Tuesday, June 9, 2009

"Biggie Biggie Biggie can't you see...

Combo #2 just Hypnotized me." Ok so I'm no Biggie Smalls (RIP) but I do know a thing or two about hypnosis. When I said I've tried every weight loss strategy out there, I meant it! Actually there's one I haven't tried bcs the evil doctor won't let me...good ole bariatric surgery. Apparently my BMI hadn't quite tipped the scale far enough in the appropriate direction for such drastic measures. I'm working on that. However, the "crack" and the tremors were getting old so I sought out a new method in the battle of the bulge..... I went Holistic on yur ass! What? Yeah I said it. I decided (back about 2 years ago) that it would be way easier for me to blame my subconscious mind for all of my problems as opposed to me taking responsibility. After all, mother always said, "When in doubt cast blame about." Not my mother per say, but I'm sure someones mother said that at some point. Maybe one of those Lifetime TV cheerleader Mom's. Yeah that's it.

Anyway, this whole "revelation" came about on Valentines Day 2007. Or maybe it was 2006. Do we really care? Valentines Day = chocolate and no good can come of that. So instead of being a good wife and planning an elaborate shag fest starring me as an overweight, deranged Victoria Secret model...I opted for something much more creative.... hypnosis. Was my plan to hypnotize my husband into loving me at any size? Ahh no. Clearly he bears that burden on the regular. No, this was to be the Valentines Day when my husband and I would cast our burdens into the hands of a professional mind manipulator extraordinaire. Yup. I saw his ad right there in the free paper they give out at the Food Lion. Funny that everything would come full circle at the Food Lion but I guess it's an appropriate venue given the circumstance. My husband had no idea we would be giving up chocolate, wine and shagging for mind games but being a wife involves such trickery and I like to think of myself as the resident expert in that area. I should mention that my husband isn't in fact over weight. Actually we are both about the same size. Good for him... bad for me. No, his vice is the cig. Have you ever shared a passionate kiss with a really hot guy only to feel like you just chain smoked a pack of Marlboro's? Then, clearly you have made out with my husband and I don't appreciate it...not one bit...thank you very much!

So this hypnotist man was traveling from northern Virginia for one night only to revolutionize my life and the lives of all the fatties and smokers on the Outer Banks. Clearly he wanted a weekend at the beach and this was a good way to write it off but whatever. If my house smelled less like grease and cigarettes upon his departure, it was a well earned vacation of sorts. When I signed us up for the session I was most pleased to see that it was cheaper to transform one into a non-eater than into a non-smoker. Chalk one up for the fatties! I broke the news to my husband as gently as I knew how. To the best of my recollection it went something like this, "You have two choices for Valentines Day: Stop smoking or divorce." And we were off! I made him take a separate car. All you fatties out there know exactly why I did that! The last supper of course! If I was going to be duped into a life of non-eating I needed to say goodbye to someplace near and dear to my heart....Taco Bell. I knew it wouldn't be easy but it had to be done. I binged, shed a few tears and cleared the evidence from my teeth before entering the building. When I got out of my car, I saw what I thought was my husband exiting his truck. After the plume of smoked cleared I could see that yes, it was in fact him. Our demons were about to be behind us....or were they?

As the Marlboro Man and I entered the Ramada Inn (very sterile/clinical environment for mind trickery), we noticed that there was quite a crowd waiting to get in. I decided it was best to tell people I was there for the non-smoking portion and then run into the fatty session when no one was looking. Sad but true...it's way cooler to be a smoker than a fatty. Turns out...it was all in the same room. Fatties first and then the smokers. I'm sure they wanted to get the fatties in before the dinner bell and allow the smokers one last puff...or 12. Now when I say I'm fat it's true and not true. One wouldn't look at me and say I was "fat." However, if one were to watch me eat and take random dictation as to the number of times I referenced food from sun up to sun down, I think I could pass for a fatty no problem. So when I walked into the room I wasn't greeted with open arms by the other fatties. For once, I was the "skinny one." Doesn't mean all that much when the average weight in the room is 680! I had a plan. Full disclosure. No matter what the traveling mind man asked I would make a full confession and win over the fatties thus securing my right to be in their presence. Worked like a charm. His first question, "Did any of you binge eat today." I raised my hand and confessed that I downed 2 Chalupas, 3 Taco Supreme's and a Mexi-Melt about 30 minutes ago. The fatties sat slient quietly giving me the "eye of approval." The teacher wasn't as pleased with my full disclosure strategy. Nope. He kindly asked that we just raise our hands bcs he wasn't out to embarrass anyone. Ummm teacher....when you weigh a metric ton embarrassment is part of the deal! Freaky traveling mind man!

