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?

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.