Why Karen?

I keep seeing the Karen memes and tweets. Everywhere you turn it’s, “Way to go, Karen,” or “Do you want to talk to the manager, Karen?” Why Karen? What age demographic are people trying to hit with this insult? I always thought they were going for the 40 year olds, maybe early 50s. I’m 51 and I don’t know very many Karens. I can think of two off the top of my head. I had to check my Facebook friends list and it turns out I have three of them on my list, so bump that number up to five! I know a lot of Jennifers though. Also, a lot of Angies and Stacys. And quite a few Julies and/or Julias, now that I think about it. Amy is another popular one.

Rarely known fact: I was this close to being named Heather. It was between my actual name and Heather. My mom said at the last minute she decided she was going to go with Heather but then my dad showed up with a gift that read: To Baby Sam. So Sam it was. I was so damn close to having a normal name.

The meme makes me think they’re going a little younger than the 60s generation, and while it does have a point I think if you’re going to generalize an entire generation the smarter bet would have been on Jennifer. It was the top baby girl name from 1970-1984. Fourteen years, folks! So far no other name has matched the popularity or staying power of Jennifer. Like I asked in the beginning, how old is this Karen? 30s? 40s? 50s? If she’s anywhere from 36-50 she really should be called Jennifer. Maybe even Jen.

Perhaps they’re reaching even further back- 1969 and earlier. That may very well be, but the number one baby name in 1969 was Lisa. Followed by Michelle, Jennifer, Kimberly, and Melissa. Surprisingly Amy came in at #6. I thought it would be higher. Rounding out the top ten were Angela, Mary, Tammy, and Laura. To be fair Karen did come in at #13. 

After doing some research (aka Googling the top baby names for 1960-1969) it turns out the insult may have some teeth behind it, depending upon how old this Karen is. As it turns out Karen was actually a fairly popular name in the early part of the 60s. Early, being the operative word. It wasn’t Jennifer popular but it was the 4th most popular name of the 1960s.

It peaked at #3 in 1965 and held onto the #4 spot in 1960, ’62, ’63, and ’64. It was #5 in popularity in 1961 and 1966, and then slid to #6 in 1967 and down to #9 in 1968. As I said previously, it came in at #13 in 1969. Like I said, it was no Jennifer.

I’m back to asking: How old is Karen? if she was born in the 60s Lisa was the overall #1 girl name, followed by Mary and Susan. Wouldn’t it make more sense to use one of those names instead of the #4 name? Maybe Karen is always in such a pissy mood because her name came in at #4 instead of #1. But we don’t hear anything about bad attitudes from Kimberly, Patricia, Linda, Donna, Michelle, or Cynthia, do we? Those were #5-10 in case you were wondering.

And if she is younger, born sometime in the 1970s, you would be better off calling her Jennifer (of course!), Amy, Melissa, Michelle, or Kimberly. Lisa dropped to #6 in the 70s. Heather, btw, was #8.

I think Karen is more popular now than it was in its heyday beck in the 60s! Way to go, Karen.

A Question To Ponder

Editor’s Note: Obviously this was written a few days before Christmas, but the question still stands.

I know it’s all things Christmas right now, but I had this question pop into my head and it’s really been bugging me.

If Michael Myers supposedly has super human strength and is practically immortal then why doesn’t he just break out of the mental institution? Why does he always need to wait until he’s being transported on a dark Halloween night? Why can’t he just take out a few guards and walk right out to freedom any damn time he chooses? He doesn’t need to wait until a bus crashes or he’s able to steal a car.

I thought maybe it came down to being medicated but that doesn’t really work for me either. If they know they need to medicate him why wouldn’t they be sure to medicate him when they know he’s going outside the institution’s walls? That’s basic common sense right there, although I will concede it doesn’t make for a very long movie.

I’m going to get back to all things Christmas. I’ve got a quartet of Christmas in Evergreen movies to watch and I’m going to occupy myself with those. In the meantime, if any of you have an answer to my question I’d love to hear it.

The Chipmunk Song

What is it with that guy on that Christmas song? Is his name Dave? I know it’s Dave in the movies; not sure it’s ever mentioned in the song.

First thing you hear as the song begins is him asking each adorable chipmunk if he’s ready. 

Okay, Simon? 


Okay, Theodore? 


Okay, Alvin? Alvin? ALVIN!!!  

What is this guy’s fucking problem? He’s screaming at a poor little chipmunk. What has Alvin really done? It’s not like he’s goofing off. He’s simply not responding as quickly as his two suck up brothers. Dave calls him twice and then he loses his damn mind. Why is he yelling at him and what is with his short fuse? He seems like a horrible manager.

Has he ever thought that maybe if he talked to Alvin in a nicer tone of voice Alvin might be a bit more responsive? Alvin might be more inclined to pay attention and give his best efforts towards this Christmas song. I don’t blame him for not wanting to work with that jerk or for not paying attention.

Then he does it again- after insulting him! He compliments Simon and Theodore (That was very good, Simon; that was very good, Theodore!) but tells Alvin he was a little flat, and when Alvin doesn’t immediately tell him he’s so sorry about his failings as a singing chipmunk he yells at him AGAIN! Alvin. Alvin! ALVIN!!!

Whenever I listen to this at work I get irritated with him every single time. Stop yelling at him! Maybe if he treated him with a little bit of respect and kindness he wouldn’t have these issues with Alvin. I think we all respond better to constructive criticism instead of screaming and yelling.

At the end of the song, when he’s telling them they’ve sang enough and need to rest, it sounds like the chipmunks are getting ready to attack him. They are chattering up a storm. Now, maybe it’s just Alvin. Or maybe Alvin has finally galvanized his brothers to rally around him. I don’t know. What I do know is I wouldn’t want to be that guy that spent the day yelling at poor little Alvin. Because it sounds like they’re really pissed. And we all know the last thing you want is a pissed off chipmunk. I’m solidly rooting for Alvin if it comes to that.


I’m struggling a bit with this weigh loss challenge. Last week you may remember I was ready to eat a cheeseburger because I had only lost 1 pound by Thursday morning. Friday came and I weighed in at 2.8 pounds less than the week before. This past week was even worse. By Thursday morning the scale still had not budged. When I weighed in Friday morning I was down a whole .8 pound. Not 8 pounds. There’s a decimal point before that 8. 8/10 of a pound is what I lost. And yesterday when I stepped on the scales? I was up more than a pound! Today I still weighed in a whole pound heavier than what I weighed on Friday.

You know, I get that I didn’t put this on overnight and I won’t take it off overnight. But goddammit, I have been working my ass off and to not even lose a pound? That’s bullshit. Why the fuck am I restricting myself if that’s going to be my payoff?

I am nowhere close to the point where I am comfortable plateauing.Talk to me in another 25-30 pounds… sure, I can hang out at that weight for a little bit. But now? No.

