April 28, 2008

God broke my knee.

I went to the doctor today because my knee is in serious pain. It's the same pain I've experienced for 10 years but only recently has caused me to actually scale back on my running/soccer.

The good news is that the doctor is CUTE. He's tall and graying and smart.

The bad news is that I'm having an MRI tomorrow and possibly surgery.

The other bad news is that this doctor did NOT ask me to marry him.

The other good news is that if I have surgery I'll get to see him again anyway.

April 27, 2008

False starts.

This is how last night went for me:

The Man: Do you want to get Madame K's pizza, or maybe make that marinated steak stuff that we like?
Me: No, both are not really the kind of thing I need to be eating these days.

So we go to the store to buy some kind of healthy dinner and this is what we find at the store:

Whole crabs
Bigass loaf of French bread with butter and garlic
Ice cream to go with pie
An orange for my Lillet

There you go. Healthy fucking meal.

Presently my urine smells like I live at the Monterey Aquarium, and I feel like the whale that escaped from it.

Might be time to tell Jon, "You know all those other I'm-Gonna-Eat-Better false starts? You gotta help me here, man."

Gratuitous photo of the Patron Saint of Hotness

April 26, 2008

RantRantRantRant (say it fast, it's fun).

Let me preface this post by admitting that I am a jealous bitch in 1,000 ways.
I want to be skinny. BAD.

That said, I think getting weight loss surgery sucks. I think it's stupid and I am disgusted by it.

I have lost a shitload of weight in my life. Back and forth, back and forth. I have tried EVERY diet. I lose a little and then gain a little (plus a lot more sometimes). I know exactly how to get skinny. Each time I have gotten fat, it's always been a choice, i.e. "peanut butter cups make a lot better sense to me right now than salads and chicken." I have incredible willpower and yet at the same time, I can be just stupid (and fat.) So, to see someone just give up, go get their stomach stapled and strapped and cut into bits, makes me insane.

Why be such a wiener? Why not just buckle down and fucking DIET? If your brain is so crazy that you can't stick with a diet, any diet/the right diet for you after trial and error, go get some therapy! DO SOMETHING FOR YOURSELF. Why cut yourself up, undergo the risks of surgery, jack up your body with malnutrition, etc. when you could fix the underlying problem, your brain?

Are you lazy? Truthfully, I am asking you in the kindest way are you just lazy?

You'd think I'd be the most compassionate person in the world and I totally am in so many areas. But this diet surgery makes me fawking inSANE.

Update: Hot, Damn Hot.

The Wednesday Bikram kicked my ass for 3 days straight.
I went to the class Wednesday night. On Thursday it was hard for me to breathe because all the muscles in my back were on fire when I moved. On Friday it was still hard for me to sit on the toilet because my hamstrings were overstrung and I couldn't squat without a lot of noise. Today, Saturday, things were looking up. I was successfully able to swing myself out of bed without crying.

So I took another class.

Today: it was somehow HOTTER if that's possible. And the people in the class were totally mean and snooty. However, I managed to cry a little less during the class - and yet was sweating more. In fact, I actually had a steady stream of sweat rolling down my neck into the mass of boobs squished into my sports bra and then when I'd lie down, the stream would woosh back from the boobmass onto my neck and the floor.

I have one more class left in my package.

April 23, 2008

Bring it, yogi!

I have a lot of good ideas about how to lose weight fast:

1. cut off my hair

2. cut off my arm

3. sweat a lot.

Tonight, for the first time in the history of time, I went to Bikram yoga.

Let me tell you, sister, it was goddamn HOT in there.

And did you know it's not all peaceful and deep breathing and shit? The teacher was sitting in a chair off to the side barking commands at us in one of these air conditoner necklaces I AM SURE

Have I mentioned that it was goddamn hot in there? And that I was sweating like a fat man?(like a man FATTER than I currently am.)

Tomorrow I will be 15 pounds thinner. I guarantee it.

I signed up for 3 more classes.

April 20, 2008

Happy Birthday

I went to another fancy birthday dinner this weekend. (People please. Enough with the fancy restaurants already. Take me to Chili's and let's have a blooming onion or something.)
In addition to guzzling a magnum of prosecco, I ordered a salad of mozzarella and tomaotoes and basil because I can pick those things apart and figure out how much I am eating. So, it comes. And, typical, there's an artistic smear of green chunky sauce in the middle of the plate. I ask the gorgeous waiter what it is, might it be pesto?

Gorgeous: no, it's fresh basil.
Me (in my head): bullshit. I see the fresh basil leaves.
Me (outloud): Um, no I mean the green liquidy stuff.
G: ::gone::
Me: (waving Gorgeous back): So, is this like pesto? Is it pine nuts? Because I'm allergic to nuts. I mean, it's not that I don't like nuts. It's that if I eat them I will die. Like, right here at your table. I'll DIE.
Me (in my head): comprende? Jesus! Are you trying to kill me?
G: No no no, it's an aioli of fresh basil.
Me (in my head): bullshit.

