Just Shoot Me

This may sound a little depressing, but I can assure you, I am of sound (ish) mind.

So, about 10 years ago I started some kind of weight loss extravaganza. Not the first. I had just passed 250  pounds and I was depressed. While talking to my little sister Becki, I told her that if ever I gained enough weight to pass the 300 pound mark that she has my permission to please shoot me.  Well shit. (sorry Becki, she hates when I swear) Today just happened to be that day. Becki if you would like to, you had my permission 10 years ago. I feel it should be done with something that looks fancy, like this.

Weight loss has been such a pain in my butt. Literally and figuratively. Last year about this time I had just hit a very hard plateau from loosing almost 40 pounds. I was at my thinnest in about 8 years. I felt good. Then this plateau hit very hard, so after 3 months of working out 45-90 minutes a day and eating right and not loosing one pound I was done trying that hard. I maintained my weight for a long time, then I got depressed. Blast that wretched bain on my existence.

It got bad, so I got on happy pills. However, these happy pills make you gain weight and before I knew it all my hard work was back on my ass. I saw this as more depressing than why I was on medication and I had worked through my problems, so I got off the anti-depressants that create more depression.  Getting off the pills has not stopped the weight gain so I am convinced that someone is sneaking into my house at night and intravenously administering fat right into my thighs. It absolutely has nothing to do with the way that I eat and don't work out.

300 was just bound to happen this year. I turned 30 so why not just times that by ten and turn it into fat.

So this means I have my work cut out for me.  If any of you would like to strap me to your body in the morning and take me for a run I am in. The dogs may get a little jealous but they will get over it. I cannot do any type of medium to high impact working out right now so you will have to do the work. Or if I happen to owe you a pound of flesh, please, take ten (from my stomach, thighs, or butt, there will be no taking it out of my boobs, been there, done that).

Because I have dealt with this for so long I have had my fair share of people telling me that I am fat or that I need to loose weight. Of course, this is always approached "with all the love in the world." Some of these instances have been quite tactful, others have kind of missed the mark. My favorite one was this last birthday. I was at work. Everyone gets a cake for their birthday. It's just something that they do. We sing. Someone blows out candles. Then everyone gets a piece of the cake. So this year I get called to the front desk and they surprise me by singing and I look over and see a pile of fruit with one lone cake pop sticking out of the top. The pile of fruit is covered in candles and enflamed. Gracefully I blow out my candles and laugh. My boss then announces to everyone that she didn't want to get me a cake because I'm trying to loose weight and, "this time you're really going to do it!" I proceeded to grab the cake pop and shove it in my face.

This is the type of unwelcome statement that an overweight person does not want to hear. I once found a book called "People Who Deserve It: Socially Responsible Reasons to Punch Someone in the Face." This whole senario should definitely be in there.

I truly believe that there are people out there who genuinely want to help you out. To these people, use a code word so your friend won't get pissed. My code word is blarfengar. If you want to show your concern for my weight, you must preface it with blarfengar. That way I know that it is coming from your heart and I should ignore the feeling that I get to punch you in the face.

I need to go hide from my sister now who is somewhere with a fancy gun.

Suck it.