I ran 14.5 miles last week. Five on Sunday, 4.5 on Tuesday, 3 on Thursday, and 2 on Friday. In fact, I got up at 6 in the morning so that I could run before work, thinking maybe that would help my metabolism.

I have been sticking with my low carb diet. Jesus Christ, I have a half a cup of cottage cheese for lunch most days. That’s my main dish. There may be a hard boiled egg or a piece or two of cheese. I’m not gorging on Wendy’s cheeseburgers or chicken sandwiches. I don’t eat the croutons that come on my salad. I threw away the potato chips that came with my cheeseburger. I count carbs on everything before I stick it in my mouth. I drink coffee with sweetener only in it instead of loading it up with flavored creamer. I haven’t had a sandwich in 8 weeks. I drink lukewarm water out of the tap because we aren’t allowed to have a working ice machine and I’m already loaded up like a pack mule every goddamn day when I go into work. It sucks.

Last week I thought maybe I wasn’t eating enough so I tried to shake it up this week. I did end up ordering a cheeseburger twice from a restaurant. No bun. The first time I tried the lettuce wrap trick. Didn’t work. Burned my fingers. The second time I just used a fork and a knife. I know ketchup is high in carbs so I limit myself to one packet. I had a taco salad one day. Just lettuce, taco meat, sour cream, taco sauce, and cheese. We’d had tacos the night before so I brought the leftovers in. The other two days it was cottage cheese and hard boiled eggs.

I planned on having biscuits and gravy for breakfast this weekend. And pizza for dinner. Maybe some cake. Hell, if I’m not going to lose, or worse yet, I’m going to gain, after denying myself I may as well eat whatever the hell I want on weekends. Oh, only lost a half a pound? Not surprised. I ate like a pig over the weekend.

Instead despite being so pissed and disappointed that I was actually weighing in on Saturday morning at a higher weight I still got up and ran. I did 3.25 miles. I came home and had five pieces of bacon for breakfast. I had tuna fish salad for lunch, and steak, salad, and broccoli for dinner.

I had a bacon and cheese omelette for breakfast on Sunday, had an Atkins bar for lunch, and ate wings for dinner. I’m still debating whether or not I’m going to get up before work and run, if I’ll run after work, or if I’ll just take two full days off.

I’m trying to push through this. I’m trying to stay the course and tell myself that this coming Friday is a new day. I’m trying very hard not to let this get me down. But I’ve gotta be honest. If I weigh in at the same weight on Friday I’m saying, “Fuck it all.” I am not going to deny myself for another year or more with no results. I’m tired of never enjoying what I eat. I’m tired of having to pick the breading off of chicken my mom makes because I can’t eat carbs. I’m tired of having to go over everything with a fine tooth comb in order to make sure I stay under 30 net carbs. I’m tired of opening the refrigerator and seeing it full of things I can’t eat because I’m only one person in this household and I’m not going to restrict everyone else. I’m tired of not being able to grab something mindlessly and munch on it. I’m tired of never being able to have a piece of cake or enjoy a flavored coffee or grab a muffin or eat a cheeseburger and fries or pizza. I miss sushi. I miss Chinese food. I’m not doing it if there’s no payoff.

I know that in order for a “diet” to succeed you actually need to implement a lifestyle change. You can’t go back to eating the way you’ve always eaten. That’s why my long term plan has been to closely watch my carbs during the week, and allow myself whatever I want on the weekends. I wasn’t planning on pigging out every weekend but being able to go out to dinner and have pizza or pasta would be nice. Being able to have a glass of wine or stop at a winery for samples and appetizers would be divine. I’d like to have hash browns occasionally. Maybe a waffle. So, weekends would be my chance to indulge. I have remained diligent even on the weekends throughout this because I’m not at the maintenance stage yet.

Let me be clear on something else. I’m not eating stuff I hate. But it is definitely more difficult to follow a low carb diet when you’re outside of the house working. If I don’t get up in time to pack my lunch I have nothing to eat. Choices are pretty limited at the few restaurants that are still open. I don’t particularly enjoy eating a cheeseburger with a fork. I don’t want to order a salad from Subway; I don’t like them from Subway. I’m tired of the chicken Cobb salad at the cafe I sometimes go to; they usually mess it up somehow anyway.

I’m not going away hungry but I’m also not ever thinking, “Oh my God! That was amazing. I am so satisfied.” No, it’s more like, “I ate something that I didn’t detest. No, I’m not hungry but I wouldn’t have chosen that if I weren’t on this diet, or lifestyle change. Let me shovel this cottage cheese down my throat and wait for the next weigh in.” Seriously. I rarely enjoy my food. I don’t hate it. I don’t make myself eat stuff that I don’t like. But I don’t enjoy it and I would never say that I’m satisfied.

I can make that sacrifice as long as I am making progress and achieving my goals. I find it very difficult to keep going when I’m not making progress and my goals keep getting farther and farther in the distance. That is what’s happening right now.

I also know I have no accurate measurements from before. I can tell you how much I weighed in December of 2015 after I got off the divorce diet. I can tell you what I weighed in May or June of 2018. I can tell you what I weighed from August 2019 through December 2019. But I have no idea how much I weighed once I could finally eat again. I have no idea how much I weighed when I moved back to Indiana. I have no idea how much I weighed when I was working two jobs. I have no idea how much I weighed when I met the mobster. I have no idea how much I weighed on my last day in the banking center. There’s a good three years in there that are lost.

I know that I would like to lose a minimum of another 50 pounds and at a rate of .8 pounds lost per week, that’s going to take over a year. A year! That is ridiculous, especially considering how strict I have been.

If I’m popping cookies into my mouth once or twice a week, stopping for a Starbucks coffee, and indulging in pizza once a week? Sure. Less than a pound a week sounds great. When I’m having a half a cup of cottage cheese and a hard boiled egg for lunch every day, eliminating pasta, bread, potatoes and rice, eating a piece of meat and a vegetable every night for dinner, and running 3-4 days a week? No. Less than a pound is not acceptable. Less than two pounds isn’t acceptable. I’d better see some fucking fantastic results for that kind of dedication.

I was hoping to be about 10 pounds lighter when I finally get to see the mobster at the end of this month. I was hoping I would be able to reach the 20% body weight loss goal for the weight loss challenge. At the rate I’m going I’m not going to reach either of those goals. I made both of those goals when I was losing at least 2.5 pounds a week. In the last two weeks I’ve lost 2.6 pounds. If I keep this up I’m not sure I’m going to hit the 15% mark either. I still have to lose 8 pounds to reach that one; I’ve got 8 weeks. If I keep losing like I am I will have only lost 6 pounds by the time it’s over.

I’m done bitching. I’m going to focus on my carb loaded menu for next weekend, starting with Friday’s lunch. Meatball sub from Subway.

