Monday, September 21, 2009

Trash Talk

As you are well aware, I often watch TV with my husband. I remain steadfast in my quest for sex and not even "Man TV" can deter my efforts to fight for a bone every now and again. I sit through hours of everything from football to aliens waiting for the right moment to strike...aka half time or commercials. And you wonder why I choose food over men? It's called "ROI" sisters...Return on Investment. I can put in a good 10 seconds at the drive through and get hours of pleasure dipping my lovely golden nuggets in decadent honey mustard sauce OR I can spend hours watching aliens fly over the White House in hopes of 5 minutes of ecstasy. Damn nuggets win hands down! However comma, every so often my premeditated television agenda produces a nugget of it's own. I bring you, once again, to the Discovery Channel. Word of warning...if you are a freak...The Discovery Channel will find you! You never know what you are gonna see on that damn channel...parasitic twins (which for the record is what I believe to be growing under my arm...I shall name her "Little Debbie"), people who want to shag their kin due to some phenom called genetic attraction and the icing on the cake...people who think they have mastered the art of losing weight! It's just F'n disturbing...I know this.

Let's just cut to the chase and talk about the most disturbing of them all...the Fat Busters. Allow me to back up and say that there were three groups of "experts" profiled on this particular segment. Of the three, only two laid claim to weight loss genius. The 3 rd group was clearly eating the food left behind by the first two but I'll get to them later. Let's start with divine intervention shall we? Because apparently losing weight is all the rage in Heaven! Whodathunk?! According to the "Weigh Down" program..."why you can just eat whatever your little heart desires because Jesus himself will save you from your plate!"-- said very quickly with the thickest of southern drawls. Yes, the woman who said that makes all of her money from televangelism, wears far too much makeup, has enormous blond hair and cries on cue. Oh and can sing well. What is it about these overzealous Christian types having good pipes? If someone would have told me that loving the Lord meant I could sing like Lita Ford...I wouldn't have skipped out on Sunday school back in the day! Now I'm 37 and overweight. Not a good look for today's rocker. Shameful. Anyway, her theory is based on a belief called self-control. I know. I had to look that one up too. In "her world", you wear gaudy suits and pearls to the table, eat with at least 6 naive friends and fill up your plate with whatever you want to eat. Sound heavenly? It's about to. Let the trickery begin...before anyone is allowed to eat said food, everyone must pray to God for portion control. I swear I can't make this shit up! I've said that prayer more than the Hail Mary itself and it's gone unanswered more times than my cries for sex! ** Pause for sign of the cross as I fear I am being taken into the depths of hell**

Let's expand on the and your 6 dumb friends are sitting around a large table, overdressed, hand in hand, praying that you won't attack and kill whatever is on your plate. Then, after praying to the Lord for strength, you begin to shed a tear and realize that you really don't want those fries...and your burger...hell no! I don't know about you, but praying makes me hungry. In fact, the first place I go after church is to the grocery store. That is unless I'm really hungry. Then I go to McDonald's. "They" say not to go to the grocery store on an empty stomach. Just following the rules. Anyway, this lady is a whack job! As much as I believe in everything being possible through God, I am living proof that some things are just not possible! I attend church every Sunday. I pray. I am a fairly good person minus the drinking, cussing and the lust I carry for Brad Pitt. Sort of a "Mother Theresa" in black if you will. So if I can't get one prayer of portion control answered....NO ONE IS! However it appears there is money to be made in getting people to pray themselves thin. This hooka is makin a mint with her "Weigh Down" BS. If things get tight this winter I may have to shed a few tears and join her on channel 269 whilst leaving good food on the table and deceiving my fatty friends. Desperate time...desperate times.

Moving right along to the 2nd group of crazies. They believe in caloric restriction. Interesting. Fascinating. So they do the following: eat a small breakfast, smaller lunch and do jumping jacks instead of eating dinner. One word comes to mind....HUNGER! Is it a newsflash that caloric restriction results in weight loss? I don't think it takes a mental giant to wrap that one up in a bun! The problem is.....PEOPLE LIKE TO EAT AND NO ONE IS OPTING FOR JUMPING JACKS OVER APPLE JACKS, FLAP JACKS OR JACK IN THE BOX... F'RS! I shall waste no more time away from my late night snack talking about these caloric restricting cardio quacks. We have better things to talk dumpster diving!

