I didn't even want to lose weight.
Well, I mean, I always WANT to lose weight. But for once I wasn't actively trying. I had lost weight by accident and I felt good, you know. Okay about my body. Not worrying about it.
And then my STUPID cousin Matt had to go and make a stupid weight loss competition.
Now if you know me, you know I am VERY competitive. I can't even bowl a game of bowling (that does not sound right) without getting all huffy and scary. Derek nearly dumped me after an ill-fated game of darts that may or may not have ended with me calling him "bitch". Oooh, boy, was he mad.
Anyway, so Matt decided to have a competition in the vein of NBC's show "The Biggest Loser". (Side note: This blog was just interrupted so that I could eat penne vodka and dip half a loaf of bread in the sauce. Oprah, girl, I feel your pain!) I joined in the spirit of competition. But as soon as I start thinking about losing weight, I start gaining it. Today at lunch? Chicken parm! Tomorrow? Shake Shack! The next day? I envision marshmallows. Not sure with what, but just marshmallows. And pizza. And sauce. Ooh and Christmas dinner is in one week. Yahoo spiraled ham! I don't even think I like ham, but hell, I sure am excited to eat it!
I swear, I barely had an appetite prior to this little competition. But NOW, I can hardly go a minute without thinking about my next feast. I'm already looking forward to next year's Thanksgiving. I mean really. I have the hunger of a rabid dog, and the belly (and height, sadly) of an Irish leprechaun.
Thanks a lot Matt, thanks a lot.
Update: I didn't gain or lose any weight in a week. Not bad!