I am le sad. Why, you ask? Well, “The Downfall of 2011,” which I fittingly refer to as the last three months of 2011, slapped me in the face this past weekend as I stood on Mom’s Jenny Craig scale. F my t’s. Jenny Craig is a lying batch. Or is she… I’m not the svelte gym whore I used to be, and I’m ok with that. However, this physical condition I’m currently dealing with is just over the top. Literally fifteen pounds over the top of my jeans.
My physical activity level dropped to a post-college low this past fall. Consequently, I’m almost back to my college weight, which peaked during my days of frequent Ramen “snacks”, liquor dinners (which always led to Ramen snacks), and thrice times daily dessert. After I dropped my YWCA membership in August, I figured that as long as I was eating “right” I didn’t need to work out six days a week like I had during The Meltdown 2011. That’s when the silent and consistent descent into flubby hell began…
F you, November and December! I jumped on the “I’m going to enjoy the holiday season and eat whatever I want!” train…which then turned into a barge. *See Exhibit A for details.
F you, elastic waistband clothing! Are blue tarps on the spring 2012 fashion trend radar?
F you, sedentary job! You make me miss retail for the sole reason that I got to stand on my feet for eight hours a day. Now, my butt is shaped like a chair and I have carpel tunnel. Gross.
F you, almonds! “Think of all the protein I’m eating!”… Well, I don’t think “fistful” is an appropriate serving size for anything not green.
F you, Ellen! It’s mostly (all the way) your own damn fault.
In all my shameful glory, I did something that any self-respecting and newly self-aware flubbster would do – I bought a plush zip-up housecoat from Sam’s Club, stopped at Taco John’s for dinner, tried on my favorite pair of jeans, cried, and took painfully awkward photos, and then joined a gym.
“I’ve never seen you wear those jeans before. Have you ever fit into them?” Molly snorted in my post-struggle humiliation.
“Of course I have! These are my favorite jeans, MOLL-AY. I used to wear them all the time. Well, I haven’t worn jeans since 2010, so maybe that’s why you don’t recognize them…and why I don’t fit in them either,” I retorted back.
WARNING! The following montage is slightly graphic and grotesquely embarrassing (update: I decided to crop about 98% of each photo in order to curb grossing myself out too much). I wore a paper bag over my face to: one, prove I’m not a “paper bagger,” and two, to hide my contorted, tear-streaked face as I tried to button my favorite pair of jeans.
How many muffin tops can you count?
Are seasonal rollercoasters of fitness/fatness (a.k.a. goombaness) an inevitable pattern for the rest of my life? Are tarps really one size fits all? Is pizza really a vegetable? Does kegeling for 30 minutes a day count as physical activity? All questions the world may never know the answers to…
*Exhibit A – Sweets Consumed by Ellen in December 2011
Multiple chunks of Pearson’s Salted Nut Roll slab*Sugar cookies*Truffles – dark chocolate, peppermint, coffee, white chocolate*Cranberry malt*Ben & Jerry’s Schweddy Balls ice cream (full pint)*Pirouette wafer tube things*Hersey Kisses*Cranberry almond cookie with gross plastic chocolate on the bottom*Apple pie*Ghirardelli squares*More truffles*A Tom & Jerry (with booze, duh*Carmelcorn*Marble cake*Black licorice*Coconut toffee cookies*Chocolate chip oatmeal cookies (with and without walnuts)*Yule log cake (Fack. So good.)*Grandma’s pecan pie*Crappy holiday chocolates in the shape of Santas and ornaments*Pecan Delights*Fudge*Peanut brittle*Muddy Paws*Oatmeal peanut butter cookies*Molasses cookies – two different kinds*Peanut butter blossoms*Pistachio salad*Butterscotch things – Rice Krispies covered in butterscotch/peanut butter*More truffles
Jealous much? Well, don’t be. I didn’t even consume a Russian teacake…my favorite fucking holiday cookie. If I could, I would trade back every sweet I ate in December in exchange for one giant, extra dense Russian teacake.
Hearts + Farts
** Goomba = reference to the shape of my midriff.