Here’s how it would work before: I would weigh myself on a Monday and maybe I was two or three pounds away from what I was comfortable with so I would adjust how I ate that week and by Saturday or at least the next Monday, I was back to the weight I wanted. Then I turned 30 and suddenly my body said, “ALL THE FATS BELONG TO US!” Like fat-hungry demon took residence on my milestone birthday and continues to laugh like the fat pig in Angry Birds Star Wars that mocks me whenever I lose and I lose all the time.
I’ve had a couple of months of great food and stiff drinks and a lot of stiff drinking which morphed into a cycle of: “I have to eat this burrito and sweet potato fries, I drank so much! I don’t want to get sick!” I’m so cautious about hangovers because they are the worst. The problem is that I think I can drink like a Viking when really I can drink like woodland fairy. But that’s a bad analogy because I would imagine the bars in the woods would be awesome! Lots of bourbon and frothy drinks in beer mugs carved out of fallen stumps and people would easily unite whenever a 90s hit came on. Do you know all the words to Salt-n-Pepa’s “Shoop”?! I knew you would. That is why we are friends.
People talk about alcohol as being empty calories but they’re never empty for me. It fills me up with so much red-faced joy. So much! I used to drink cheap beer and leave with a bar tab of no more than 10 dollars. But now that I’ve opted for drinks with actual taste–rum with anything–I have noticed that my pants and anything that slightly hugs my body has become tighter and tighter while my wallet has been shrinking more and more.
I’m going to stop drinking for a few weeks to see how this goes, seeing as I’ve done very little exercise at all. So little! I need a change and this is a good start.