my SALVATION).
So, choices.
It really blows I can’t eat granola AND ice cream. It’s not like I’m asking for donuts and whole pints of Ben & Jerry’s, damn.
I’ve decided that I’d rather eat Halo Top and popcorn like a fat piece of shit in the evenings than eat carbs during the day.
Thus, I’ve had to get creative.
Tuesday night I had beef stroganoff over broccoli, ya’ll. BROCCOLI. I got to *enjoy* my broccoli masterpiece while my boyfriend ate his stroganoff with egg noodles. The fucker.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, we had stroganoff for leftovers last night and since I’d eaten all of the broccoli like a starving sugar addict on day five without the white stuff, all I had left were Brussel sprouts.
Brussel sprouts and stroganoff DON’T MIX. It was not my favorite.

Brussel sprouts are not pasta. As my boyfriend says, “Barfel sprouts are the devil’s nads.”
I’ve also had to get more creative for lunch. I’ve been eating nitrate-free salami, cheese sticks, and cherry tomatoes. I swear it tastes almost nothing like antipasto salad.
But, it’s not terrible.
Well, yesterday, my organic greenhouse-grown cherry tomatoes were still a little wet from when I rinsed them that morning.
I was absentmindedly wiping them off onto a paper towel as I popped them into my mouth, eyes glued on my phone.
When I went to wipe my mouth, I did a double take. It was covered in yellow-green-brown stains.

The offending stain

I thought something smelled funny. I knew it wasn’t that fart.
Wait.
That doesn’t look right.
Fuck.
I knew I should have scrubbed them, instead of just splashed water over them.
Oh.Gawd.
At this point, I was obsessively smelling my paper towel, while one of my students, inside working on make up work, kept stealing “What-the-hell” glances at me.
Then, I smelled my fingers, the inside of the tomato tub, and the paper towel 34 more times.
Poop. It smells like poop.
Instant fucking panic.
While I was wondering how long it’d take for the tomato poop to make me get sick and die, I messaged my boyfriend.
His response, “Baby, I highly doubt your tomatoes are covered in poop.”
Because he had to be wrong, I took to a Facebook group I started to get a woman’s opinion. I shared a picture of the paper towel and basically asked how long I had.
Then, I sat at my desk, just waiting to die.
Oh no. My stomach is gurgling.
I probably have some deadly intestinal disease now.
I better just be proactive and put in for a substitute.
I wonder if the hospital would like a heads up?
*ding*
I got a response to my picture from a very professional-sounding person who regularly grows tomatoes in a greenhouse.
The green-yellow-brown stains from the tomatoes were tomato tar.
I’m still not excited that I ingested something called ‘tomato tar’, but it wasn’t poop. It.wasn’t.poop.
Another near death crisis averted.
See what perils I am faced with when dieting?
#donutsdonthavetar

I don’t know who said this, but they are my people

Wherefore* Art Thou, Cupcakes? 

Damn it all to Carb Hell. Why is it so hard to make good food choices? Why does movie theater popcorn taste so damn delicious? Why does a piece of Boston cream pie at 2 AM always sound like a good idea? Why do carbs make you feel warm inside, like you’ve found the promise land of gluttony and instead of guilt, all you feel is sweet or salty goodness on your tongue? 
I mean, really. Sure, eating healthier has long-term benefits. I can attest to the fact that eating better makes you healthier in that I haven’t had a single migraine since I’ve been eating better. Not one. Before, during the height of my Cup O’ Crack days, I was having a migraine once a month. Once a month. Anyone suffering from true migraines (I say, “true” migraines, because a regular take-two-Ibuprofen-and-you’re-good headache ain’t no migraine, ya hear?) would understand why this is so monumental, so joyous, so motivating. 
So, why isn’t it motivating when I’m faced with a decision- to sneak a pink sprinkle donut into the early-geriatrics-only movie, or not, and I choose to be that person inhaling a donut that, more or less, made it into my mouth, the rest melting between my fat boobs? 
Why? 
Why, Diet Gods? With all that is good and Holy, why? 
I have made some positive gains. It hasn’t all been disappointment and let down. I’ve found that eating more than two pieces of rich fudge practically sends me into a diabetic coma. So, I have started eating only one 5 inch square piece of fudge. Progress. 
I’ve found that cabbage steaks are actually really good (not the same as actual steak-dripping with salty, bloody garlicky goodness. Erm, excuse me a minute, while I…). 
I’ve found that chocolate protein pancakes with banana and sugar-free syrup almost tastes like the real thing. 
I’ve found that baking an egg in half of an avocado is the most disgusting fucking thing I’ve ever eaten (do not be fooled by those beautiful Pinterest images of a beautiful egg inside of an inviting avocado, all lightly sprinkled with pepper. It’s horrible. Don’t do it. 
I’ve found that drinking more water makes me have to pee every 15 minutes, but I actually do feel more alive. 
These are just some of the discoveries I’ve made. What remains glaringly obvious, however, is that resisting a vanilla cupcake with rainbow sprinkled frosting will almost certainly take the strength of the gods. 
Sometimes I might be feeling Herculean, most other times I might be feeling like a damn cupcake. 
*sigh*
 

Oopsie-daisy. I accidentally got two donuts.

 
*’Wherefore’, despite the common misconception, does not mean ‘where’. It roughly translates to “Why the actual fuck, cupcakes?” 
You can read about it here

Diet-ish Day 1

The first day of my healthier, clean-ish, no artificial sugar (except some sugar-free gum, or my mouth feels like the Sahara and smells like Epoisses on a hot day) diet-ish started today. I consumed two protein balls, baby carrots, raw almonds, hard-boiled eggs, turkey, strawberries, a sweet potato, asparagus, and an apple with natural peanut butter. Before anyone hates on me because one or more of these food items is not really “clean”, take note of the “ish”. Also, take note of my opinion that eating clean kind of sucks, and there is no one I know yet who has succeeded doing this long term. I mean, the thought of eating like this is only made tolerable because I know it’s ending soon. 
Not surprisingly, I was as ravenous as a Cougar housewife first thing this morning. Surprisingly, my balls did the trick. I was hardly hungry at lunch, but my hard-boiled egg and cottage cheese was just too tempting to resist. 
Because I feel weird not eating when it’s Eating Time, and I’ve heard you should eat every 3 hours, I choked down some raw almonds and more effing baby carrots after school. I also did not get into my candy horde. How I was able to abstain is unknown. 
I’m actually quite shocked I so easily bagged up my candy and bid adieu to my only school-appropriate way to self-soothe. Katie took my bag of Kisses, Dum Dums, Smarties, and Jolly Ranchers to keep it safe from my monstrous gob WAY too easily. I’m sure I’ll never see that candy again. I’m still numb. 
I don’t know why this was so easy today. I’m sure It’ll be a different story tomorrow when the novelty wears off and Katie comes in to co-teach with my chocolate still in the corners of her mouth. I will most likely want to pounce on her, and by the end of the day, I can see myself shaking like a coke fiend, desperate for a fix. 
As I’m writing this, my sweet potato is still hard as a rock in the oven. Why does it take 5 hours to bake a potato? All the directions saying, “45 minutes to an hour” are blatant lies. Lies. Also, I’ve been prepping, cooking, and washing since I’ve been home. This is bullshit. I have got to figure out a way to make this easier, because I am way too lazy and unmotivated for the work required to eat like this. I’m also super grouchy that I’m not eating a Skinny Cow ice cream bar right now. Balls.