UPDATE: No, I haven’t suddenly dropped 5 pounds. I am only .2 pounds heavier than I was on weigh in day so that’s… progress.

No, I’m done with my temper tantrum. I’m still pissed but I’m letting it go. I had my Jimmy Dean egg frittatas this morning, took in a cup of coffee with my sweetener in it, threw an Arctic cup filled with ice in my lunch bag, and had tuna fish salad and an Atkins bar for lunch. I drank cold water all day today, some of it flavored with peach and mango Crystal Light, and came home and ran 4 miles. I was only going to do three; I don’t know what comes over me but I get a wild hair up my ass and do things I don’t expect to do.

Yes, I’m discouraged that the weight is not coming off; however, I know the scales don’t tell you everything. My daughter is home (yippee!) and she is cautioning me getting into the “diet culture” and focusing on my weight. I was walking around today, wearing my fat pants and realizing that they are almost too big to wear anymore.

I bought them and 2 other pairs when I got tired of wearing dresses all the time because all of my damn pants were too tight. My gray pair have always been a little looser than the first black pair. The first black pair is one size up from what I normally take in that brand. The second black pair is two sizes up. I bought them because I couldn’t find two pairs of black pants in the size I wanted. So the fat fat pants are definitely too big. The gray fat pants are getting to the point I’m a little afraid they might fall off of me. Not sure about the black fat pants. They’ve always been a little tighter. I know they’re looser but I’m not sure if they’re at the falling off of me point.

I’m hoping that even if the scale isn’t moving that changes are happening. My daughter assures me that it’s normal to plateau for a week or two and then you begin to lose again. I’m hoping that’s what happens to me because these last two weeks have sucked. Excuse me. They’ve been very disappointing.

Just keep swimming, I tell myself.

Death and Taxes

I finally did it. I broke down and did my taxes last night. I’ve been in a bad mood ever since. Like, “What am I doing with my life?” bad mood. So really we’re not going to talk so much about death; we will mostly focus on taxes and why they’re so stupid and I hate them.

Last year, or rather 2018, I “earned” approximately $25,000 more than I did this year. I put earned in quotation marks because more than half of my income came from spousal support. Jerry Lee paid in full each month and in addition to that he paid a hefty amount in back support from 2017. Yet somehow I got a small refund of approximately $600 back last year and this year I owe the federal government. It’s not a lot- $280, maybe? But still! How do I count $25,000 less in income and owe them money?

More importantly my actual earned income went up slightly (very slightly- less than $2000) while my non-taxed income went down significantly. I note that only because it means I was paying the same as or more in payroll taxes as I did last year, while receiving a lot less non-taxed income.

I don’t get the child tax credit for my son anymore because he turned 17 last year but that’s only $2500. Hmmm…. $2500 less in deductions/credits versus $25,000 less in income? I would think I should still be ahead.

I did withdraw $3800 from my IRA so that brings the difference in income down to around $20,000. I did, however, pay taxes on that money. I did not receive the full $3800. My finance guy withdrew the $3800 so I could get the money I needed and the rest went to pay the taxes. I did have to pay an additional $380 penalty but again… versus $20,000 in lost income?

I suppose the good news is that I only owe the state a little over $800 this year as opposed to the $2200 I had to pay last year.

I try to be thankful. I try to be rational. I see TurboTax do that initial refund. Every year after I put in my information from my W-2 they tell me it’s going to be my biggest year ever. Every year that tax refund shows up as over $6000. Then I put my alimony in and it drops like a rock. Apparently even more so this year than last year when he paid me $25,000 less.

I’ve been trying to tell myself that even if I’m not one of those single moms out there getting a hefty tax refund like everyone seems to think we get I should be thankful I get spousal support. A lot of people don’t. I tell myself that if I do a comparison analysis I’m still coming out ahead. I can take the $6400 or $6700 tax refund once a year and stretch it, or I can take a monthly payment which will surpass that amount in a matter of months, and put some aside for taxes. What’s $1000 in exchange for what I’m getting each month?

Then I look into the future. A future where I’m only claiming single because both of my kids are no longer dependents. And I panic. If I’m paying this much in taxes already when I still have two dependents how much am I going to have to come up with when it’s just me? I’m envisioning having to pay $5,000-$6,000 to the federal government. God only knows how much I’ll have to pay the state! At that point it becomes almost ridiculous to even receive spousal support. I’ll be paying 30-40% of it back to the damn government.

It’s so frustrating. Back when I was married and we were living on six figures we got a tax refund every year. He upped the exemptions because he was tired of getting a $5000 refund each year; he didn’t want to give the government a free loan. We still got around $1500 back. Now I live on a fraction of that and I PAY every year. I may not always pay the federal government but I definitely pay the state.

Realistically I know that he paid a shit ton of taxes. His bonus check was taxed at 39%. That was a huge part of it. He paid enough into Medicare, I believe it was, that he got a mini “raise” mid-year because they didn’t take any more out.

It all makes me hate him even more. He couldn’t have pulled this shit when the kids were younger. Oh no! Had to wait until they were 15 and 13 to pull this crap. That way when I finally had to start filing taxes on my own I could have an adventure every year! It’s never the same thing twice. One year I get both kids as a tax credit. The next year I only get one. Then I get none!

The first year I had no job until October 31st but everyone had their hand out, wanting to get paid on the massive $23,000 I received in spousal support the first 5 months of the year. I went through that and every penny I had in savings trying to stay afloat after he lost his job and declined to send any money to help support his kids for the next ten months.

The second year I finally had a full time job AND a part time job through August, but he wasn’t paying regular support. And then he paid a large amount of back support.

The third year he paid support regularly and again paid back support, while the fourth year he shorted me almost $11,000. Years three and four I only had the one full time job.

Next year my son graduates. He has no plans to go on to college so I’m expecting he’ll get a full time job and probably want to start claiming himself. A year after that my daughter will graduate from college. I’ll be filing single and getting fucked every year when it comes to taxes. Hooray!

It enrages me, too, because not only did he wait until my life was practically over to pull this shit but also he gets a nice big tax refund every year because he gets to deduct all of that spousal support. So while he and Harley bring home over $200,000 a year at this point they get a substantial refund every year. Meanwhile, little ol’ me, with my huge $60,000, will be paying as much as they’re receiving. What utter bullshit.

For the first time in my life I’m actually saving money. My mother would be so proud. I have frequently said I know what to do with money; I just don’t do it. As I’ve said before I am currently saving all of the child support I receive so that when he stops paying it next June I’m not suddenly floundering, trying to figure out how to live on $900 less per month. When I began I wasn’t saving the full child support amount because he wasn’t paying full spousal support. I saved enough that I was still only using my salary plus the full amount of spousal support. Honestly, I was feeling pretty good about that. He’s been paying full spousal support for a couple of months so I’ve been able to save even more.