The mind man assured us that we wouldn't even know we were sitting on hard metal chairs when he was through with us. Nope. We would be so blissfully unaware that we would instantly forget we even had asses! I loved this guy! In my mind I had pictured all sorts of scenarios as to how this would play out: Laying hands on my head as I fall to the ground (no that was a crazy church experience...sorry), talking low and dirty until we all said, "Yes master", making us chant random phrases until we were comatose ...just to name a few. Luckily he gave us a bathroom break before the actual "knock you out" phase began. I didn't have to pee but I remembered I had a mini Snickers in my purse that needed to be "disposed" of. So I went into the bathroom to "dispose" of it. While I was taking care of business I made a bathroom fatty friend! She was alot like me in that she wasn't what one would call "fat." She would be my new hypno BFF. That is until she started interrogating me. "Where do you work? Where do you live? How long have you lived here? Why are you here?" Damn...can't a fatty get some anonymity?! I was very vague and suggested that we go back into the room before all of the good seats were taken. I use the term "good seats" very loosely. I chose to sit in the back of the room where people should sit when they plan to burp up Taco Bell for the next hour. I am, after all, a considerate fatty.

Bla bla ...the actual witch doctor portion was very disappointing. No hitting, no punching, no calling us fat slobs....very uneventful! A little action would have been nice for my $80! I will say that I was very relaxed and did not in fact feel the metal chair as promised. Full disclosure: My ass was asleep along with my brain. We signed a contract to never eat again and were given a CD that we were to listen to every night before we went to bed. Mind games...clearly. I left all my fatty friends promising to stay in touch with random progress reports. We all know that was NEVER going to happen. I would later find that letters and phone calls wouldn't be necessary as I would see them every where I went! Have you ever met someone for the first time and then realized that you have seen them every day for the last 10 years but just didn't know them? Now picture a large herd of cattle crossing the street in front of your house that you didn't notice until the day you chose hypnosis over sex! This is my life. I didn't wait for hubby to finish his anti-smoking torture. I decided it was imperative that I go out into the world and see if food was really dead to me. As I exited the "clinic" aka the Ramada....I was sure my husband would be sleeping with a new woman this evening. Translation...either the mind games worked or I was about to find out he was banging the neighbor!

When hubby arrived home I was happy to report that this fatty was food free! He said he hadn't smoked but...yeah he can't be trusted. That trickery costs more for a reason! We got ready for bed and popped in the traveling mind man CD. It went something like this: "Listen to the rhythm...the rhythm of your life." Umm... the rhythm of my life sounds something like an African drum core so maybe that's not the best venue for relaxing away the food noise! He kept on in his soothing sort of pervy voice and I started to get confused. I wasn't sure if I should grab my rabbit or make a mad dash to bathroom and start flushing Ho-Ho's down the tank! It's a fine line with these witch doctors. Before I knew it we were asleep. Nothing like waking up with big ass Re-Run headphones on and a witch doctor in your ear. I wondered what went on while I was sleeping and he was talking. Was he mentally molesting me? Perhaps. Let's face it... that's more action that I usually get....so I played it on my runs, at work, in the car and when I was alone. Even if I gained 1000 pounds...money well spent.

