Sure, I may not ever wear one (at least not in public), but I vow to lose 20 pounds and look awesome in one anyway.
Back in the day, looking fab in everything what what I did best. These days . . . well, let's just say I look more like a 30-something with three kids than a svelte early-twenties-ite. My metabolism tanked about a half-decade early.
So post-vacation, I've decided to revive and rev-up the diet beyond "generally healthy eating" to a popular Bikini diet: South Beach. No, I'm not starving myself; yes, I'm still getting carbohydrates; of course I'm exercising too! I've been eating lean meats, leafy greens and other low-carb veg, and low-fat dairy products. No sugar. No cupcakes. Oh, I'd give anything for a cupcake right now. Except that would be cheating.
So really, this post is about an inner war between cupcakes and Bikinis. I sure love cupcakes. But I would also love to not turn into Jabba the Hut. And with all the crap my body is doing, that's a legitimate concern. And I care about not being Jabba the Hut. I mean, I don't mind a little fat layer under my skin, but I'm getting to the point where it's making me kinda ugly. It's not that fat is ugly, but I'm not ready to spend the time and emotional wreckage it would take to figure out how Fat Amy can look pretty.
Sounds like the Bikini is winning, huh? Well, what about being happy and free to think about something other than cupcakes? Because if I didn't have to deprive myself of cupcakes and rice krispies treats and red vines and gummy bears and creamies and bread and crackers for the first two weeks of this diet, I'd probably be able to have entire conversations without the vomit-esque urge to mention cupcakes. If I could just go eat one of the dang things, I could stop writing about it and get back to business.
How long does it take to start liking V8—which currently threatens my gag reflex on a regular basis? When will I be able to enjoy (ugh) celery? And how flipping long will it take for me to stop thinking about cupcakes?
So I seem distracted, stare into space, have trouble following a train of thought, or act disgruntled, you'll know what I'm really thinking about.