Not for me, but for you. Or maybe not you either.. but the first person that pisses me off today. Yes.. my hunger will mean death for them.
What better way to start off a week than on a furious rampage? If you’re wondering why I’m so mad.. I’ll tell you. And if you’re not wondering, fuck you I’m telling you anyway.
Right….. now we’re on the same page. In 5 days and 1 hour and 23 minutes, I will be slipping into my wedding dress for my first fitting. The last time I had that dress on my body was a YEAR ago and I have gotten fat since then.
Before you roll your eyes at me, allow me to explain. I am 4′ 9″ tall. After the baby weight came off from having my daughter (8 years ago), I weighed a whopping 105lbs and wore a size 00 in jeans. Yes, double-zero. Skinny! I was a hot mama, a MILF! Over time it has slightly crept up but I’ve managed to maintain an average weight of 110-115lbs, I certainly wasn’t squishy and jiggly around the middle like I am now.
Now, I weigh a whopping 125lbs and wear a size 4. That is, when I wear clothing that has sizes other than “small, medium, bitch just wrap a sheet around yourself.” I know some of you out there are still rolling your eyes and thinking I’m complaining about nothing but let me tell you something …. when you are as short as I am, a 20lb weight gain is noticeable. I am fucking fat compared to my former self.
The problem here is that when I last had my wedding dress on, there was some material that needed to be taken in at my hips and waist and bust…. on Saturday I have a feeling they’ll be telling me they need to let it OUT at the hips and waist (not the bust of course because I’m as flat as a day-old soda). This is unacceptable and I can’t let it happen.
I don’t want back fat hanging out over the top of my dress and jiggly ass nasty arms and a huge “bump” where there is no baby inside of me. Fuck that. I need to get skinny again… STAT!!! I wanted to schedule the fitting out a few weeks but the seamstress gave me hell and told me to be there on the 13th or else. So I’m on some sort of crash course diet and exercise program that my fiancé half-assedly helped me put together (with all of his health & fitness 2 college degrees knowledge and shit).
The time is now 2:40pm. So far today I’ve done Wii Zumba w/ layers on for extra sweaty grossness, had a peanut butter/banana/graham cracker sandwich, a handful of trail mix, and a salad with a hard boiled egg on it. Now I can have another small “snack” then nothing else till dinner. And I have to fucking run later.
I’m fucking hungry.
My patience shrinks with every incoming phone call and every annoying ass email. What I really want to be doing is burying my face in a giant bowl of buffalo ranch chicken dip and eating an entire bag of Tostitos by myself. Yummm.