BLUE MOO-D

Why does it have to be so hard?

Depression can make you not care.

I walked past the bakery today and noticed pumpkin cheesecake. Um…just kill me. Take a knife, stab me, beat me to a pulp with a baseball bat, chop me into little bits, then put me in the meat grinder to be made into burgers.

Seriously~it’s torture.

I wanted it. I wanted it bad. And no, I can’t have it, because I have no self control around it. I’ve been cursed with a sweet tooth. If I knew which one it was I’d yank it out!

I have to deprive myself of 3,500 calories just to lose one pound. UGH… It’s all fun and games until your stomach mushrooms like an atomic bomb and your jeans don’t fit.

It’s coming off so slowly. I know…I know, one to two pounds a week is a healthy way to take it off, but it’s going so slow I feel like I’m a hippopotamus time traveller going backward.

We live in a society where we are used to having instant results. That’s not going to happen. It could take me over a year to get to the weight I want to be. Then maintaining it is a whole other nightmare.

Yes, it’s a nightmare. Why? Because I don’t want to be freakin’ fat. Ha ha! I don’t want to gain it back. I’ve heard so many failure stories and I don’t want to add myself to that list of losers. And it’s not the good kind of loser.

I realise I should be focusing on my accomplishment of losing forty-two pounds. I should also be proud of myself for having some self control around the pumpkin cheesecake.

I just have to glance at a carb and I start to look like I belong in a Jurassic theme park. High fructose corn syrup, partially hydrogenated oil and bleached white flour seems to be in everything.

I feel a disconnect. I love food but I also fucking resent it at the same time.

I feel like a woman in labour and food is my husband. I’m crushing his hand and screaming, “YOU DID THIS TO ME!”

I wonder if I will ever have a good relationship with food or if I’ll always be headed to divorce court?

I know I can’t be the only one who feels this way.

~GW

My Weight Loss Story

I changed my diet on April 28th, 2019. I’m loosely following a Paleo diet and so far I’ve lost forty-two pounds. As you start to get older, it’s not even about being skinny anymore, it’s all about trying to avoid disaster. My friends sometimes wonder why I’m so persistant with my diet and weight loss.

Well, let me explain my story…

My parents had a horrible diet. I say had, because they are no longer with us.

I remember visiting them, opening their deep freezer and peering down into its depths in shock. Piles and piles of Eggo waffles were crammed into it. I’d never seen so many fucking Eggos in one place.

I turned toward my mother and said, “holy shit, whose Eggo waffles are these?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, those are your Dad’s.”

Between them they both consumed a cocktail of about twenty different medications for a multitude of different conditions. Diabetes, osteoarthritis, arthritis, thyroid, cholesterol, high blood pressure, Parkensons, dementia, depression, stroke and seizures. I mean, both of them were the poster children for disease.

My Mom and Dad kept saying, “I wish I didn’t have to take so many pills.”

Yeah, no shit…

It kind of pisses me off, because many of these diseases are diet related. The Doctor who prescribed all their medications, why couldn’t he tell them to stop eating crap? I lost both of my parents far too early.

Their health scared me really badly. I did not want to go down that same road.

My blood pressure started to get a little concerning so I changed my diet and now it has returned to normal. I’m feeling a lot better and I’m not on any pills. I don’t want to be sick and I’m willing to do anything to avoid that same fate.

Pharma pills and processed foods are deadly. DEADLY! It freakin’ bothers me every single day.

It’s sad. Life did not end well for either one of my parents and it was really painful to watch. I can’t forget what happened to them.

When my mother died in agony right in front of me and I had to watch her being taken away in a body bag, a piece of me died that day too.

Yes, I know there are no guarantees in life, but there’s no doubt about it. Food is medicine or poison. It can heal you, or it can destroy you.

It’s definitely something to think about.

~GW

Diet Riot

The one thing that annoys me the most about diets, is that there are too many of them. Of course, every know-it-all on the planet feels they have the answer. What I have noticed through the years though, is that very few people actually keep the weight off. The problem is that as a society we are creatures of habit, and that creature happens to be a glutonous sow. Habits are hard to break. Let’s face it, nobody wants to grow as big as a double decker bus. One must be somewhat dilligent, however, the road to healthy eating is about as smooth as eating a bowl of gravel.
I start off doing really well. I eat healthy oatmeal with fruit for breakfast, a nice salad for lunch, but by the time the evening rolls around, I stand at the fridge like Jason in a horror flick looking at the cheese like I’m about to mass murder. The hardest part is eating the right foods so that you aren’t depriving your body and end up looking as old as a wrinkled knee cap. Everyone seems to have a different idea about what is healthy and what isn’t.
I wouldn’t say I have no will power. I can go for a decent length of time denying myself of what I really want to eat. But folks, when I start craving something it speaks to me like I’ve summoned a hellhound on my shoulder, and I become as weak as a one hundred year old arm wrestling grandmother. It also doesnt help that I work in a supermarket, ringing in a million different delicous, death trap morsels every day.
A few days ago this fellow walked into my place of employment with his girlfriend yammering about how they are both on a high fat diet and they both lost seventy pounds. I scrunched my eyebrows and inspected both of them for a moment in disbelief. I eyeballed them up and down. They both looked like runway models. “You can still eat chicken wings and cheese,” he continued. “Don’t screw with me, man,” is all I could think of to say. I honestly thought he’d lost his marbles. Either that, or he was running in a pagent as a world class douche in denial. I pondered about his diet for a moment. All I could invision in my mind is every artery in my body clogging up with plaque, like a street vegabond with a gob of crusty teeth, and then exploding into a massive heart attack.
Yes, I know that if you can’t pick it, pluck it or shoot it, it’s not real food. However this journey is about as easy as fitting a wort hog through the eye of a needle. I know you are probably thinking this is a lifestyle change and not a diet, but don’t kid yourself. It’s still a diet. Or perhaps torture. You may as well just pull out my fingernails with rusty pliers, one by one.