Well, it happened. I fell off the wagon this past weekend. I fell hard. In fact, I’d say I took a running leap and tucked and rolled off that wagon. Obviously the universe wants me to be chunky. There must be some divine purpose for me to remain pleasantly plump, so who am I to argue with it? Here’s why failing at my diet is not my fault:
1. Exercising is hard. Especially when you’re already fat and you are forced to do any exercise in the few spare moments you have. And ESPECIALLY when those few moments are usually shared with your thin and trim sister who constantly says, “You’re not supposed to sit down in between. Hey…You aren’t supposed to sit down if you want it to work. Um. You might want to get some water…”
2. I twisted my ankle. Yes, you might remember the post regarding that unfortunate accident being a couple of weeks ago, but it is still swollen and hurty. I think there might be more than a simple sprain to this whole ankle debacle. Obviously I can’t be expected to do rigorous cardio on what is clearly a hopelessly useless ankle. Obviously.
3. My schedule is CRAZY busy during the week so it stands to reason that the weekend will include some libations with friends. It is common knowledge that alcohol (mostly beer) makes people have the insatiable need to munch. I am no exception. No diet or will to lose weight is strong enough to defeat the 2:00 am “Dude, I want breadsticks!” idea. Not a chance.
4. Shopping. What used to be my favorite pastime has become one angst-filled trip to the dressing room after another. Not only do I have to come to terms with the fact that it is no longer appropriate (or realistic) for me to shop in the Juniors section, I have to weed through racks and racks of “old lady clothes” to find something I can even work with. I am chubby, not fashion-retarded! This emotional rollercoaster often leads to feelings of defeat, which then leads to emotional eating. I’m sure every woman is familiar with this phenomenon. Endless cycle, I tell you. Endless.
Clearly, with all of these unstoppable forces I can’t possibly win. I am destined to use euphemisms to describe my voluptuous, curvy, healthy, rotund body forever. Or at least until next week when the feelings of hopelessness, acne, bloating and ridiculous cravings cease.