The end result....hubby is still smoking, I'm still fat and I'm on my 3rd rabbit. We would go back for another round of trickery a year later, pay our $80, see the same people and....well read the first sentence of this paragraph again and you are pretty much up to date! Oh except change the rabbit to 5. I highly recommend it his services.

Weigh in on this....

I must thank my good friend Susan for some of the material in this particular blog. Anyone who knows Susan knows there's no shortage of material when she's around! Luckily for me, Susan and I have a pre-arranged custody agreement to make sure I get enough time and material. Work gets her Monday- Friday, boyfriend gets her Tuesday's and every other Saturday and I get her in the summer for weeks at a time. It works out quite nicely. We share a love/hate relationship with food and fat. We both love food and we both hate being fat. As of late, the similarities are beginning to get a little sketchy. For example, she has lost her weight and well...I haven't. As if that weren't reason enough to put her up for adoption, it gets worse! On her most recent visit she actually went to McDonald's, ordered a burger and DIDN'T order fries! She's officially dead to me. No more Skinny Girl Martini's for you Fry Felon!

Do you enjoy going to the doctor? Did you ever notice that no matter why you go to the doctor they always want to weigh you? What's up with that? "Ummm yeah...I just crammed a stick up my ass and I think I may be bleeding internally." "Please step on the scale!" Bastards! I have compiled a list of ailments that should not require a weigh in. It is my full intention to present this list along with my copay upon my next office visit ...drum role please...

Now that we have that cleared up. I mean really! I'd rather stay home and die than share my digits for drugs. Ok that's just not true. For the right drugs I would have to say the humiliation could be overlooked. Pain killers, muscle relaxers, "baby be gones" just to name my Top 3. In case you were wondering... the drugs named were in sequential order to the tune of my life: Pain Killers allow me to be married, muscle relaxers take me to my special place where I have sex with Brad Pitt...and that brings us to the "baby be gones." Unfortunately when I wake up Brad Pitt has been replaced by my husband, I feel violated and the vicious cycle starts again. I know what you are thinking...Yes, my diet drugs use to make the Top 3...however, since the evil Feds cracked down on the Ephedra and my legalized crack tried to kill me...I found it too scandalous to list.

Just once I want to go to the doctor and not have to worry about the "BMI conversation". If I have a stick crammed up my ass....what about a balanced BMI is going to make that better?! A quicker exit perhaps? In any event, I started thinking back to see if maybe there was a time in my life when I went to the doctor and he suggested that I gain weight. No, I am not hyped on drugs 1 & 2 and yes I realize I'm reaching here. In fact, I do recall a time! Yes! It came to me whilst I was hypnotized (a blog in itself) to correct my issues with eating. I was 9....yup....9 months old and apparently I was losing weight like crazy. Learning to walk and crawl will do that to you. So the doctor told my mother to feed me more in order that I might gain back the weight that I lost. See I'm not crazy. Mother...you can stop feeding me now. I can walk, talk, got the eating down pat and oh...I weigh a metric ton. Thanks!

So poor Susan goes to the eye doctor thinking bad thoughts for all of the obvious reasons. She wanted laser eye surgery and fully expected to be called to slaughter for the evil weigh in. However, the tide seemed to be turning in her favor where these matter were concerned. Not only did she NOT have to step on the scale, she was given quite a compliment. The doctor informed her that her Corneas were too thin for the surgery! Yippee....too thin! Hold your applause. In this case being too thin is a bad thing! Trickery! Always trickery! SIF wait years to hear the words "too thin" but not from the eye doctor! Hey, I got an easy fix for this one. If I'm telling the story it goes something like this, "Yeah I went to the doctor today to see about that surgery. He said I was too thin." End of story. New topic starts now!

The moral of the story is as follows: Make no mistake...Doctors play for the other team. In laments terms MD could mean any of the following: More Drama, More Drugs and/or Mean Doctors! SIF head my warning...behind that sliding glass window is your ticket to hell! Unless you need the Top 3 drugs on my list, you are sick enough to purge thus losing a quick 5 or if you are known to have thin corneas...stay away from the MD!