Have you ever heard of Freegans? In a nutshell they are eating all of the food that the last two groups of whack jobs walked away from! They are dumpster divers and I love them! They move in the middle of the night and prey upon unsuspecting bags of trash left behind by the wasteful. One woman said she hadn't bought groceries in years. She simply went out at night and found what she the trash. I don't know what your trash looks like, but I'm confident she'd be hard pressed to find any value in mine! Hell, what I don't eat I lick. What I can't lick I scrape. What I can't scrape I add to water and wait. About the only thing you'll find in my trash of any use are 3 free issues of Playboy that I'm keeping from my husband. As soon as he finds out that all women don't have pot holes in their ass...I'm done for. Stir that in your coffee. As much as I was impressed by the Freegans ability to live on the waste of others, I had my concerns. How could I incorporate this lifestyle to fit a fatty? Picture are driving through the streets of NYC after attending the MET. You get caught at a red light. It's late and there's no one to call so your eyes start to wander. Off in the distance you see something emerging from a dumpster behind the local Krispy Kreme. You wait patiently trying to figure out what it is you are seeing. It's too big to be a rat and not big enough to be a garbage truck. It appears to have two sides, a split down the middle and 2 legs that get bigger at each end. As the figure pulls itself from the dumpster you can see two eyes and a face covered in glaze. Then, it lets out it's signature calling card, "Belch!" Mystery solved. I give you the Freegan Fatty. Who wants to see this? It's bad enough that we consume more than our fair share on a good day! Now we are being encouraged to steal leftovers from the less fortunate. I won't let the fatties go out like that. Until such time that we can no longer afford our 10,000 calorie a day habit, we will pay for our food. No one wins when a fatty goes Freegan. You could lose and eye looking at that.

I figure I'll be fat unless one of the following miracles takes place: Divine intervention, Cartwheels for dinner or a Freegan gives my husband porn from the dumpster. I'd say the odds are in my "flavor." I think God forgets to put in his miracle ear when it comes to my requests, I can't in fact do a cartwheel and I purposely fill the trash can with dog dung to keep away unwanted guests. Clearly I must be butter cause I'm on a roll! Badabumbum.

Monday, September 7, 2009

Rock this...

Imagine 18,000 people running through Virginia Beach, as fast as they can, at the crack of dawn to the tune of everything from old school rap to heavy metal. I bring you to the Rock-n-Roll Half Marathon 2009. What on earth does this have to do with food and fat...alot. If you know anything about running, you know that it in addition to having top notch running shoes, you must train endlessly... for pre and post race meals. "They" call it "loading" and "replenishing"....I call it... grazing. Trust me when I tell you that I've logged countless hours mastering this particular skill. It requires a delicate balance of non shock to the system (via too much healthy food) whilst replenishing fat stores. Of particular concern, post race skinny cells sending distorted messages of non-hunger. This is how many a fatty go down. If you retain nothing else, chew on this: "At no point in time is it acceptable to succumb to a message of
non-hunger!" I will provide you with a short yet effective rebuttal to such internal insults: RETURN TO SENDER! It's trickery and it's sick...just sick. A true SIF prepares for this sort of debauchery by meal planning at least 13 weeks in advance. You won't find that in Runners World, by the way. Why? Because that trash mag is run by the "other team" of course! I'd rather catch a fatty reading Cooking Light before I'd bear witness to readership of a mag run by pace making, seaweed eating Skinagers! Buy Oprah...she's a well seasoned fatty and I appreciate her willingness to exceed the caloric thresholds set forth by a society that clearly has no respect for the benefits of emotional eating. Jumping off my fat wagon...

If you've never run one of these races, you may not be able to grasp the concept of a fatty running a half marathon. Here's the trick...If you can get past the "What not to wear" crowd, the vision gets alot prettier... I promise. Yes, even the SIF struggle with exercise fashion conscientiousness. How does that old saying go...oil and water don't mix? Nor do a size 22 and spandex. Never. No matter which way you squeeze it, shake it or tuck's still a foot long sub stuffed into a sandwich bag. It's nauseating, distracting and criminal all in one glance. Not for nothin....large contents in small packages sweat more than your average cargo and 13.1 miles is a long way to travel in solitary confinement. And that will serve as the "smellovision" portion of the story.

***Pause for puking in mouth and clearing of highly disturbing visions***

Now, where were we...oh yeah...fatties are runners too. I will freely admit to being beaten by runners with far more junk in their trunk than I'm sportin. Whilst it doesn't thrill me, I'm I "get it." They have trained their feral fatty to take over when hunger pangs strike thus propelling them forward at unimaginable Kenyan like speeds. So let's say they are at...oh I don't know...mile 1 for example ...and they catch a glimpse of the "Hot and Now" sign flashing at a nearby Krispy Kreme (these dangers lurk). Someone like myself may not notice such a landmark because...well probably bcs I was smelling the bacon waffling from some seedy breakfast joint where all the smart people were. Anyway, this vision sends a signal to their inner feral fatty, which in turn sends a signal to the brain to pick up the pace and then before you know it...the fatties have their own car following them to the finish (runners will "get that"-- all others should become runners if they want to get my jokes-- get crackin). As you can see, I don't stand a chance against a feral, spandexed fatty screaming, "Hot and Now" whilst running for the finish. Personally, I save that phrase for sex, and as you are well aware, I don't get to use it often. Moving right along...

