I don't like emotions. I mean, I do anger...but even my anger is usually sarcastic, or at the very least simply self-destructive. Mostly I just kind of hang out at equilibrium. Not too high, not too low. It's zen in it's compartmentalized way.
The last few days I have been kind of a wreck.
Thursday was my first day trying to hit 3000 calories. I didn't quite make it, but I ate a lot and felt that I could totally handle this and it would be fine. Friday I had a great workout and was feeling very "I am so strong. Look at me deadlifting over 200# for reps like a boss." I went out for sushi with friends and ordered up 3 rolls and was all "Imma eat it ALL!"
So much food. So much water.
I ate it all, alright. But is was painful. I truly thought I was going to go full technicolor yawn after the last bite. It was delicious, and yet awful. I got home afterwards and realized I still had 3 boxes to check and I just couldn't do it. I couldn't. Fail.
Saturday was a CrossFit competition at my gym. Every year I run the equipment crew. It's fun, but it's a long day and it's fairly stressful. Since I'm supposed to be eating all this food and I knew I wouldn't get much time to eat anything sitting down, I packed a cooler full of fruit and veggies and protein bars and hummus and string cheese, etc and just sort of ate all day long. I wore elastic waist pants to conceal my food baby. All day I seesawed back and forth between ravenously hungry and so full I felt ill. There was no in-between. I didn't like it.
It was a busy day.
After the competition I still had many, many boxes to check. When I got home I decided to treat myself with a dessert...which was really high protein ice cream, a protein bar, and some peanut butter.
I really thought I was going to enjoy this more.
I couldn't finish the remaining boxes. I got close, but no cigar. It was an early night, and I was asleep around 9pm like the old lady that I am.
This morning I was hungry when I woke up, thankfully. The kids slept past 7, which is miraculous. When I woke up I had a splitting headache, so I washed some ibuprofen down with coffee and made pancakes for the smalls. Fantastic husband came home and started making hash. He offered to share with me, and since I needed those boxes, I took him up on it.
My breakfast today. It was good.
After breakfast I engaged in one of my non-exercise hobbies. Knitting. I got a kit from a mail order house and I started in on it and a fresh cup of coffee. The ibuprofen didn't help my headache.
Neither did this, really.
I paused at 10am to eat some peppers and hummus and string cheese. Use your imagination.
Fantastic husband went for a run with the psycho dog and I made myself some lunch. Alllll the egg whites in my oatmeal, and some fruit and nuts. The weirdest thing with this is my total lack of desire to eat fruit. I have less than zero interest in it, and I'm supposed to eat 4 servings per day. That shouldn't be so hard.
This was tough. I had to force feed myself.
This afternoon I went out for a run. It was somewhat unpleasant. I am very, very full almost all the time now. That means side stitches. Plus I feel as slow as a barge and about as wide.
Got to trot out the white vest, anyway.
After my run I ate some carrots and hummus and string cheese, then headed over to the box for broga. After being either stationary in a standing position or crouching or essentially swinging a 45# plate like a kettlebell all day Saturday, I needed the stretch. T had extra heaters in the room. It was nice, aside from my giant food baby belly blobbing all over the place.
What really wrecked my day today was a pair of LuLaRoe leggings my husband brought home for me. I have a few friends who sell this brand and all I ever hear is how awesome they are and how I should totally buy some. I've been on the fence. Fantastic husband wears them and loves them (don't ask). He stopped over at a dealer in our neighborhood and she gave him a pair for me to try on.
They were fucking awful.
I knew immediately upon seeing them that they weren't going to fit. Anything labeled "ONE SIZE" is deeply suspect. I should've just told husband to just fuck off back to the dealer with them. But no. I tried them on. They hit my calves and were so tight I could barely advance them up my legs. Once I had them wrestled up to waist level, the crotch was at least 2 inches below where my actual ladyparts are. So I pulled the fabric up and...they were 2 inches above my ankles. Check the mirror for underpants visibility? Yup. Polka dotted underpants fully visible through the pants. I thought to myself "maybe a little activity will loosen them up".
Stupid, stupid me.
They look like they reach my ankles here because
they have abandoned my ladygarden.
One size. YOU SIT ON A THRONE OF LIES.
A bigger, fatter ass than some men out there
apparently.
Fantastic husband wears a size LLR brands "Tall and Curvy". He had a clean pair so I tried those on, too. Keep in mind that I once told FH that if we ever wore the same size pants I'd throw myself off a bridge. I like my men taller than me, substantially broader than me, and overall BIGGER than me. I'm a big woman and I like big men. Maybe that's sexist or something, but it's my thing. I approached the TC leggings with trepidation. If 4 days of 3000 calories put me in the same size pants as FH I was pretty much going to cry.
They fit like a bag.
So I'm too fat for the OS and not "curvy" enough for the TC. FINE LLR, I'M SOME KIND OF PHYSICAL FREAK. GOT IT. THANKS.
See what I mean? Emotional.
I have a LLR dress on order. I am less than hopeful regarding the fit. Right now I'm in full on Fuck You mode regarding it. I started today just feeling kinda chubby, but like it was going to be ok. I ended the day feeling like a goddamn hippopotamus. A big, freakishly shaped radioactive goddamn hippopotamus.
I'm wearing my fat shirt.
Wanna fight about it?
You should be glad I hated those stupid leggings. More for you, 347 women who are going to comment on this post to tell me how much you puffy unicorn heart your LuLaRoe leggings. Go ahead. Use the word buttery so I can slap it out of your mouth.
After showering and pulling myself together, I headed downstairs to eat again.
I needed to put protein down without volume.
Protein shake FTW.
Then I still had to eat because I still had some motherfucking boxes to check.
It was at this moment I began to hate food.
But I ate. I shoved all the food into my big, fat, freakishly shaped goddamn fucking mouth and BEHOLD.
Every stupid fucking box checked.
And now I'm at work and I have to start eating again in about 90 minutes. And I don't want to. Because I hate food. If I never had to eat again it would be too soon.
Someone told me yesterday that they wished they could get a pass to eat this much. HERE. TAKE IT. I hate this. I am just ANGRY and SAD and my body is STUPID and HUGE and SLOW.
Jesus. I need it to be Thursday. I'm gonna tear the head off a goddamn lion.
Now if you'll excuse me I need to fill up my water pitcher so that I'll be plenty hydrated for the epic cry I'm going to have when I get home tomorrow morning.
And I still have that fucking headache.
No comments:
Post a Comment