KillerPink
The first punches thrown in a long fight
Nov 01, 2008
You know how everyone needs their support system? Well right now I'm feeling like mine kinda called in sick for the day with this little speech:
me: "Yes this is going to be hard. But I need to do this. That look on your face makes me feel like you give up on me already. You can't give up on me yet, I haven't even started! I start monday!"
supportsystem: "I haven't given up on you. To give up on you I have to have faith in you to begin with. I know you'll start I know you'll start strong. But then it'll get hard and you'll forget to eat and I'll ask you if you filled out your food journal and you'll get mad cause I'm being pushy then you'll quit cause you actually have to TRY and before you know it you're not doing it anymore and you wasted $600 of my money. That's how this is going to go."
ouch.
magic 8 ball says: Outlook not so good.
current mood: pretty fuckin betrayed.
anyway while I'm harping about shit I'm feeling betrayed about lets take a moment to discuss medical professionals and their scam.
Why is it when I was told I had PCO (polycystic ovaries) nobody told me about all the shit that went with it other than not really getting your period?
Phhh a disease that means I can skip periods?? Sign me up for 2!
Yeah, just kidding. So here are some things going on in the last 3 years (since the onset of the PCO) that I am JUST NOW finding out are PCO issues.
1. My hair is falling out.:What. The. Fuck. I had this full luxurious mane and now I'm thinning right on top. Not so much of an issue if you're 6 foot 8 and nobody can SEE the top of your head but just kidding I'm 4 foot 10 so ALL anyone can see is the top of my head.
2. Acne and Oily skin: Ok I've never had bad skin in my life and all of a sudden its like a very special puberty episode of the Brady Bunch is happening on my face.
3. Cysts: Speaking of acne now I get cysts everywhere else too? underarms, thighs, glutes... how sexy is THAT shit. Oh and as a bonus when they heal they leave blackish spots. Woot! I'm a dalmation!
4. Dandruff: The icing on my cake. Totally.
Really?? Like I don't have enough tragedies in my life? Now I get to be a fat oily skinned flakey cystic mess whose support system has no faith in them?
lol.
Lets just file this under "S" for "Shoot me in the face"
me: "Yes this is going to be hard. But I need to do this. That look on your face makes me feel like you give up on me already. You can't give up on me yet, I haven't even started! I start monday!"
supportsystem: "I haven't given up on you. To give up on you I have to have faith in you to begin with. I know you'll start I know you'll start strong. But then it'll get hard and you'll forget to eat and I'll ask you if you filled out your food journal and you'll get mad cause I'm being pushy then you'll quit cause you actually have to TRY and before you know it you're not doing it anymore and you wasted $600 of my money. That's how this is going to go."
ouch.
magic 8 ball says: Outlook not so good.
current mood: pretty fuckin betrayed.
anyway while I'm harping about shit I'm feeling betrayed about lets take a moment to discuss medical professionals and their scam.
Why is it when I was told I had PCO (polycystic ovaries) nobody told me about all the shit that went with it other than not really getting your period?
Phhh a disease that means I can skip periods?? Sign me up for 2!
Yeah, just kidding. So here are some things going on in the last 3 years (since the onset of the PCO) that I am JUST NOW finding out are PCO issues.
1. My hair is falling out.:What. The. Fuck. I had this full luxurious mane and now I'm thinning right on top. Not so much of an issue if you're 6 foot 8 and nobody can SEE the top of your head but just kidding I'm 4 foot 10 so ALL anyone can see is the top of my head.
2. Acne and Oily skin: Ok I've never had bad skin in my life and all of a sudden its like a very special puberty episode of the Brady Bunch is happening on my face.
3. Cysts: Speaking of acne now I get cysts everywhere else too? underarms, thighs, glutes... how sexy is THAT shit. Oh and as a bonus when they heal they leave blackish spots. Woot! I'm a dalmation!
4. Dandruff: The icing on my cake. Totally.
Really?? Like I don't have enough tragedies in my life? Now I get to be a fat oily skinned flakey cystic mess whose support system has no faith in them?
lol.
Lets just file this under "S" for "Shoot me in the face"
Phhhh (alternately titled - a Prenuptual letter to my diet)
Nov 01, 2008
I don't even really know what to put here. Do I pour out my soul? Do I fling open closet doors revealing all my skeletons? Do I type some witty banter that nobody really gives a shit about?
I'm sitting alone in the "game room" at my apartment. I hate that I spend most of my time alone even though I'm married to an amazing man and we have a beautiful daughter - I guess its all part and parcel of starting a new business and a new career in a new field. You learn to love your laptop... and then realize pretty quickly that the thin line between love and hate isnt a line so much as a hair trigger.
It's saturday night. 9:33 p.m. I am consuming one of my last glasses of coca cola about to go indulge in one of my last pieces of chocolate mousse pie. Not because I'm delusional and I think I'll never be able to eat one of these things again, but because I am just not quite ready to jump on the surgery train so I have decided to give diet and exercise yet another chance. I swear it's like an abusive relationship ... we do great for a while then all of a sudden it just doesn't seem to work anymore so you're hurt, you're confused, you feel like a failure, you go through the motions then eventually you just give up all together - till the next time that diet sweet-talks its way back into your life with promises of roses and romance and how much better it'll be this time around.
"It'll be different. I promise. I'm not the same as I used to be."
