The quest for happy imperfection…

So today sucked. I spent the first part of my day in a meeting that left me feeling exhausted. By the time it was done with, I felt like I had just run a marathon, and my reward at the end was a brick. In the face. Like “Congratulations, you’ve just run almost 30 miles for no apparent reason and as a reward BAM! here’s your commemorative brick.” Which, as a side note, I’m quasi-fascinated and yet terrified by marathon runners. 26.2 miles? And you weren’t being chased by something with big teeth? Interesting. I’m not entirely sure if I admire them, or think they’re nuts. Probably a combo of both.

But after my meeting with the amazing energy suckers from Zoltron, I went back to the office and ended up going to lunch with my coworkers. Unfortunately, I really wasn’t hungry for breakfast, and trying to force yourself to eat pumpkin oatmeal isn’t a good idea. And so, unfortunately, I broke one of the cardinal rules and didn’t eat breakfast. I know. Twenty lashes for me. So we go out to eat at an awesome little cafe kind of place where you can build your own salads and they make it for you. I almost got myself to do it. Almost. But, I was realistic. I knew that I would still be hungry an hour later. See, my stomach is totally anti-salad. No matter how good it is, or how much protein is on it, I just can’t eat a salad for a meal. My stomach attempts a coup everytime. So I went for a grilled ham and cheese to satisfy the masses (or should I just say “the mass” being as I am a singular object?) Should have had soup as a side instead of fries, but lentil soup just sounded lenasty today. But, I passed on the cheeseburger with bacon, so I did make some progress. And, I ate my side salad. Even though it had sprouts, tomato, and mushrooms. (Fungus? Really? Aren’t we a little high on the food chain to be eating fungus?)

 I was still in a bit of a funk when I got home, so I decided to call a friend instead of eating myself sick. Progress. We ended up going out for dessert. Well, not so much progress. She’d already eaten dinner and so wasn’t really up for eating a second one. (Probably a good thing. If it had been a week ago, and our roles had been reversed, I probably would have just gone for it. No bueno.) But, I was good, and whipped up a quick light stir fry before I went. We got there, ordered two desserts, and went to town.  Despite the inner voices yelling “feed the void” (void? what void? you fill out my pants without room for any voids!) I put my spoon down before I wanted to vomit. (Imagine that. Self control? It was like seeing the Lochness monster! People say it exists, but has anyone other than the National Enquirer ever seen it?) In fact, I probably ate about 4 bites of each and was good.

Then things went downhill. We decided to see a movie. And you know what happens at movie theaters… popcorn. Lots of it. My kryptonite. There was no resisting. Popcorn was purchased, and subsequently covered in butter.  Somehow I thought it was a good idea to buy the large. Maybe it’s because when I picture a large, I’m thinking some sort of reasonably sized paper bag type situation. Imagine my shock when the girl shoves a kiddie pool full of popcorn at me. Huh? No wonder America is getting fat! Even I think that portion’s out of control! So I load it up in my complimentary Uhaul and watch my movie. Between the two of us, we had enough popcorn to feed the former soviet union. It’s a good thing we were the only people in that theatre, I don’t know that anyonelse would have been able to see around that thing.  When all was said and done, I probably ate about 2 cups.  Which, calorie laden? Yep! Delicious? You bet. Resttraint? Oh yeah.

I briefly considering partaking in some act of penance for my buttery transgressions. But you know what? I don’t need to. Yeah, I went over my calories a bit today. What’s it to ya? I was under yesterday. (By 350. I was actually pretty proud of that) Life evens out. And you know what, I refuse to live my life without the possibility of food parole. I’m not going to ban popcorn, or ice cream, or delectable brownies smothered in fudge. Life is too short for me to never eat anything sinfully delicious. Then again, life is too short to be fat, which is why you didn’t find me rolling around naked in the kiddie pool after finishing every single kernel of popcorn in it. Moderation, my dear friends, moderation. (I’d always heard that word and never really knew the meaning. Actually looked up the meaning of it today and it said something along the lines of stopping before reaching the outer limits of your digestive system)

Not only am I practicing moderation, but masochism as well. That’s right. A showdown of epic proportions. Me and the trampoline. Round two. I emerged victorious! I beat that piece of highly elastic equipment into submission. I am woman, see me bounce! Wait, aren’t I trying not to be bouncy anymore? No, that’s right, I just don’t want part of my body to bounce independently while the rest of me holds fast. Got it. But I got on that stupid thing and bounced away to my heart’s content. (Okay, my heart was totally content without ever getting within 10 feet of that stupid thing. But we’ll just roll with the cliches for now.) I can’t really call it “jumping”, as my feet never left the jumping surface (I’m not ready for flight just yet) but I managed to make it for 30+ minutes without crashing into the fireplace, knocking over the Christmas tree, breaking any bones, tearing any ligaments, or otherwise causing undue harm. Besides, I thing I finally showed that thing who’s boss. Yeah, that’s right. Don’t mess with the woman wearing leg warmers and a leotard. Back up off me before I get all jazzercise on your azzercise.

As a side note- thanks for all the wonderful comments. Glad to know I’m not the only one who finds this whole weight loss thing trying, testing, and absurdly humerous. Up up and away!