dailydiatribes

Everyone I know has lost weight.  Everyone.  20, 40, 60 pounds, it melts off their bodies, transforming them into what I affectionately call "skinny ass bitches".  I hate them.  I hate every single one of the SAB's and secretly, in the innermost Satanic part of my soul, where the squirrel hater resides, I find myself hoping one of them blows a ligament and is forced to go on bedrest and do nothing all day but eat Oreos and watch Oprah and get FAT!!!

I lost a lousy 15 pounds last fall when my friend Jenny died and I have kept it off, but no matter how hard I try, I can't get rid of the rest of it.  I have thought of killing off another friend (hmmm, which skinny ass bitch would look best in a coffin???) but I know I would get caught, and I don't want to lose weight on the prison food diet.  Besides, it would be so hard to choose which one to eliminate. 

So last week, I had the rather brilliant notion that I would cut carbs.  It worked for Dr. Atkins.  Ok, fine, so he's dead now, but still, he was a skinny corpse.  I started on Monday by frying myself up several strips of bacon.  I had bought the Oscar Mayer thick slice on sale at the Publix, so it was no hardship to fry and eat.  I love bacon.  I could eat bacon all day every day and never get sick of it.  The road to heaven is lined with bacon, crisply fried, thick and salty with a bit of fat on one end that melts in your mouth.  I will never be Jewish; I have too much love for bacon.

All day Monday, I was in the zone.  The first day of a diet, er, lifestyle change, is the best.  You are filled with power and conviction; there is not a doubt that you can be a size 2 by the end of the week.  Tuesday, I was feeling great.  I ate more bacon and then lots of deli meat.  I was sure the weight was melting off.

Wednesday, I grudgingly ate more bacon.  It was starting to lose its luster.  I went to lunch with Kiki the skinny ass bitch and watched despondently as she devoured two loaves of rosemary scented bread dipped in olive oil at Macaroni Grill.  I ate a salad loaded with steak and resolutely pushed the croutons to the side.  Do you even comprehend the power I exerted not to snatch the loaf from Kiki's bony fingers and shove it in my mouth, cheeks bulging with floury goodness, oil dripping onto my shirt????  That night, I took Abby to Dairy Queen and ate a grilled chicken salad while Abby and her little friends gorged themselves on chicken fingers and ice cream. 

Thursday, I went grocery shopping and loaded up on all things carbless.  I bought nuts and slim jims and turkey summer sausage (which I later threw away because it was completely disgusting) and more deli meat.  As God as my witness, I told myself, I will lose five pounds before Monday.  I went home and put it all away, grimly munching on almonds as I put the Little Debbie's high up in the pantry where I would not have to look at them every time I opened the door.

Friday I ate more bacon.  Saturday, more bacon.  Then I cheated and had Mexican for lunch.  I ate a fajita salad, but I can no more ignore chips and salsa than an alcoholic can ignore vodka.  I ate freely.  Saturday night, Don and his girls came to stay with us and I fell off the wagon slightly.  I ate three brownies and drank three strawberry  margaritas.  Separately of course.  Sunday, I was back on the wagon and I ate bacon and sausage for breakfast, ignoring the biscuits.  Sunday night I had a bunless hamburger and a salad.

And for what???  Today I weighed and I am down a pound or two, maybe.  If I went in for a blood test right now, pure bacon grease would fill up the tube and yet I am STILL FAT!!!!  I wailed, I tore my hair, I gnashed my teeth, and then I went and poured a bowl of cereal and drowned it with milk.  Because if I eat another slice of bacon I will start squealing like a pig.  Me and Ned Beatty are soulmates. 

Now I am back to square one, still fat, still surrounded by skinny ass bitches, and I am going to eat!!  So I am off to liberate the Little Debbie's from the top shelf and stuff myself silly.  Don't bother to call me because I will be coated in sugar and too bloated to move.