I am not sure what the blogger etiquette is, whether I owe my readers some sort of an apology for my prolonged absence or if most people follow so many blogs they didn’t miss me at all. These past few weeks have been filled with some pretty big personal and professional preoccupations that have left me feeling drained and like my to-do list is a treadmill that keeps going while getting nowhere. Except I wasn’t on the actual treadmill at all. I was off that mechanical bitch of a wagon and left so far behind I couldn’t even see its dust anymore. The first big issue was the remodel of our office, including the floors which meant we had to relocate an entire operation into a tiny back room of my house where I worked from, no kidding, a 2 x 1.5 ft end table. I felt like George Costanza with my own personal Vandalay Industries. With a lot less latex. I’d be taking orders three feet from my running washing machine, straining to hear people. Generally I can take time off from the workday to hit the gym or the elliptical in the living room for an hour but my partner was sanding and staining the office cabinets and boiling over with stress so I ended up tied to my little table for about 8 hours. I also had a series of serious issues within my family, none of them fun or with easy resolutions.
My coping mechanisms resulted in a net gain of six pounds, which I am really disappointed about. Anytime you are down on your weight and think it can’t get worse, remember that it can and pretty quickly and easily. Here is your definitive guide to Coping Mechanisms That Suck A Fat One:
- Playing a very addictive video game wherein you get to beat the ever-lovin shit out of zombies while making a post-apocalyptic life for yourself that nearly bests your real-life situation.
- Rediscovering how good Cheetos puffs are. They are a treat to be savored, each puff sucked like a cheesy Jolly Rancher.
- Worrying about things you can’t change. Like plane crash victims or what the Koreas are up to or why a large from Victoria’s Secret can mean anything from doll clothes to a tent even Mrs. Roper would be proud to sport.
- Worrying about things you can change but taking no action. Like how you should really be training for the Wharf to Wharf run, how people who don’t train for runs and get great times need to be beaten to a pulp, how the soda at Asian restaurants is disgusting and flat nine times out of ten with the exception of Panda Express but you keep expecting it to be better.
- Scrolling down your Facebook posts repeatedly waiting for your friends to entertain you and realizing that you kinda hate some of them but are too lazy to do anything about it. Then scrolling from the top all over again.
What finally snapped me out of my daze was a combination of things- the remodel being 90% finished and the realization while in line at Safeway buying a cart full of fruits, vegetables and chicken (in my post-apocalyptic reality the only food was Twinkies despite having built a garden and all my people looked awesome but I guess that’s neither here nor there) that Oprah looks better than me right now. Oprah. This is a harder pill to swallow than the time when I was in the double blind study and the other side got acid and I got the placebo. In all fairness, she looks better than a lot of people. How could the world have changed so much in three short weeks?
The takeaway is that I’m back on the wagon. The protein shake-drinking, exercising, my-god-this-wouldn’t-hurt-so-bad-if-I-hadn’t-taken-three-weeks-off wagon. Who’s with me?