Gorgeous goes away. I don't eat. Gorgeous comes back.

G: Oh, I spoke with the chef and now the aioli is made with pesto. Let me take that away and bring you a new one.
Me (in my head): NOW? Just now he's making it with pine nuts?
Me (outloud, sweetly): Oh thank you. I'd hate to die right here during this fancy birthday party.

Seriously, fancy restaurants are great. I love paying a lot of money for delicious food. But I am 50 times more likely to die at one of these places.

D, I love you. Let's go have some tequila for your birthday.

April 17, 2008

My pants aren't tight anymore, JJ!

This is what I was thinking after 3 days of eating lots of air and salmon and lettuce. (Mmmmm... air! So good!). So last night I got up from the Official Blogging Sofa and walked over and tried on these cute jeans (they look like the ones above).

And they so didn't fit any better than the last time.

And then it hit me: I had simply stretched out the other jeans.

What the motherfuck?

So there you have it. This is the way God injures me, time and again.

I am pretty sure the whole nightmare looked like this:

Mommy, what's a tummy tuck?

"It's just my way of saying I hate you and what you did to me, honey."

Read article on new children's book about why mommy is getting plastic surgery HERE.

JJ - Is it just me, or do you ever think, "By the time my body is awesome again, i am just gonna fuck it up hosting some fetus for 9 months."

April 16, 2008

Oh christ.

JJ... when you mentioned Turduken in your last post, it got me thinking "I've heard of turduken, know what it is... but I've never seen one..."

Well, this is vile. I would eat grilled rockfish and cauliflower, too, given the option to ever eat this frankenfood.

Remind me to tape this photo to my fridge.

Here's something to cleanse the palate after that eye abuse we just suffered above. Take it away, Patron Saint of Hotness:

Drunkorexia and my dog's eating disorder.

JJ - You know how the NY Times (or some publication... look, I drink when I read, I can't footnote my whole fucking online life..) recently published an article about women who basically have an eating disorder in which they try to eat, like 10 grapes a day, so that they can spend their calories on booze? (I thought this was just a quirk of mine... I didn't know it was in the Diagnostic & Statisitcal Manual.)

Anyway, my dog has his own version of it. My dog waits until 8:00 to eat, sometimes later, when he's exhausted all hope that he's going to get a secret pile of cheese from me as I make burritos, or maybe leftover chicken from our dinner. He's a fucking pig, that pug.

Do you think I have given Rickey food issues? I hate it when people let their pets get fat. I also hate it when people start to look like their pets. This is going from bad to worse.

So, clearly the answer to this problem is: I need to buy Rickey a treadmill. Pronto.

Anyhoo - - let's get back to these drunk bitches:

Here are the highlights:

Drunkorexia is not an official medical term. But it hints at a troubling phenomenon in addiction and eating disorders. Among those who are described as drunkorexics are college-age binge drinkers, typically women, who starve all day to offset the calories in the alcohol they consume. The term is also associated with serious eating disorders, particularly bulimia, which often involve behavior like bingeing on food — and alcohol — and then purging.

“In the beginning of my eating disorder I wouldn’t touch alcohol because it is so high in calories,” said Ms. Van De Veen, who later found herself regularly hospitalized for dehydration. “But I have the disease of more: I just want more no matter what it is.”

First of all, no one is named Van De Veen, so I think this article is totally fake. Probably written by Ruth Shalit. But whatever.

“The alcohol is probably what kept any weight on me,” she said in an interview late last month at the Renfrew Center, which she entered on New Year’s Eve for eight weeks of treatment.

She just wants to be punched. CAN YOU EVEN IMAGINE SAYING THAT? JJ - can you imagine me, little D, saying "Wow, remember when I was such a waif and I was dying? Thank god I was into the booze." I am jealous of her drinky diet.

“People are finally beginning to realize that food can function in the same way as drugs and alcohol,” Dr. Evans said.
Um, really? This is as stunning as the timely realization by scientists that cigarettes caused cancer. Way to stay on top of your shit, researchers.

I have been drunkorexic accidentally, and only accidentally. I mean, I have to be pretty drunk to forget to eat. Because the first thing alcohol loosens up are inhibitions, and let me tell you, chicken wings and Taco Bell start to sound really good when you've had that 4th (and deadly) martini.

Read it all HERE.

Fuck Mother Fucking Weight Watchers.

Turducken! Ha. Yes.

Restaurants. They can never just serve up grilled shrimp, right? It's always got to be "Stuff JJ Can Eat Dipped In Batter, Fried, And Then Stuffed Into A Bloomin' Onion." Lovely.

