Seriously. This is a rant. It will not be pretty. You have been warned. Here we go…

I am so **** sick of this weight thing. I’m sick of thinking about it. Thinking about my weight. About my food. About exercise. About all of it. I track diligently, for awhile, then I blow it. Then I feel guilty and eat. Or I yell at the kids. And eat. I overeat for no good reason. I’m a smart person. I know what I should do. I don’t do it. Then I feel awful. My stomach hurts. My teeth hurt. My head hurts. I feel dull. I yell at the kids. I feel guilty. I eat. I am just so sick of this (and trying so hard not to fill this post with swear words!) I want to just push pause for awhile. Not lose, not gain, not think about it. You have to work so hard for every tiny tenth of a percent of weight loss. So freaking hard. Yet, in the blink of an eye, five pounds up again. What the hell!?! It’s just not fair. I want to enjoy my days. I have a house to clean, projects to do, a life to live. I even have two child-free hours a day. Yet somehow they are always wasted on exercise. Wasted, I say, because it’s a never ending friggin’ CHORE! Then I overeat later and blow it anyway. There are so many tasty looking Thanksgiving recipes in the magazines I read (I should probably stop reading magazines altogether. Less temptation and more time to exercise!) They would be fun to make and tasty to eat. But then I would eat them, and eat and eat and eat them and then I’d feel guilty and eat some more. Then I would want to vomit… so I’d eat some more. UGH! Why can’t I just eat like a normal person? Eat until I’m full, then stop. Why is that so hard!?!

One night I told Alan I felt ill because I had eaten several handfuls of peanuts in a very short period of time. He says, “How did you end up with a handful of peanuts?” How the hell does he open the peanut container and NOT end up with a handful?!

We are starting a new meal strategy in this house because of Lex’s resistance to family dinners. I have recurring conversations with my good friend who is trying to potty train her extremely resistant almost-4yr old. I think I have the same dynamic going on inside of me as well! The logical, grownup in me knows what to feed my body. Grownup knows that one animal cracker will inevitably lead to many animal crackers and that just leads to physical pain and mental distress. Grownup knows what’s best for this body. However, the child inside is extremely resistant. Like a child. Grownup says “Animal crackers = bad evening in every way.” Child says “Give me the god damn animal crackers!” And the kids always win.

I had this rant running through my brain while I was laying with the kids tonight. I’m sure I made for pleasant company. I’m not even going to reread because who the hell proof reads a rant, right? Now what? Here are my options. 1) Check myself into a mental hospital. Ideally somewhere that will fully control my access to food. 2) Eat the damn animal crackers… or should I say continue to eat the crackers. 3) Switch to wine instead. 4) Go to bed. (This is the right answer, but not the one I will choose). Or 5) Hot tea, cold water, two baskets of laundry, and something funny on Hulu.

That’s my rockin’ Friday night. I hope yours is more fun and less anguish inducing. Let me know if you find that pause button. My messy mind and messy house could both use it.