Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Feeding the beast
Good evening, people. It's Tuesday. I'm late. I blame it on the fat I'm dragging. That's my confession. Nothing earth-shattering, but I swear, I'm shaking the boards beneath my feet. Reality reared her ugly head last Wednesday when Mister had had enough of my complaining about my weight gain this year so he put a gun to my head. Don't freak. He actually insisted I get on the scale, and I behaved as if I'd rather have a pointing gun. I looked down in horror and saw the fat truth.
I'm 5”0' and middle age. My metabolism has dropped like a rock, and I like to eat (shocking I know. How else do you put on twelve pounds?) I'm pissed because I know I have to eat less, work out more and consistently, simply to improve and maintain my health. I've been here before, and that's what is most frustrating.
Instead of simply being frustrated, I did as I've always done, I sought out folks to commiserate with me. Actually, I rallied an old troop and organized a weight loss challenge at work. I'm a social animal. I like taking on challenges with folks who want to achieve the same goal so if from time to time, I talk about our First Friday Fit Club, don't even think about rollin' your eyes. Do you really want to antagonize a hungry animal? Don't tempt me to pounce. Remember I'm packing the weight to make it hurt.
A little support is appreciated it. If on occasion, you think I'm grumpy, pass me a chocolate covered fiber bar and refrain from making any diet jokes. Tell me, “You got this.” If you read a few poems about food or the lack thereof, this would be a good time to lie and tell me they're good. Be kind to the hungry, and I promise I won't bite your head off.
So, what's shakin' in your world? Got a confession? I'll check back shortly. I'm hungry.
animal prompt was a perfect fit.