Today as I was driving to work I decided I needed to open yet another account to set aside money for taxes. If I have to pay the kind of money I think I’m going to have to pay I may as well start setting aside even more money and not allowing myself to think that I can use all of the spousal support. I mean, I don’t let myself get down to a few pennies in my checking account. Hell, it’s been a while since I’ve even been down to a few hundred dollars; I like to keep a cushion. But nonetheless, instead of thinking, “Okay, I’ve got this much left over!” I’m trying to think, “i’ve got to put this aside and this aside and this.” Because let’s face it, once child support ends the biggest part of my savings is going to evaporate. I’m already going to have to put a big chunk (well, 20% or so) of spousal support aside for taxes. I probably should also set aside some more for car repairs, Christmas gifts, vacations, etc.

See? I’m not just whining. I’m being proactive. I think my next proactive step is going to be looking for another job. I can’t keep doing this. I need a job where I make more than I receive in spousal support. That’s the only way I’m going to keep my tax bill down. I’m already paying as much in taxes as I can. I take zero exemptions and it’s still not enough.

Furthermore, I found out the other day that my company has put a freeze on raises. My boss was planning on making me a higher grade in May, which is Friday. At this point it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen. I don’t know how long this raise freeze will last. I do know our profits are down by about 25% and if this shelter in place crap keeps going on much longer I’m sure we’ll suffer even bigger losses and once we’re finally all allowed to come out they still won’t allow raises because they didn’t make as much money as they wanted.

My co-worker who was also supposed to get this raise told me she had heard the raise is rather substantial, but I’m not going to wait another year for it, especially if that means I won’t be made a Rep II until my next review. I’ll end up getting that as my raise instead of getting a raise and then getting a promotion. No thank you. If I can find something that will pay me what I would be making with the raise I’ll leave in a heartbeat. I’m tired of not making enough money to support myself and my kids. I’ve got a goddamn college education, which my company constantly pushes. They are always urging people to go back to school and they even offer tuition reimbursement if it’s for a degree you could use working for them. I have a work history including the years before I made the mistake of staying at home. And I’m a fucking fantastic worker. I deserve to make enough to live on.

End of rant.


If you are a parent and you’ve had to fill this ridiculous thing out I salute you. It always takes me at least an hour to do what should take me 10-15 minutes tops.

This year was no different. We started off with the username and password from last year not being correct. So I had to first change my username. Then find out my password wasn’t correct. Change my password. Then find out I can’t even get to the fucking site because my browser isn’t compatible. I updated that three or four times. Still couldn’t get in. Then I finally get in and I can’t upload my tax information to her form. Of course I can’t! Why would anything go smoothly? I then spend almost an hour looking up my tax information from 2018. Thank God for that interstate meeting that never went anywhere back in September.

All of this hell and my guess is, after asking me how much I received in child support (Child support? Really?) and how much I currently have in the bank and then needing to give them my adjusted gross earnings for 2018 I’m fucked. No, my daughter is fucked. I would be surprised if they even offer her loans this coming year.

I swear to God before this is all over I’m going to march into that financial aid office and tell them to take her goddamn name off their call lists. She doesn’t need to give that fucking a school another dime once she graduates. She gave them all their money upfront. Call all the kids you gave a free ride to; leave my kid the fuck alone!

Covid-19 and Long Distance Relationships

I realize I have a lot to be grateful for. So far no one in my family is sick. My friends are all healthy. I’m still working which means I’m still bringing home a paycheck. I’ve got food in the cupboards and freezers, I’ve got dog food to feed the three dogs, and I’ve got plenty of toilet paper (not a hoarder- I just always tend to buy the bigger packs of toilet paper because I don’t want to have to run out and buy more any sooner than necessary).

I’m still going to say it: This Covid-19 virus sucks. I know the following is all selfish but I need to get it out. Our race has been canceled. Originally I was going to drive to Virginia anyway- leave Thursday after work, stay at a hotel, and then finish up the drive on Friday. With the recent stay at home orders by Indiana, Ohio, and West Virginia governors I don’t think it’s a really good idea to drive to Virginia. The mobster and I didn’t see each other at all in March because we decided we would wait until the race weekend. That was already going to mean we didn’t get to see each other for 6 weeks. Now God only knows how long it will be before we are finally able to see each other again.

I have a court date in the middle of the week in July and as of right now I have 4 1/2 days of vacation left to schedule (well, 5 1/2 since I rescinded my day in April to go to Virginia for the race). I have 2 choices. I can take a half day off on Tuesday, drive all the way to my former city, spend the night in a hotel, go to court and leave right after so that I’m able to be back to work on Thursday. I can keep my vacation time in May over Memorial Day weekend, use a day and a half and still have 3 days left. Yet, that trip sounds like torture. Not only do I not wish to drive 9 1/2 hours on Tuesday followed by another 9 1/2 drive on Wednesday after a court hearing, but also I hate the idea of being only a few hours away from the mobster and not being able to see him. Or, I cancel my vacation at the end of May so that I can take it in July instead. And go to court in the middle of said vacation. Why don’t I take those 5 days I have in July? Because I don’t want to use all my vacation time by July (save for the one day I have scheduled after Thanksgiving).

Hell, who knows if we’ll even be free to travel by Memorial Day weekend? Maybe my court date will be rescheduled to an even later date. Everything is up in the air.

All I know for certain is that I won’t be seeing the mobster for more than six weeks. I don’t really see them lifting the travel bans and stay at home orders until May at the earliest so we’re going to end up being apart for more than two months.

I know military spouses deal with year long deployments. I’m sure there are other situations out there where couples have been separated for long periods of time. Hopefully it won’t be a fucking year before we see each other again. Here’s the thing though- I’m not a military spouse. I don’t have a husband who travels for work and is away frequently. No, I have a long distance boyfriend that I get to see every two weeks if I’m extremely lucky; it’s usually more like every 3-4 weeks lately. This is my life and I think I’ve adjusted pretty damn well, especially considering the whiners that complain they only get to see each other on the weekends or they have to drive a whole 45 minutes or an hour or two to see one another.

Boo-fucking-hoo. Try driving 5 1/2 hours just to meet halfway. Try regularly only getting to see each other every 2-4 weeks, and since you’re already driving 5 1/2 hours to meet in the middle and you’ve got a job where you can’t take off in the middle of the day unless you’ve got the vacation time, that means you get literally one full day with this person in that 2-4 week period. One. A few hours Friday night. A full day Saturday. A half day on Sunday.

I know. I know. I chose this. I chose it the moment we began talking, the moment I agreed to let him come up to take me out to dinner, the moment we began video chatting. I chose it when I told him I loved him instead of walking away because the distance was too great.