I'm getting a little tired of being conned by these sweet-talking smooth-criminal diets. Yeah, atkins, It sounds perfectly reasonable that I can't eat a freakin potato or some home-made organic pasta but feel free to slam the pork chops ladies, they're 2-4-1 till midnight! Buuuuuuuuut I'm a hopeless romantic and I keep thinking back to the good times, the honeymoon ... the time when everything works and those first 20 or 30 lbs melt off like butter. (Nobody ever botherred to tell me that was probably just water weight) ... still I think back to that thrill, that rush of success and I let you back in oh diet. I think about how happy we were together, how everyone would stop us and say how great we looked... ahhh the glow of young love. I was stupid before. I was naive to think you could just swoop in and solve all my problems like some knight in shining spandex, your John Basedow six-pack abs, and your buns of steel - weilding your shield of metabolifes and your trusty thigh-master as your weapon against my low self esteem. Your Tony Little battle cries of "YOU CAN DO IT!!" ringing in my ear...
uh uh
No. Way.
Not this time, mister.
This time we do it my way.
It WILL be different this time, not because YOU are different this time, but because I am different this time.
I am not the weak-willed little doormat you once knew. There are ground rules this time, and I have a support team this time. People to keep me (and YOU, Mr. Diet) in check. I have joined quick weight loss. I have spent quite a bit of money on this. This time I will have doctors and nurses and nutritionists and a support team on my side instead of just Richard Simmons and Susan Powter blaring through my TV. I mean dude - much love for hot bleached blonde pierced tattooed lesbian fitness gurus but for real I can only take so much screaming at me. (Have I mentioned though that she's totally one of my girl crushes? Her and Joan Jett... yeah. I am all about that intelligent articulate tough chick sandwich)
Aaaaaaaaaaanyway here's the deal.
You get one year, diet. You get 52 weeks of my total devotion. I will move hell and high water to do as you need me to do. Either you do your part, or this marriage is over, and I am NOT coming back this time. I refuse to be ruled by my weight anymore and part of that is not being ruled by diets that don't work for me or are impossible to follow unless you're a gazillionaire or on a tv show where food is given to you.
Cause seriously - I can't afford to eat tuna sashimi as every meal no matter how much you say lean fish is good for me.
lol. Great, now I'm watching Susan Powter videos on YouTube and craving sushi.
TOTALLY OFF TRACK ERICA
lol.
I'm sitting alone in the "game room" at my apartment. I hate that I spend most of my time alone even though I'm married to an amazing man and we have a beautiful daughter - I guess its all part and parcel of starting a new business and a new career in a new field. You learn to love your laptop... and then realize pretty quickly that the thin line between love and hate isnt a line so much as a hair trigger.
It's saturday night. 9:33 p.m. I am consuming one of my last glasses of coca cola about to go indulge in one of my last pieces of chocolate mousse pie. Not because I'm delusional and I think I'll never be able to eat one of these things again, but because I am just not quite ready to jump on the surgery train so I have decided to give diet and exercise yet another chance. I swear it's like an abusive relationship ... we do great for a while then all of a sudden it just doesn't seem to work anymore so you're hurt, you're confused, you feel like a failure, you go through the motions then eventually you just give up all together - till the next time that diet sweet-talks its way back into your life with promises of roses and romance and how much better it'll be this time around.
"It'll be different. I promise. I'm not the same as I used to be."
I'm getting a little tired of being conned by these sweet-talking smooth-criminal diets. Yeah, atkins, It sounds perfectly reasonable that I can't eat a freakin potato or some home-made organic pasta but feel free to slam the pork chops ladies, they're 2-4-1 till midnight! Buuuuuuuuut I'm a hopeless romantic and I keep thinking back to the good times, the honeymoon ... the time when everything works and those first 20 or 30 lbs melt off like butter. (Nobody ever botherred to tell me that was probably just water weight) ... still I think back to that thrill, that rush of success and I let you back in oh diet. I think about how happy we were together, how everyone would stop us and say how great we looked... ahhh the glow of young love. I was stupid before. I was naive to think you could just swoop in and solve all my problems like some knight in shining spandex, your John Basedow six-pack abs, and your buns of steel - weilding your shield of metabolifes and your trusty thigh-master as your weapon against my low self esteem. Your Tony Little battle cries of "YOU CAN DO IT!!" ringing in my ear...
uh uh
No. Way.
Not this time, mister.
This time we do it my way.
It WILL be different this time, not because YOU are different this time, but because I am different this time.
I am not the weak-willed little doormat you once knew. There are ground rules this time, and I have a support team this time. People to keep me (and YOU, Mr. Diet) in check. I have joined quick weight loss. I have spent quite a bit of money on this. This time I will have doctors and nurses and nutritionists and a support team on my side instead of just Richard Simmons and Susan Powter blaring through my TV. I mean dude - much love for hot bleached blonde pierced tattooed lesbian fitness gurus but for real I can only take so much screaming at me. (Have I mentioned though that she's totally one of my girl crushes? Her and Joan Jett... yeah. I am all about that intelligent articulate tough chick sandwich)
Aaaaaaaaaaanyway here's the deal.
You get one year, diet. You get 52 weeks of my total devotion. I will move hell and high water to do as you need me to do. Either you do your part, or this marriage is over, and I am NOT coming back this time. I refuse to be ruled by my weight anymore and part of that is not being ruled by diets that don't work for me or are impossible to follow unless you're a gazillionaire or on a tv show where food is given to you.
Cause seriously - I can't afford to eat tuna sashimi as every meal no matter how much you say lean fish is good for me.
lol. Great, now I'm watching Susan Powter videos on YouTube and craving sushi.
TOTALLY OFF TRACK ERICA
lol.
