Saturday, June 23, 2012

So. Today was weigh-in at the old Weight Watchers place. Yep...haven't lost a fucking pound. Just shoot me. Seriously. I do everything they tell me to do and I get zero results. I know, I'm supposed to be patient. But seriously? This blows. I hate it.
So now, my husband, Jacob, is going to take the weight-loss reigns for the next month. I don't know if I'll cancel the WW or keep it but he's insistent that we need to do things his way because it's worked for him in the past. He's all about the no carbs thing. Which I know works for loads of people but why do I feel like the minute we stop doing it we'll just gain everything back?
I'm so frustrated and annoyed. Jacob is telling me to do it his way because he's seen a zillion nutritionists and quite honestly this whole endeavor is making me crazy so I'm willing to try just about anything. It started out as an adventure, an experiment that I could learn from and look back upon with a smile when I became svelte and sexy. It's turned into a massive pain in the balls that makes me want to break things.
Maybe I should go break things. That, at least, would count as exercise right? I mean I could use a golf club and a bat...I have both. And a paintball gun. About a month ago my awesome landlord who so happens to run a wrecker let me use one of the cars he'd towed from an accident as a canvas for my girls group to spray paint their rage on then smash the hell out of. It was a magical day.

One of my best memories of the house nightmare of 2009 was when my sister, brother, friend Steve, and I had finished clearing the stuff out of the house and decided it was time to break some shit. So we took everything that was glass and brought it out to my fire pit. We then proceeded to spend about 45 minutes with golf clubs in hand (taking turns in an orderly fashion for safety) throwing shit at the brick wall of the fire pit or lining it up driving range style and nailing the shit out of it.
The neighbors, in case they didn't already think I was completely redneck and bat shit crazy, received proof of both that day. It was a magical time. We took special care to find anything of my ex's that we could use and gave that the royal treatment. Which looked very similar to the regular treatment of smashing but it was infused with extra pizzazz.
We're off to the grocery store to get some fish and protein type food items.
Wish me luck.

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