Don’t get me wrong. He’s definitely worth it. I adore him. We have an amazing time when we’re together. I’m simply irritated. Irritated my plans are being interrupted. Irritated that I won’t get to see the mobster for another 4-6 weeks at best. Irritated by all the people on Facebook advising everyone to stay home and those who act like everyone is under quarantine- reading books, binging on Netflix, sleeping in, and eating bad food.

I’d love to be home. I’d love to be doing all those things. Instead, I go to work every day. I come home and I run three days out of the week. I’m still following low carb so I’m not gorging myself on cookie dough or potato chips or any other kind of comfort food. On one hand my life is going on like before. On the other hand I’m in a completely different building. I have to walk from a parking lot two blocks away to get to the office. Snow? Rain? Oh well, bundle up! Carry an umbrella. I ride up a glass elevator to the eighth floor and do my best to not look because my fear of heights gets worse as I get older and I’m afraid I’m going to hurl. They are limiting the number of people in the elevators to four people at a time and there are actually charts on the floor where we’re supposed to stand. We’re not allowed off of our floor. The break rooms have been shut down so I have to get back on that damn elevator and walk two blocks back to my car so that I can eat in my car. There’s a rumor they are going to limit the number of people allowed in the bathroom at one time to two. There are only three fucking stalls to begin with!

My Wednesday dinners with friends are no more. At least not until the restaurants are allowed to open again. My race is canceled. I have no idea when I’m going to get to see my mobster again. Maybe late April. Maybe May. Maybe June. Hell, I’ll just keep canceling vacation days and then it won’t matter that I’ve got court in the middle of July.

I’m irritated with all of it. I realize it’s all for the greater good. I don’t want anybody getting sick. I also realize that there are others who have had much bigger plans derailed- graduating seniors who have seen their senior year go up in smoke with no prom, no graduation, no spring sports, no final spring musical, athletes who thought they would be participating in the Olympics this summer, my sweet co-worker who will probably be delaying her retirement at the end of the year because of the hit her 401k has suffered, all the people who are out of work, wondering how they’re going to pay their bills, people who have fallen ill and died. At the same time I’d like to see the mobster more than 3 times this year. It’s not looking real good.

My friend, Sweet J, who is always trying to look on the bright side said to me, “It will make it that much sweeter when you finally do see each other again.” Yeah. Sure. That’s how I’m looking at it. Thank God I don’t get to see him for 12 weeks! Our time together is so much more precious than those who get to see each other all the time. Praise Jesus we’re not like all those losers who are together 24/7. Suffering through all these obstacles have made us a much stronger couple than any of those people who actually get to see each other on a daily or weekly basis.

Hell, I think everyone should get themselves into a long distance relationship. I’m not talking an hour or two away. That doesn’t count. That’s like having a spouse that travels for work. You get to do what you want during the week and then on the weekends, like clockwork, you’re together. Nope, you need a long distance relationship where you are at least 4 hours away, and I think that’s being generous. It needs to be far enough away that running away for the weekend is not an easy task. Remember, the longer you’re apart the sweeter it will be when you’re together again. I feel so sorry for those of you who must spend every day with the love of your life. It must be torture.

All right. I’m done being irritated. I’m going to put on my big girl panties and get on with life. Like I said earlier I have a lot to be thankful for. The mobster and I both are still working. He’s doing a brisk business right now with all the grocery stores selling out. He’s even planning on signing up for Door Dash to make some extra money. We’ve got FaceTime and free long distance- both a perk I did not have in prior long distance relationships. We’ll make it through. I still really miss him though and wish I could be tortured with his presence on a daily basis.

I’m Done Bitching- For Now

Thank you for all your comments and tips. I promise I’m going to get around to responding to each one individually.

I’m not quite as hungry as I was the last time I wrote. My menu on Monday did pretty much follow what I figured, except for dinner I had Stouffer’s macaroni and cheese. I could afford it because I didn’t run the whole 25 minutes on the C25K program so I punished myself by having to complete the entire 5K. It took me 48 minutes of running and walking, down from 50 minutes on Saturday. That gave me another 399 calories, plus I was able to walk to the park twice that day.

I was in another bad mood that day because I was hungry for most of it AND I was only able to run 18 minutes of the 25 minutes I was supposed to. I’m not even going to get into the whole “10 minute mile” expectation they have. That is NOT happening. I’m not real worried about it either.

Yesterday was a little better, mainly because I went over my allotted calories by more than 600. I didn’t go to the gym after work and I wasn’t able to take a walk during work. Then I came home and made One Skillet Chicken Enchiladas. The recipe said it made 6 servings and it was 460 calories. They never said how much a serving size was so I gave myself credit for two servings. Perhaps I didn’t eat as much as I thought. If so I only went over by about 200.

Today I had my instant oatmeal. It wasn’t terrible. I’m not really a fan of oatmeal. I had a cup of coffee with almond milk creamer at work. 24 almonds and a piece of string cheese for snacks. For lunch I had one of those ridiculous Campbell’s chicken noodle soups. It’s basically 2 or 3 spoonfuls of noodles and chicken bites, and then the rest is broth. I went with an apple today instead of an orange. Then I had a sugar free pudding. For dinner I had a 12 oz. ribeye and a half cup of peas. I’m actually under on my calories, believe it or not.

I’ve found that even though I’m hungry more often the small amount I eat at breakfast and lunch does tend to satisfy me. Of course, I want something else an hour or two later, but the point is I’m not still starving after my ridiculous lunch.

It doesn’t really matter because I talked to my nurse practitioner and she advised I ditch MyFitness Pal and instead try low carb. I tend to agree, mainly because I enjoyed low carb. I HATE counting calories. For whatever reason, I don’t mind counting carbs. Side note: I have lost 2 pounds since I began doing this. Also, I bought a watch to track my steps at the beginning of February. It seems my wrist is slimming down as I used to wear it on the 5th notch for it to be loose. Now I wear it on the 4th notch for it to be loose. It doesn’t help me fit into a smaller pair of pants but if a man has a wrist fetish my wrists are looking lovely and slim.

Today was Day 2 of Week 7 of the C25K program. I have been struggling most days since the end of Week 5. I do my best but I’m not doing what is asked. As I said above, Saturday was the end of Week 6. I was supposed to run 2.25 miles or 22 minutes without stopping. I made it 15 minutes. Got pissed at myself and walked and ran the entire 3.2 miles needed to complete this upcoming 5K. Monday I was supposed to run 2.5 miles or 25 minutes with no stopping. I made it 18 minutes. Again, walked and ran the whole 3.2 miles.

I got home today, planning on quickly changing clothes and going to the gym. I walked in the door and was greeted by a big ol’ pile of shit half on the laminated floor, half on the rug. There was another smaller pile of shit on the tile, and for the coup de grace, there was a big puddle of pee. I’m already yelling and swearing when I walk into the bedroom and there’s ANOTHER pee spot. This is on top of me already cleaning up a mess this morning.

