Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Fattest

This is always a proud time of year for me. Come the end of January, I’m at my yearly peak weight. Not outlandish Biggest Loser reward-me-with-a-chance-for-fabulous-prizes-for-my-total-lack-of-self-control fat but “spongy”, I guess, is the term I’ll go with.

Since I’m not going to blame myself, I’ll blame winter. And you. Winter, obviously, creates a situation where I’m simply indoors more. It’s dark at 5 o’clock PM. It’s cold when it’s not dark. No win scenario. Who wants to trudge around in the snow and/or muddy lawn and kick around a soccer ball? No? Who wants to watch Biggest Loser, eat chips, and laugh at the struggling fatties while brushing splintered Pringles off your chest and lap into the eager mouth of your obese dog? Yeah, that sounds better. Hand me the pizza sauce encrusted remote and whatever chips you can scrape together from the recliner fabric. We have a regular upholstery garden in full bloom.

Winter sucks. But you might be the bigger problem. Guess how many cards, letters, comments and emails of encouragement I’ve received from you? You’ll notice there was no ellipses before this sentence to simulate time spent counting. Zero. Pretty fucking self-involved aren’t you? I like to remain humble even in the face of your rudeness. In fact, I’m better at being modest than all of the rest of you combined. But thanks a lot. How much time do I spend commenting on your blogs? Again, you’ll notice no ellipses before that sentences and Ithankyoufornotcounting.

No, I’m at my yearly Fattest right now. BUT it can only go down from here! (Weight, that is.)
My normal, rippled six pack abs are more like a 4 ½ pack.
My food pyramid is comprised of pie, beer, fudge stripe cookies, and whatever that crumb was stuck to my cheek for an hour that I pushed into my hole. No good?
When ordering at a restaurant, I say, “What do you have in a crust? And I’ll have two of those.”

I think I’ve identified the source of the problem. It’s post-holiday hangover. If running is a habit, so is eating sugary treats and drinking away your post-Christmas financial woes.

Oh, I’m still running. Don’t worry about that. I just need to turn up the music to drown out my fat guy wheeze. I’m pregnant with laziness. I don’t think I’m in danger of turning up on the list of hottest Olympic athletes any time soon. A good dose of pro-biotics will solve some of the problem but, if I’m being honest, there’s still a little wiggle left.

When are you at your fattest? And gross. Slob.

February 1st begins my quest to redefine my figure for the upcoming bikini season.  I probably should mix in a nice waxing at some point too.  The phrase "unsightly curly ass hair" is a real turn off to Mrs. Nitmos.

No worries. By spring, I’ll be toned and ripped out and exceedingly modest. Handsome? Yes, to all Get Out!

Heck, I might even start ordering those little green things….what are they called….vegetables! I might even pair it with a fruit if I’m feeling a little wild and crazy. Hell, I might even stop asking them to cover my entire plate in fried dough “like a giant Elephant Ear.”

But the calendar says January 29th. That gives me two more days of nom nom nom nom nom nom….

Happy trails.
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One of Mrs. Nitmos and I’s favorite weekends of the year approaches! No not Valentine’s Day. That’s for teenagers and cartoonish romantics. Purely coincidental that it shares the V-Day weekend. It’s my hometown’s winter Comedy Festival and outdoor winter festival! It’s wine. It’s laughter. It's soup and chili. It’s hot tubs. It’s wine again. It’s kids at grandparents and not our problem! It's local craft beer.  It's a frickin' winter ferris wheel on the downtown streets! There’s no soccer! Along with some friends (yes, we have them), we’ll be creating little embarrassing scenes at bars, restaurants, and theatres all over the area before waking up in an amnesiastic* fog the next morning that allows us to go on with our normal Responsible Citizen lives.

View the fabulous video about my ancestral homeland.  That's totally how we lived every single day.  Believe it.

Once again, I haven’t been asked to do my “act” on stage for the comedy festival. This seems to be a yearly oversight now. If it keeps happening, I’m going to start considering that it is not accidental. So, I guess I’ll attend and take notes to give to the performers. I’m sure they’ll appreciate the critique.

Also, yeah, I know I said getting un-Fattened starts February 1st but I’m allowed this one weekend of debauchery. I’m not a Quaker. Believe thee that.

* Should be a word. Screw you, red squiggly line.

3 comments:

Joanne said...

Take some extra days since Sunday is Super Bowl Sunday and you don't want to try trimming the fat before the big game.

Viper said...

Jeez, fatty, why don't you cry a little bit more about how the Internet doesn't care about your weight problems? Get some grief bacon and shut your gob while you chew so we don't have hear your complaints.

Danielle in Iowa in Ireland said...

I am appalled at the blatantly sexist links that you post here. Where are the hot men of the Olympics? I want to see sweat glistening down chests and little short running shorts.