JJ, my backfat is bothering me. Not just that I *have* it. That bothered me like 3 months ago, so it's old news. It's bothering me MORE. I don't just have that under-bra fold of fat... I have 3 pound chicken cutlets of flesh dangling off of my shoulder blades.

That is fucked up.

Also, I thought I would give Weight Watchers a whirl. What a joke. I signed up and tried to cancel immediately:

I will spare you all 8 email messages I exchanged with them, but thought I would share the best parts:


Dear D,

When you subscribed to Weight Watchers® Online and submitted your payment, you agreed to the terms and conditions set forth in the Subscription Agreement. The individual subscriber is responsible for the terms of their subscription including the price plan under which they are billed. Due to these terms, you are eligible to receive a $18.10 refund.

However, while it is not our policy, customer service is very important to us and we have been authorized to credit your account for $35.05. This credit covers your subscription cost less the non-refundable $29.95 sign-up fee. The Subscription Agreement specifies that the sign-up fee is non-refundable. You should see this credit on your next credit card statement. Your subscriber account has been cancelled effective today.

The sign-up fee gives you access to proprietary information (including explanatory information concerning the Weight Watchers diet), whereas the monthly fee gives you access to the tools and resources to follow the diet on the Web.

Much like a buying a CD, DVD or software, what you purchased is predominantly proprietary intellectual property (the music, the movie or the program). Like many companies who sell these products, our policy is that once you have access to the product, your payment is non-refundable. As we have no way of knowing if or how much of the diet you have used for your personal benefit, we cannot refund the sign-up fee.

By clicking on the link below, you may refer to our subscription agreement for additional inquiries you may have regarding our refund policies.


Customer Service Associate


Hi Tracey,

I thank you for your help. We have certainly made progress.

As you see from my messages below, I am completely underwhelmed by the service I found on your site. You indicate that you are withholding the $29.95 because "much like a CD" I have somehow accessed magical proprietary information.

I am especially amused by this statement:

"As we have no way of knowing if or how much of the diet you have used for your personal benefit, we cannot refund the sign-up fee." Well, in the less than hour I spent on your site, I realized it had (a) poor user interface. It was hardly intuitive for me to even figure out where to enter my goal weight and (b) it told me nothing about a non-point-counting diet (basically YOUR company's rip-off of Atkins or South Beach) that can't be found here, in its entirety:


I hope you and your company understand, I was hoping - PRAYING - for some kind of magical "proprietary" information to help me lose some weight and get into shape. What I found in my less-than-60 minutes of cruising around your site as a member is nothing of the sort. I can't even imagine what this "proprietary" information is on your site.

I would like the full amount refunded. This is the 3rd time I have had to ask. I do not understand why I have to keep asking for this. Why do I get better service from Nordstrom or Lowe's? Even other online subscription services with truly proprietary information have been far more accommodating. If someone tells them "Sorry, but I am underwhelmed by the service you offer," most companies would shrink in embarrassment and simply refund the money.

I have a LOT of time on my hands. Please do not make me use it to waste your company resources in pursuing my full refund. I will.

Kindest regards,

Don't mess with a hungry bitch. That's all I'm sayin'.

April 15, 2008

And you want to know something else?

I went to a dinner party tonight at a fancy pants French restaurant, Zoe. It had a fabulous menu with all sorts of foods mixed with all sorts of other foods. My problem: I need to eat 4 oz of protein and 8 oz of vegetables. Is there any single thing on the menu that's JUST a single protein? No. Everything is a freaking tur-duck-hen frankenfood.

I thought the server was going to D-I-E that I asked for a simple seared rockfish and simple cauliflower. He was S-H-O-C-K-E-D that I asked to review the cheese plate (for a simple soft cheese protein serving.) It was tres annoying and slightly embarrassing in front of my friends.

Mike ended up having something scallopy with a mix of crazy veggies and lentils (veggies + bean protein = nearly impossible for me to pick apart into a meal I can eat) and my friends had duck and pork.

And you know what, my simple, plain food was fucking FANTASTIC. The fish (without the clam veloute/juice) was so juicy and the cauliflower was so salty and buttery and goddamn fantastic.

The best part: I don't feel like a giant, gorged pig right now.

It's easy to eat this way.

you want me to start this shit? I can start this shit.

I have an interview tomorrow.
It's with a very self-important Fortune 100-servicing company. It was supposed to be Friday but they are so hot to get someone into the position that we have to interview tomorrow.
And can I fit into any of my suits tonight? NO. Motherfucking NO.
Can I find the jacket to the one brown suit that fits? (and I know how you feel about brown) NO. Do I have to go to a birthday dinner in the next 15 minutes? YES.

And who can we blame for this? Peanut butter cups.