I have no idea what’s going on with these dogs. I let them out before I go to the bathroom in the morning!

Needless to say I was not happy. Instead of changing clothes and heading to the gym I’m instead cleaning up poop and pee.

I get that done and kill some time. Then I decide, “Hey! It’s not in the 30s and it’s not snowing. Why not try running outside?”

I went across our busy street to the subdivision. I start my 5 minute walk. I begin my 25 minute run. I don’t look at the time because the mobster tells me it’s demoralizing to watch the time and see how much longer you still have. All I know is once I pass the store I’m going to see how long I’ve been running because I can already feel myself getting tired and wanting to quit.

It turns out the store is .8 miles from my house, not that I ran the entire distance. As I’m passing by it I hear the voice from the C25K program say, “Start your running now. This is run 1 of 1.”

What. The. Fuuuuck? I’m dying here and nothing I did counted! I have no idea how long I’ve been running because I didn’t check times.

I was so upset I was almost in tears. I had psyched myself up to run today. I was outside for the first time. The sun was going down, the temperatures were dropping. I was freezing. At this point I’m cussing out loud. I’m furious! Finally after a minute or two of walking I decided, “Fuck it!” I reset the running time and began running again.

My goal was to run at least 20 minutes without stopping. I can triumphantly report I ran the entire 25 minutes. And this was on top of the other 8-10 minutes I ran before I somehow reset the program on my phone.

Oh, there were definitely times I was cussing. I’m sure there were a few, “Suck it, bitches!” in there and I know I muttered, “Motherfucker,” a couple of times. Also, even though it’s a subdivision there are woods in that area and I figured if someone was hiding there and wished to abduct me I would be a goner because I was very tired. I decided if that happened I need to have Facebook up so I could put him on Facebook Live. It wouldn’t prevent my rape and murder but hopefully it would result in him being brought to justice. Unless it was Michael Meyers who got me. He’s just a ghost in the wind. I told myself I better hope my witch powers were at full strength so I could simply wave my hand in their direction and they would be gone.

This subdivision is a collection of homes, apartments, an apartment complex, and at least 3 different villa communities. I decided to cut through one of them and found that there was a lot less traffic so I stuck with that for the most part. Of course, it was also more deserted and much darker. Perfect for someone to snatch me away.

Thankfully, I made it. I ran the entire distance and didn’t get murdered or kidnapped once.

I walked the rest of the way home, fixed my ribeye steak and peas, and eventually took a shower.

Today is the first day in a long while that I feel like I might actually be able to do this. The race is in a month. I ran the entire 25 minutes- plus!

It’s getting late. It’s been a while since I had that steak. I’m starting to get a little hungry again. I’m going to go to bed instead. Tomorrow is a new day. Today I’m feeling pretty damn proud of myself.

Still Hungry & Bitchy

I’m back and ready to complain some more.

I woke up and had 2 pieces of toast and an orange. Were you aware that a large orange has 85 calories in it? That’s almost a quarter of the calories that I’m allowed to have at each meal. Two pieces of toast with a little bit of butter and an orange ran me just under 400 calories.

Because all I had for breakfast was a stupid orange and two pieces of toast I was hungry again in about an hour. Imagine that. So I had another two pieces of toast. I’m now left with 732 calories for the day. The entire day.

What did I do? I didn’t eat. Picasso and I went downtown around 3:30 in the afternoon to play Pokemon. We ended up meeting some other people and doing some raids. We called it quits around 6:30 and went out to eat.

I went to Chili’s again. Got the same thing, minus the shrimp. I’m over 248 calories for the day. Hooray for me. My lovely little diary told me that I am on track to lose 7 pounds in 5 weeks if I keep starving myself like I am. Well that’s great news.

To top off the day we crossed the street and went to the grocery store to buy lunchmeat for the boy and so that I would have something to eat tomorrow that will fit within my ridiculous limits.

I’m perusing the aisles. The yogurt parfait that I love with the fruit and granola? The large one is 290 calories. I put that back. I already have almonds in my drawer and I’m always hungry in the morning so I’m going to have a serving of those. They are around 180 calories for what I consume so I can’t have both the yogurt parfait and the almonds later as a snack because that’s 470 calories and I’m now over my stupid 400 calorie limit, which would mean I have to cut somewhere or get my ass to the gym so I can not complete the next day of C25K.

I checked out the bagged salads. The entire bag counts as 3.5 helpings and they all have about 150-160 calories per serving. It’s lettuce, for crying out loud!

I’m at work. I’m not going to be able to take it home. I’m not going to measure it out. Ultimately I’m going to eat the entire salad, which means I’m consuming over 500 calories on a salad. A fucking salad! That also means I need to cut calories on another meal, which is already ridiculously low in calories.

What the fuck is left? I peruse the frozen food aisle. Almost all of the frozen entrees are over 250 calories for a ridiculously small portion of food. I scratch those off my list. I can have 2 Jimmy Dean egg frittatas for 260 calories. My thinking (my hope, my prayer) is that the eggs, meat, and cheese in those 2 little egg muffins will provide enough protein that I won’t be hungry again until lunch at 1. If I do get hungry again and have those almonds I’m going to be over my calorie count. It probably won’t hurt me as much tomorrow because I plan on going to the gym, but on those days that I don’t go to the gym I can’t afford it.

I check out the oatmeal. I don’t really like oatmeal but, once again, my hope is that if I eat it it will stick with me long enough to get me to lunch. I find one that is less than 200 calories. I’ll give it a try.

I bought some string cheese. It’s 80 calories for one single piece of cheese. Who the hell has only one piece of string cheese? I just said, “Fuck it!” and bought it anyway. I may eat it. I may not. It’s one big adventure, isn’t it?

I decided to see what the calorie count was for a regular yogurt. I finally broke down and purchased a four pack. 70 calories per yogurt cup.

I found some individual cottage cheese cups. Of course the ones with fruit were higher in calories so I stuck with the original. 110 calories for less than a cup.

I also found some individual cans of chicken noodle soup. A whole 7 ounces, which is less than a cup once again, for 60 calories.

So tomorrow I’m going to have those egg frittatas- 260 calories. I’m probably going to have a handful of almonds to tide me over until lunch- 180 calories. For lunch I’m planning on taking the soup, an orange, and a pudding. Grand total of calories- 205 calories. I’m taking along 2 pieces of string cheese to eat on a break in the afternoon- 160 calories. I’ll go to the gym after I drop Picasso off. Try once again to complete whatever the task is for Week 7 Day 1 on the 825 calories I’ve eaten throughout the entire day. Then for dinner I guess I’ll have another orange and some cottage cheese. Maybe another not-quite-a-cup of soup. 1060 calories. Not a complete meal to be had. I’m sure I will be delightful.

