Month: April 2016

i will not eat this cookie.

Posted on by thedingismything

Yesterday at work, my boss brought me a cookie.

It’s adorable. A frosted sugar cookie in the shape of Cinderella’s glass slipper (or just a fancy high heel shoe) with blue sprinkles and little pink flowers for decoration.

I didn’t eat the cookie.

It sat on my desk, all day, staring at me. “Look at me. I’m delicious. I’m made with sugar!”

At one point I picked up the cookie. I read the sticker on the package. It’s obviously made at one of those boutique bakeries that specialize in custom orders. The blue sprinkles were a little melty, and had smeared on the plastic wrapper. The thick white frosting looked silky smooth, and I could perfectly imagine the way my teeth would puncture its perfect surface before sinking into the creamy layer smothered over the cookie. And don’t even get me started on the flowers. Tiny, baby pink, perfect sugary flowers.

I put the cookie down. I’m not going to eat this cookie.

With one week to go until I start Whole 30, I’m trying to be good this week so there’s no cold turkey withdrawals come Day 2 or 3. Weaning myself off the sugar slowly but surely. That will probably go out the window on Easter Sunday, but one day at a time, amiright?

Around mid-afternoon, I again looked at the cookie. I could *just* eat the flowers. They’re going to be the best part, anyway. That and the frosting. I don’t even care about the actual cookie. I’m not even hungry.

I wasn’t even hungry! I got up and walked away from the cookie.

A little while later, my brain remembered the cookie. I should just throw it away. I’m not going to eat it. … But I don’t want my boss to see that I threw it away. It might hurt his feelings. I’ll just leave it right here and throw it away when he leaves. … Maybe I could just scrape a little of the frosting off, just to see if it’s any good…

No! I’M NOT EATING THIS COOKIE.

My inner-dialogue went back and forth like this the entire afternoon. My taste buds, negotiating just a little taste, just one flower, with my brain and willpower (surprisingly, I have it somewhere) remembering to just say NO!

When my boss left for the day, I started to clean up and pack my things. I picked up the cookie. And looked at it, again. But I didn’t throw it away.

It felt a little like a victory that the cookie survived to see 5 pm, wholly intact. It’s not often that I am able to practice such self-control around food. If you give me a box of Girl Scout Cookies, I will eat an entire sleeve of Thin Mints in one sitting. I can’t have a bag of Mint Milanos in the house, because I will eat them all. At once. Cheddar-flavored potato chips don’t stand a chance around me. So the fact that this little cookie made it to the end of the day was a major effort.

I picked up the cookie and put it in my desk drawer. It’s still there, right now. I haven’t looked at it yet today, because I think the little pink flowers might do me in. I can’t tell if knowing it’s there is more like Linus’ security blanket or like when someone challenges me by telling me there’s something I can’t do – I immediately want to prove them wrong.

I’m going to leave the cookie in my desk. I’m reasonably sure that the cookie isn’t going to be good for very long. It’s probably pretty stale by now, anyway. But I’m hoping that it’s going to be a reminder that I didn’t want the cookie, I survived without eating the cookie, and that I didn’t let eating or not eating the cookie ruin my day.

I want to stop looking at food as being “bad” or “good.” I feel like that’s not a healthy route for someone like me. I know what’s healthy and I know what’s unhealthy. I eat both healthy and unhealthy food all the time. Assigning a label of “bad” or “good” to food is when it becomes emotional eating for me. If I eat ice cream, that’s being bad, but I feel good doing it because it’s yummy, so then I feel bad for feeling good. Why can’t I just feel good about enjoying myself on occasion?

I know what it feels like to feel unhealthy. I eat unhealthy food and I feel unhealthy afterward. I spend a weekend sitting on my couch watching TV and not doing anything else, and come Monday morning I’m winded just getting down the stairs. On the other hand, when I eat healthy food, watch my calories and macros, and workout every day, I feel healthy and that feels good.

A few people have asked me why I picked Whole 30, and the answer is mainly just to feel healthy again and remember what that feels like. After the wedding, I haven’t been able to regain control over my healthy habits. I’m treating the Whole 30 as a reset button for my body. Some people have the ability to just cut back, but I need something a little more regimented.

I’m keeping the cookie in my desk drawer the entire 30 days.  It’s going to be rancid by the end of that, I know, but it’s symbolic of accountability. If anyone were to ask me about the cookie between now and April 27, I’ll be able to snap a picture of the cookie and show them that yes, I’m still on track.

On a side note, if anyone is interested in doing the Whole 30 with me, I would love the company. I’m starting Monday, the day after Easter, so you can get your Peeps kick in one last time. We can start our own little support group along the way. To learn more, check out whole30.com and message me so I can keep track.

nacho cheese and glory.

Posted on by thedingismything

The greatest thing ever happened to me at lunch today. It was glorious. Unquestionably, a crowning moment for what’s been arguably a rough week. (And it’s only Tuesday….)