I always enjoy the pre-race expo because...well because they give out free food! Granted we are talking power bars that taste like sand covered road kill and the crowd favorite....smoothies laced with everything you would never eat if you tasted it solo...but you gotta play the game. You walk slowly by these evil vendors and say things like, "Oh sorry, I'm allergic to nuts"
or "Yeah, gosh gee I wish I wasn't lactose intolerant." It allows for a smooth transition to the vendor with "my kinda power bar"...Snicka's! Yes, that's in the candy bar. Instead of taking cardboard and trying to make it taste like a candy bar, they take a candy bar and hide the cardboard! It's freakin genius. Don't even know that shizzle is in there! That's how ya do it folks! God I wish more runners were fat so they could appreciate these sorts of gems! Are you even processing the fact that you can eat a candy bar whilst you are running....OK I'm getting too worked up...must move along or I may have to run to the 7-11 for one...

After the grazing portion of the expo you have to do official stuff like pick up your T-shirt....the second reason I run. Why they give this out before the race has always baffled me. Feed me, cloth me and expect me to show up for the race...high unlikely. When I gave my credentials to the T-shirt man to retrieve said apparel he said the following, "Large?" Where does it end, I ask you? I decided he needed a good dose of my sarcasm, "Objects in front of you may appear smaller than they actually are." He wasn't amused. Nor was I. Then it was off to buy food in the form of "Goo." Liquid motivation if you will....for those of us who's feral fatty likes to nap whilst running, this sugar filled spooge provides a little kick until such time as post race grazing can commence. After consuming everything free, I decided it was time for some the form of a pre-race graze. Typically, I eat 3 or 4 plates of pasta, a couple loves of bread and a salad drowning in Ranch. Failing to plan is planning to they say. However this year would be different as I was under the gun to make a 7 pm movie. I decided if I watched Julie & Julia, I would be adding a "food movie" to my pre-race training thus securing my position as the 17,999 finisher. I know...I am so FREAKIN good!

No part of my plan included entering a fine Italian restaurant that smelled of fresh bread and homemade pasta sauce, only to have a glass of water and leave! I dare say I'm still scarred by this experience. However, when you have 25 minutes to eat, you need a place where you can shovel and run. I bring you to the Golden Corral. I venture to guess that Tara and I were the ONLY runners patronizing this 5 star establishment. Look...with 10 bucks and 25 minutes things get ugly fast. To spare Tara's reputation as a cross over fatty I will only say this, "That bitch can eat!"...and I'll leave it at that. Ok I thought I could stop there but I can't....there were patrons (being kind) sitting adjacent to us... clearly without dental plans, making payments on pick up trucks with fly strips denoting their bitches, spending their last $10 on dinner... only to be mortified by the shit shoveling hussie across from me who drove to the Corizzle in a Beamer that refuses to make pit stops at Walmart! Me, I just ate my 10 plates under the cover of fat. Given the clientele, I run on the lighter side. Had to save room for the movie, so I forceably removed Tara from her plate.

The movie was great! Every other word was butter or writer! Harmonious. I failed to mention the pit stop I made at Target for movie essentials. Pretty much everything from Swedish Fish to Twizzlers. What's candy without popcorn? A crime! I ate my way through an entire bag of popcorn, a few hundred Junior Mints and half a pail of lemonade. I was as close to comatose as one could get. Of course I couldn't get my pre-race sleep on bcs I kept thinking about going out to breakfast instead of running. It didn't help that Tara agreed to the plan on race morning. Damn I need new friends! "You don't look fat....we don't have to run...let's go to breakfast." Who needs enemies with friends like this, I ask you?! Somehow we managed to pull off a great run. I've gone over it 100 times....must have been the Corizzle/movie combo. I'll be doing that again next year. 13.1 miles aint that far to go for a whole day of post race eating! My ritual is as follows: wake 5am, run 7am, McDonald's 12 pm and 12:10pm - midnight....everything from the left over! God I love running.

I certainly didn't finish first and I was fortunate enough not to be last. Every year I dream of running faster than the last. When that doesn't happen, I fall back on fatty logic for comfort. FAST is just FAT without an S. I can think of alot better things to do with an "S" sleep, sex and see Brad Pitt. And I'm spent!