If I’m told one more time that I’m not really hungry and it’s all in my head I will probably kill somebody. No, when my stomach is burning and growling I am hungry. It is not my goddamn imagination. I know the difference between eating because you’re bored and eating because you’re hungry. When you’ve had one fucking meal all day you tend to be hungry around 6 or 7 o’clock. And when you’ve had one meal all day and you’re finally allowing yourself to eat again only you can’t have more than 800 calories which means you can’t eat anything that looks good to you or you risk going over your calorie count, you’re probably still hungry. And pissed off at the world.

I did a little research, too, because I find this 1200 calorie program to be bullshit. What I discovered through the Google god is that 1200 calories is actually the minimum that women should consume. Anything lower than that and they risk going into starvation mode. For anyone familiar with weight loss you know that once your body enters starvation mode your metabolism slows down, making weight loss more difficult. It also means that whenever you consume more calories your body hangs onto them because it has no idea when you’re going to get another meal. This program says, “Hey! I’ve got a great idea. Let’s take her right above starvation mode. That’ll be fun!”

I’m giving this until Thursday when I go out for sushi with my family. I intend to try it all and to enjoy myself. I’m giving it until then only because I’ve already bought food for this bullshit. After that I’m switching over to low carb. I like that a whole lot better than restricting calories.

They Lie

Have you ever heard people in the health and fitness industry tell you that making small changes can make a huge difference?

Yeah, me too. They’re liars.

Small changes do not bring about anything. Not a pound. Not an inch.

I have a very sedentary life. I work a job where I sit at a desk all day. On top of that we have deadlines, so it’s not like we can just get up and walk around and “unchain ourselves” so to speak. I have gained at least 20 pounds since working in this new department.

In July the mobster introduced me to Pokemon Go. This is a game that involves a lot of walking around. Shortly after I got back from learning about this game I found out that there is a Veteran’s Park about a 5 minute walk away with 7 PokeStops and gyms. Until the weather got colder I walked over to that park twice a day, five days a week, instead of sitting in a break room with my feet up, reading. Sure, there were times I was swamped with work and didn’t get two breaks. There were even times I didn’t get a single break, I’m sure. But the point is most days I walked over and back, twice a day. Five minutes there. Walking amongst all the PokeStops and gyms to spin them. Five minutes back. Twice a day. Twenty minutes. Small change. Did not register a single pound as far as change goes.

Six weeks ago I started doing the C25K program. It’s not strenuous right off the bat but it is more activity than I was doing. Three nights a week I’m exercising for 30 minutes. Small change. Do you want to take a guess as to how much weight I’ve lost? The answer is zero.

The mobster also started the C25K program 6 weeks ago. He also downloaded MyFitness Pal and religiously inputs his food and exercise into the app. He has lost over 20 pounds.

I realize he’s a man and men lose weight more quickly. I’m not even upset about that. My point is this: He hasn’t made small changes. First, he’s running much faster than I am, he completes each running segment, which I don’t, and in addition to that, he has drastically cut down how much he eats. He skips breakfast or has a smoothie. His lunch is usually an apple, and there have been many times he’s gone home and steamed bok choy and kale for dinner. Yes, he mixes that up with something else, but nonetheless he’s not eating much. It’s not a small change. It’s a huge change.

My daughter has lost around 40 pounds since she went back to school in August. She’s working out now and uses MyFitness Pal as well, but the biggest part is she has to cook for herself and she doesn’t. She just doesn’t eat. Another big change.

This idea that you can make small meaningful changes is a big, fucking lie. I’m no better off for walking twenty minutes a day than I was when I was kicking my feet up and reading on my breaks.

I can run a goddamn 5k this April but it’s not going to matter. I won’t be one pound lighter. I can go to the gym 3 times a week and follow this running program or I can sit at home on my ass. I’m still going to weigh the same. Hell, I could probably train for and run a fucking marathon and I would still weigh the same.

I’m not the only one that has experienced this either. We have a weight loss challenge that is going to be starting up soon. One of the goals is to lose 20% of your body weight. The contest goes from March-July 3rd. I was talking to two ladies at work, to see if they were going to join, and telling them about my experience with doing the C25K program and not losing a single damn pound.

The one works out religiously with her husband after work. She changes at work and goes straight to the gym at least three times a week. She even eats vegetarian, and I often see her in the lunchroom eating her raw peppers and other veggies. She still struggles with her weight loss, her cholesterol, her blood sugar, and her blood pressure. She said it’s so frustrating at times. This is not new for her either. It’s been a long term program. She’s been doing it for over a year easily.

Another one said after she had her first daughter she lost a bunch of weight. She was running 3 miles every day pretty much but she still didn’t lose 20% of her body weight. Again, that’s not a small change. Running 3 miles every day is a big change.

And those fucking bitches on the weight loss commercials where they tell you they’ve lost 20 pounds and 8 dress sizes? I hate them.

Years ago (and sadly, I do mean years- Picasso was 2 at the time) I did low carb. I lost like 30 pounds. Would you like to guess how many dress sizes I lost?

The answer is one. One dress size. Thirty fucking pounds and I could say I went down one whole size. Awesome.

At the rate I was going I would have had to have lost 60 pounds to lose 2 dress sizes and 180 pounds to have lost 3. I would have been close to my birth weight if I had lost 180 pounds.

Part of it is how I store weight. I’m not one of those people with a fat ass. I don’t have huge arms or legs. I’m an apple shape. All my fat is stored in my hips, my stomach and my thighs.

When I lose weight guess what’s the first to go? First, it’s the boobs. As we all know that doesn’t help you fit into a smaller pair of jeans. Then it’s a two way tie between my face and my ass. I guess I’m not bothered by my face losing the weight, but even when my already flat ass shrinks even further it doesn’t translate into fitting into a smaller pair of pants. It’s all about the stomach and that shit doesn’t budge.

Thirty pounds and I went down a dress size.

This is all so frustrating. Everyone around me seems to manage. They’re all losing weight. I skip the fries. I try to eat healthier. It doesn’t matter. I don’t lose a fucking pound.

I finally tried MyFitness Pal. In order to lose a pound a week I need to restrict my calories to 1510. It will take me over a year to even get down to respectably fat. I will not meet my BMI requirements and I won’t be anywhere close to where I should be. In order to lose 1.5 pounds a week they take me down to 1260 calories a day and if I want to lose 2 pounds a week I can only have 1200 calories, which seems a little strange to me. The dip is pretty severe from 1 to 1.5, but it’s only a difference of 60 calories to go from losing 1.5 pounds to 2 pounds a week.

The first day I went over by 165 calories even with running. I gave myself credit for 205 extra calories although I didn’t pay attention at the gym because I didn’t think I would be doing this.