Monday, June 1, 2009

BMI...you kiss your mama with that mouth?

Since we last spoke, I was nabbed by the Fatty Police. My crime...2 counts over legal BMI with plus size intent. My BFC (blood fat content)... was over 50%... not pretty. I've been committing said crime for... oh...36 years... so getting caught with my fat ass hanging out was no surprise. As you are well aware, I enjoy eating more than....well anything, so this was bound to happen sooner or later. I plead guilty and asked to be sentenced post haste for a few very logical reasons: A. My "court suit" doesn't exactly fit anymore B. Exhibit A, B and C would surely pass their expiration dates by time of said trial and C. It's hard to say you aren't guilty when they have to haul you into court on a flatbed pick-up!!! Hello! I found the punishment a bit harsh for a first time offender (OK so it's the first time I've been caught). I was given the death sentence...House Arrest. Make no mistake...it's a pain much worse than death. I was hoping for a lethal injection of used KFC grease pumping through my veins whilst the faint taste of fried chicken passed through my mouth until such time that my arteries clogged causing my untimely death and an end to the madness! * Pause for dramatic effect* But no...I was forced to live in my house amongst the crack with my repeat offender husband and "the arm band."

I know what you are thinking...."They made you live with your husband?!" Yes, yes they did. Clearly fatty discrimination at it's best. So now I get to watch him eat Little Debbie and I can't even get on rotation for missionary sex! Where's the justice in that? She's a ho...ho. Anyway, let's discuss the 2nd part of my new torturous existence. It's an arm band called "Go Wear Fit." Sounds yippee skippy right? Wrong. It should be called "You Fat Bitch." Its an arm band that calculates every step, every calorie burned and get this...even how well I sleep. It doesn't have to be turned on, it's useless without me and I hardly know it's there. So...I re-named it "Dick." Anyway, every morning I download piles of useless information about myself. For example...did you know that on a seemingly normal night I sleep for 7:15 at 68% effectiveness? Add a little Vodka to my "Dick" and I shoot up to 8:03 at 85% effectiveness. Amazing. Here's a little SIF trick to keep drinking while on fatty probation: Skinny Girl Martini's: 1/2 pack sugar free black cherry Koolaide, 6 oz water, 4 oz Vodka, ice, shake and top with diet Black Cherry Soda. Don't let the name scare you...it's a cross over drink.

So here's the best part of this whole crime & punishment scenario...I am my own keeper. Picture it this way....you walk into a prison and all of the inmates are wearing a "band" to monitor where they go, give them boundaries and set daily goals for production. No guards. Just pre-set goals calculated into the "band." At the end of the day, said criminals must tell the "band" what they did all day so that the "band" can decide if they are on their way to a life a freedom or solitary confinement. If you were "Ray Ray Levi Crip" would you tell the little "band" how you shanked 4 inmates and came out of the closet or would you give yourself extra points for exceeding your license plate quota? Exactly. So when the little "band" wants to know what I ate for the day what do you suppose I tell it? *Pause for shocker** I went for a lifetime of freedom....I was honest. Which, by the way, is overrated. "They" say that honesty makes you feel better. Whatever! Like everything else, honesty makes me hungry!!!

I tried logging extra hours of good behavior in the form of running, biking and even weight lifting. Do you think early parole was in my future.... no. It seems that the calories I've been eating add up much quicker than the good behavior. I feel I am a victim of fatty profiling. How else can a ham sandwich, a few chips and a diet Coke add up to 2000 calories?! It's "the man" keeping me down. Yeah, that's it. The "band" has been pre-programmed by "the man" to make me think I am overeating so that I will give up hope of life on the outside therefore forcing me to have an affair with Little Debbie fulfilling my husbands wildest fantasy. Sick F'r. How is it possible that I work out 3 x a day, eat less and gain a pound when the calculations of the band say I should have lost 4?! Huh? Tell me! Diga me! Trickery! Being that the "band" cost a small fortune I couldn't very well throw it out. So I opted to throw out the scale. Vindicated for now.