First I have to explain that, like so many others, my relationship with food and money is highly driven by emotion. To celebrate good news or a happy occasion, I like to go out and drop a good chunk of money on a delicious meal. On the other hand, when I feel like shit, I tend to decide that I’m not worthy of the price of a healthy meal, so I go out and get whatever cheap ass garbage I can shame-eat in my car over a 30-minute lunch.

Like today.

I made a conscious decision that I deserved a lunch that cost no more than $5, since I didn’t leave myself enough time to pack a healthy lunch at home this morning. So for the first time in a year, at least, I drove through Del Taco. For $4 on the button, I got two chicken soft tacos and nachos. The chicken soft tacos at least had some protein (just as much fat, too, unfortunately). The nachos were because nachos.

I could have spent $7 and gone to Subway for a sandwich with much fewer calories and half the fat. I could have gone to the market and put together a salad at the salad bar for about the same price. But around 11:45 am today I was too busy hating myself for every imaginable reason to think logically about the situation.

So there I was, sitting in my car. Just me and my Del Taco. I was just about to put the last perfect chip, smothered with a giant glob of heavenly (although now somewhat tepid) artificial cheese in my mouth. And then, it happened.

All in one second’s time, gust of wind blew through my lowered car window, sending my unruly hair into further frenzy and planting a section of it firmly in the nacho cheese. This, as it my hand is in the process of delivering the crunchy cheesey hairy vessel into my waiting open mouth.

But wait – it gets better.

The momentum of the situation was unstoppable. My brain processed and accepted that I was about to spend the rest of the day with sticky nacho cheese hair, just as I looked up and made direct eye contact with a jogger running along the sidewalk toward my car.

A really pretty, perfectly fit jogger.

Crunch.

The moral of the story, kids, is that just when you think you’re at your lowest and things couldn’t get any worse, go eat a salad.

fat. broke. bitch.

Posted on by thedingismything

That’s what I’ve been calling myself for the last few days. Angry much? Bitter? No, not at all.

Let’s just take a minute to look at a picture of doughnuts, shall we?

IMG_20151023_083857

There. I feel better already.

Back to being angry and bitter. The truth is that I’m actually really happy. I mean, I eat pretty much whatever I want, and I’ve spent a ton of money surrounding myself with things I love. How could I be anything but delighted?

The problem is that I eat pretty much whatever I want, and I’ve spent a ton of money surrounding myself with things I love. So my weight is – while not at an all-time high – getting up there. And my credit card debt is, well, it’s uncomfortable for me to talk about. (Read: FML)

About six years ago, I started a blog (find it here!) as a means of coping with how sad and frustrated I had become dating in Los Angeles. The funny thing was that it really helped. Forcing myself to find humor in story after story about first dates that were so unbelievably awful made me realize that I wasn’t the only one still looking for a happy ending. Each post was so therapeutic to write, it was almost like that saying, “gonna wash that man right out of my hair” (sweet baby Jesus, please tell me people know that phrase) but with words instead. It was like a cleansing ritual. Each time a hopeful relationship went down the shitter, once the words were on the screen I was able to lift my head up and move on to the next one.

Until there were no more next ones. In January, I married the man of my dreams (ding!), had a fairy tale wedding to match (ding!), and went on the most amazing honeymoon I could imagine (ding!). And now, I’m still paying for it.

I gained eight pounds during our wedding and honeymoon. That is darn close to a pound a day. When we got back home, I learned what it means when people say someone is still in the honeymoon phase. I’m not talking about sexy time. I’m talking about getting back to a normal lifestyle. You know. Not drinking in the middle of the day because why not. Not eating at restaurants for every meal. Not sleeping in instead of waking up to get my ass to the gym.

All of it caught up with me this week. Monday morning I got on the scale and it was TEN WHOLE POUNDS above my weight the day before my wedding. I’m not going to lie. It’s hard for me to find anything funny to say about that. But wait – it gets better.

We paid rent, car insurance, and our wedding/honeymoon credit card bill all in the same week. So at one point, when I went to look at my bank account, I had $7.31 in my checking account. My (big fat) grown-ass had seven dollars and thirty-one cents to spare.

And THAT is why I posted the picture of the doughnuts.

They’re so pretty. And delicious. Look at ‘em. They taste soooo good and make me sooooo happy that I forget that just a couple days ago, I could only afford to buy just one or two of those tasty treats before my debit card would have been declined. Plus I’ve been fighting an inner struggle with myself all day long not to eat one.

It’s a vicious circle. I feel fat and broke. It makes me sad. When I’m sad, I either eat or shop. Eating and shopping make me fat and broke. Rinse and repeat.

I’m not going to be publishing any numbers here, people. At least not yet. Not while I’m wearing this shroud of shame. (Shame Shroud is playing the side stage at Coachella this year, btw.) Here’s what I will do. I’m going to go on some crazy diets, and tell you all about how much it sucks. I’m going to find ways to cut back on spending so that maybe I can pay off my credit cards and actually have a shot at owning a home in this lifetime. And throughout the whole process, I’m going to complain. A lot.

It’ll be really funny. I swear.

P.S. I just ate a mini-bag of Cool Ranch Dorito’s.