I had a package of crackers and a handful of almonds for breakfast. I can’t imagine that having bacon and eggs would be fewer calories, but maybe I’ll be shocked. I had a turkey bacon club, a side of potato chips and a pickle spear for lunch. That was over 400 calories. I only get 400 per meal at this rate. For dinner I ate honey teriyaki chicken over rice. I know I had more than what would be considered a single serving. That’s it. That’s all I had and I’m over my calorie allotment for the day.

There was nothing really fantastic that I had. It wasn’t a ton of food by any means. There was nothing sweet. Nothing that tasted amazing. I didn’t down a whole bag of potato chips or an entire pan of brownies. And yet I was still over. I’m not even on track to lose a pound and a half because remember, the difference between losing 1.5 pounds vs. 2 pounds is only 65 calories. I’m on my way to losing a single pound in a week if I keep this up. I’m also pretty sure that’s only if I exercise every day. Otherwise I’m not even on course to lose a pound.

The second day was not looking much better. I was at the gym for 50 minutes, running and walking. Burned a whopping 356 calories. Came home and had 2 scrambled eggs and 2 pieces of toast with some butter. That was 335 calories. I didn’t eat before I went to the gym around 10:30 so breakfast was really lunch. I had one meal and one snack of Jell-O sugar free pudding- another 60 calories. I had plans to meet a friend for dinner at Chili’s. I had a little over 1100 calories left. I figured I would probably have a bowl of broth and a side salad with lettuce and tomatoes only. No dressing. In my terrible, horrible, no good will possibly come of it mood I was sure that would probably put me over!

Oops- that’s 1400 calories! You’re over for the day.

With a goddamn side salad and a bowl of broth?

Well, the broth did have specks of chicken in it and we added a crouton to your salad. So yes, 1400 calories. Sorry, Fatso. Good luck tomorrow!

I ended up having the 6 oz. sirloin with a half an order of shrimp, the loaded mashed potatoes, broccoli, and a side salad. That was nice, but it came at the price of me being hungry all. fucking. day. long. I ended up having diet Coke instead of a flavored iced tea like I usually get because I couldn’t afford the calories. I certainly couldn’t get a margarita. I had to starve myself in order to go out to dinner, and honestly, if I had gotten up earlier and gone to the gym so that I ending up eating breakfast and lunch, I wouldn’t have been able to eat what I did for dinner. I would have ended up having to choose something that I didn’t want because it was the only thing that fit within my daily allotment of calories.

I HATE this fucking program. Basically it’s, “Hey! You get to be hungry. All. The. Time.” Unless you want to eat bok choy and kale all the time, and I don’t. Nor do I consider a large bowl of broccoli to be a satisfying meal. I hate cucumbers. I do not like radishes. I do not like raw peppers. All of these very low calorie foods I typically do not like. Fruit is not low calorie. An orange is anywhere from 60-80 calories, depending upon its size. That’s almost 25% of my calorie count for each meal. I snack on an orange, I need to reduce one of my meals. And that orange is not going to fill me up for two or three hours.

I get 400 calories a meal and no snacks on this program, unless I exercise. Or, I go down to 300 calories a meal with two snacks a day. There is not one goddamn thing out there that I find filling and satisfying for under 400 calories. I mean, look at my lunch on Day One. The turkey bacon club alone was 400 calories. That’s it. That’s all I get. Then I get to wait until dinner and have myself another sandwich. Sandwich only, though. No chips. No pickle spears. No dessert. No snacks. Hell, not even a celery stick or two. And dip for the celery sticks? Shut your mouth! You don’t get to eat anything that tastes good, or that you enjoy! You’re trying to lose weight.

So much for fifty-fun. I’m a raving bitch when I’m hungry and I foresee being hungry a lot. I did Weight Watchers for a few months before I got pregnant with Picasso. I was always hungry. To this day, eighteen years later, I still remember going out for lunch and getting a BBQ chicken sandwich and telling my mom, “This is the first time since I started doing this that I’ve actually felt satisfied after a meal.”

That brings up another point. When I did Weight Watchers those many moons ago people who weighed more were given more calories, or points, and as you lost weight you had fewer points. Is that how MyFitness Pal works? Because if so I’m fucked. I’m already a cranky fucking bitch at 1200 calories. If I lose 20 pounds (you know, in the next 6 months) and they take me down to 1000 calories or less, I’m going to be homicidal. If you think I’m a bitch now just wait until they tell me, “Guess what? You’re doing so well we’re taking you down to 300 calories a meal! And no snacks!”

I suppose my other solution would be to work out 2 hours every day so I might actually be able to have a side salad with my handful of nuts. Of course I have a full time job and a teenage son who doesn’t drive yet so I’m picking him up two to three nights a week and sometimes am not home for the night until 6:30 or later. Plus he expects me to cook for him for some reason. And that’s always a lot of fun. Cooking for others when you can’t eat because everything in the world besides fruits and vegetables puts you over your daily allotment of calories.

This whole thing is so depressing. First, you realize that virtually everything that tastes good makes you fat. You no longer scan the menu looking for something that sounds good; you look for something with as few calories as possible. So instead of a ground beef burrito you choose rat entrails and shit stew. Because it’s low in calories. It doesn’t taste good. You hate it. But you eat it because it’s the only thing you can eat within your calories. And because you didn’t enjoy it at all, you’re hungry again in an hour or two but you can’t have anything else to eat unless you want to go exercise for an hour so you can have that string cheese to tide yourself over until morning when you can eat an orange and let that get you through until lunch. Hungry. All. The. Time.

Second, you realize that while you might find something that is under 800 calories a serving, the serving size is actually really really tiny and it will come nowhere close to filling you up. Yes, that can of soup you’re going to heat up? That’s actually two servings so either pour half of it out or double your calorie count. I know you thought you were going to have crackers and maybe some veggies on the side but you can no longer afford those. Those grilled chicken Caesar salads that you think are so good for you? Well, those are more like three servings so you need to triple your calorie count! Guess what? You don’t get to eat 400 calories at dinner anymore! Enjoy a cup of broth instead.

Third, you realize you will never have a piece of cake, a bowl of ice cream, chips and salsa, pizza, or sushi ever again. There are too many fucking calories in it so there is no way to have it. period. and be able to stay within your calorie count even if you went to gym at 8 that night and worked out for the next four hours to try to gain some extra calories.

Why is getting fat so easy and getting skinny so hard? Oh, I know. Because exercise is hard and exhausting, and sitting on your ass watching television or writing blog posts is very easy and relaxing. Some food is delicious, like juicy burgers, sushi, chips and salsa, chocolate cake with vanilla icing, meatloaf. Other food sucks, like cucumbers, peppers, plain salads with no dressing. Fat is fun. Skinny is bitchy. It’s starvation and deprivation and a world of bleak gray.

Seriously, I am starting to question whether or not it’s even worth it. I could die fat, happy and young, or I can live to a ripe old age as a cranky bitch.