So, it’s no secret that food is the culprit for my fatness. It’s also no secret that I have zero control when it comes to food. If something is tasty, there is no just sampling it, or eating a normal, decent amount of it. No, I eat something until it’s gone. I eat it until my insides are crying out in agony. I eat it until I drown out the voice of reason, the voice saying, “Er, I think that’s good. Enough. Stop”. Shut up, you deceitful bitch, and take this cheesecake like you want it. You know you want it.
Anyways.
In a nutshell, I’ve always struggled with food. My cupboards are bare, and not because I can’t afford to stock them, but because I can’t have any temptation just lying around. You would think I was a crackhead. In a sense, I am, just my drug of choice is kettle corn and caramel cookie crunch gelato.
Since Amy and I are getting all physical with our yoga and plank challenge, (I think the squat challenge has been dismissed for reasons of “fuck that”) we decided to go all the way and try to eat clean for a whopping 3 days. Yes, I know. “Go us”, in a really haughty, sarcastic way, “3 whole days, I don’t think we will make it”. In defense, I don’t think we will make it. Or, I won’t. I can’t speak for Amy. Let me explain, we are teachers. Chocolate, and large doses of it, is practically prescribed by our physicians. I have a drawer in my desk, specifically reserved for my chocolate horde. I have decor made of Dum Dums in my room. I will have to cart all of that crap out of my classroom to be successful with this no-eating-sweets business. That’s the plan, actually. Another 3rd grade teacher will be “watching” our chocolate for us. I can pretty much just kiss it ‘goodbye’.
After a fair amount of tears and mourning for my chocolate, I got on good ol’ Pinterest and pinned “clean” and Paleo-ish shopping lists and recipes. I can’t say we are going all gangbusters as far as eating 100% clean or Paleo, just drastically cutting down on highly processed foods and sugars. One area in which I intake far too much artificial sugar is with my morning coffee and granola bar. Instead of my usual chemical-laden coffee creamer, I made my own with almond milk, honey, and vanilla. I can’t take credit for this recipe as its all thanks to Pinterest, but I can take credit for the cute fabric flower on top of the jar. That was all me. It was also very necessary, obviously.
Coffee creamer recipe: http://pinterest.com/pin/113997434294579075/
Next, I knew I would need a “sweet” fix, outside of my morning coffee, so I made protein balls. I would like to say I’ve been a total adult, in regards to the naming of this health “treat”, but alas I’ve been making jokes all day about my balls. I don’t really have balls, but I made them. They started out too small, and I felt so bad for them. No one wants small balls, and they just wouldn’t satisfy. So, I made my balls bigger. Also, I thought that they resembled Snuffleupagus’ balls, if he had any, that is. I mean, don’t they?
PB Granola Bites: http://pinterest.com/pin/113997434294561989/
I found this recipe on Pinterest, as well. I did not add the mini chocolate chips, as I felt they were the direct opposite of what I should add to health balls. I also nixed the chia seeds, because that is the only thing Winco does not have in their bulk section. Oh well. I used Adam’s natural peanut butter and raw honey. I ate one ball, and wowza. I never knew balls could be so tasty!
Tomorrow, these health treats will be the most exciting thing I will eat, outside of the raw almonds and zero taste Greek yogurt on my menu. I will really have to start beginning to live for something other than food. I’m getting the shakes just thinking of it. Perhaps, I won’t make it one day this week, or maybe it will be so fantastic to eat this way, it will be a total lifestyle change. Either way, it will make for great material for my blog. Stay tuned.
*The lack of commas in the ecard image in no way signifies my knowledge (or lack there of) of commas. It was too funny, and too true to not include.
Tag: Humor
Her
Everyone has a blog. I know. Almost just as many people have a blog about their journey from fat life to one of self-acceptable (or sadness, because being thin almost always means no more cupcakes). Despite this, I’m beginning a blog about my journey. How cliche. Whether it will be told from the perspective of a fat girl trying to accept her jiggly arms or through the eyes of a 32-year-old woman who has almost no idea what she is doing with her life has not been decided at this point. I’ll write about my fatness. I’ll write about my need to feel accepted in whatever form. I’ll write about my opinions from “fat acceptance” to the state of our crumbling world, both literally and figuratively. I’ll write about my life experiences, both past and present. I’ll write about the joys and pains of educating our future. I’ll just write, funny, thought-provoking, controversial, whatever.
A total aside-every ‘her’ I’ve typed thus far has auto-corrected to ‘Her’. Her wants to be capitalized. I’m not sure if this means anything, but I really, really want it to. Maybe it means I’m an important, inspiring, worthy woman and my blog will actually be read by others? Maybe it will inspire others? Maybe I’ll make you laugh, cry, or even make you eternally grateful you’re not me. Even if this little sign doesn’t mean anything and my blog is a total bomb or a total unknown in a world full of writers trying to find their way via WordPress, I will continue to write. I am writing for me. Writing is therapeutic, calming, exciting, inspiring and it’s something I will do regardless of how many followers or comments I receive. I’m really not writing for the exposure. I’m writing because I physically have to. When you wake up in the middle of the night to write down a thought so you don’t forget it, or when you park your car after just driving home from work and you have no idea what streets you took or how you even got home because you were mentally writing your next Facebook post or Yelp review, it’s time to start writing a blog again. For the safety of all people on the road, for my sanity, I’m writing again.
Thanks to Facebook and our over-sharing generation most of my readers (I’m already assuming I’ll have readers) know who I am. I’m not yet decided on whether who I am on Facebook or who I am at work or with friends is really who I am. Maybe I’ll find out someday.
Obviously, my name gives it away, I’m a voluptuous cupcake-lover (that’s being kind. I’m fat and I inhale Mix cupcakes in my closet and then I burn the evidence). I’m anal retentive. I’m funnier on paper. In person, I’m likely suffering from Aspergers. I hold on to everything (no, not in a hoarder way, more in an OCD-way). I beat a dead horse. I’m a germaphobe and I guess the secrets out? How did everyone know? I hate being looked at, but I usually feel ignored. I live in the past far too much. I have massive wanderlust, but I’m terrifed of the dangers and uncomfortable aspects of travel. I’m petrified of death, that death is just darkness. I collect Bath & Body Works products, but I hate materialism and have considered living more simply (it’ll never happen…). I notice and remember people, feelings, memories and details fair too perfectly. I’m either an excellent candidate for the Scotland Yard or I’m a creeper. I have only started discovering who I am. Haven’t we all just begun?
I’ve already lost most of you. I’m rambling at this point. I will stop for now. One tiny hint before I go: reading my words outloud might come easier, as I write how I think- a jumbled, mess of thoughts, feelings, desires and fears all wrapped up in a pretty pink bow, because I’m also a neat freak. Welcome to my world.
