the scale: AKA my nemesis

you know what blows the big D? working out like a maniac for entire month. and eating like half-way better than you normally do and also cuttting back on the drinking by like a lot.  and then getting on a scale and seeing that you only lost two measly fucking pounds. IN A MONTH. rude.  so impossibly rude i can't even handle it.
but the only saving grace in that entire debacle was that i remembered to measure myself before i set out on the month-long work out adventure.  and so after i stepped off the scale, and talked myself off of a ledge that included rage-eating an entire loaf of bread and taking a baseball bat to the scale a la office space, i grabbed my tape measure and was like "there better be some motherfucking inches missing or something dies."  and thankfully there were inches missing.  as in three off my waist and two off my hips and thighs.  and so part of me was relieved; that i had something to show after a month of doing things like two-thirds different than i normally do.  but with that being said it's not enough.  so come monday (the eighth) susan and i will be doing two weeks worth of no carb (or at least extremely low carb) in an effort to counteract all the nonsense.  also i think i'm going to force myself to run 150 miles by new years.  and then when i achieve that i'll like eat an entire cake or something.  just kidding.  my reward would include a never-ending build your own taco bar. #amiright
UGH.  it's just so frustrating to work SO much and have little to show for it. at least scale-wise. so what do you ladies do?  what are your favorite work outs?  favorite no carb/low carb meals? help a sister out.
also - can we get a damn huzzah for the mild botox that the blog got? she's looking trim and tight just in time for the holidays thanks to natalie! you can check out her blog here and her blog template shop here.
also this snapchat from shitler about sums up his war on deer.

is tuna a synonym for vagina?

it is, isn't it?
i swear this will make sense.
because i work at a sushi restaurant.
and i just had my vagina checked out last week.  BY A DOCTOR.
relax.

and then an awkward moment occurred.  

as in that awkward moment when you're working at the restaurant and you go up to your new table, make eye contact with the lady that's dining with her family, and then realize it's your gynecologist.

because that 100% happened last night.

i'm not sure if i'm fresh in her mind.  
because i can only imagine that she sees like tons of vaginas every day.
and maybe since i'm not in the proper spread-eagle-feet-in-the-stirrups 
gyno position is why she didn't recognize me.

but that's probably for the best.
because how do you explain that to your husband and children?
"kids.  hunny.  mommy's fingers have been inside the nice waitress.  can you pass the california roll?"

in other news.  my phone reminded me that i'll be riding the crimson wave soon.

that phrase is both hilarious and terrifying.

So Maybe We Could Band Together To Fight Crime. And By Crime I Mean The Fat In My Ass

so remember that one time i worked out all the time?

or that other time where i ate super healthy?

OR that insane time that i stopped drinking?

oh, and remember when i put them all together and did that crazy thing where i tried to basically live a not-so-toxic life?

well i fell off the wagon.  because now my life revolves around stuff like this:

 

   

drippy, ecto cooloer looking motherfucker

so i should probably do something about it.

and i should probably stop polishing off jars of pickles in my friend's homes.

and maybe i should stop laying on the couch so much.
or eating 6 bomb pops in one sitting.
or thinking that i should use that terrible sugary lemonade from the local gas station as vodka mixer.
OR day-dreaming about carbs and starch all day.

i guess what i'm saying is that i need to stop being such a damn pile of garbage.

so here goes nothing.again.

PS. i thought this was funny.  but instead of water - maybe it's vodka (which is the very thing that isn't helping my fat ass).

I Wasn't Going to Do It. But Then I Ended Up Doing It. Begrudgingly, OfCourse.

i'd like a breakdown from shitler of the different ways my 3%'er status can go up.  like does it go up a half percent if i actually do a load of laundry when i say will?  or maybe a whole percent if stop saying that i'll clean my car like i've been saying for the last month?  because maybe i should actually get like a big bump in percentage for following through on major things.

so remember this?

well, i signed up for one.  and i ran almost every single day.  and then my gym closed for a week and i totally used that as an excuse to be an even lazier piece of shit than i normally am and didn't run the entire week leading up to the race and instead just ate everything i looked at and laid on the couch.

so then it was the night before the race and shitler was heading out of town and he wished me good luck and i gave him a look.  and it must be my typical "i'm pretty positive i'm not going to follow through on what i said i'm going to do" look.  
because i was almost positive i was going to bail on it. why?

i didn't feel ready.
i was convinced i was going to come in dead last.i was beyond self-conscious.i had never done one before.
i didn't think i would make it through.i hadn't run on anything besides a treadmill for the last eight weeks.i didn't want to run it with anyone knew i knew because i would rather fail miserably in front of strangers.

and shitler was not happy.
because i was really living up to my 3%'er status.
but i woke up the next morning.
and decided - fuck it.


so i ran it.






and i'll be honest.
the only enjoyment i took from this was when it was fucking over.

but i did it.
so i think i should get 2% for that.  because this was kind of major.
at least for me it was.

and just so we're clear - i feel like i got hit by a mack truck.  shin splints, back ache, sore feet.
but eating an entire pizza the day after certainly helped.
and i might consider doing another one if it means i get an entire pizza to myself afterwards.

Because I'm Determined To Be A 4%'er

i'm going to train for a 5K.
i know that sounds like an odd thing to say.  like why wouldn't you say, "i'm going to run a 5K so i have to train for it."  but i'm not going to over-commit myself and then perhaps not actually run a 5K.  so i'm going to stick with the training part so not actually doing the 5K isn't such a crushing blow.
but here's to hoping that i follow through with this.  because it would be a real fuck-you to shitler.  except i fear that i'll keep this up for like two weeks but then i'll quit and then shitler might read this during the third week and he'll be like "see, 3%."
here are my shoes:

come to think of it - i'm not sure if they're actually good for running.  but i like the bright colors.  so here's hoping my shins survive the fact that i buy things based on color schemes.
and also, my first two training days have consisted of 25 minutes alternating between walking and running and for both of those runs i've listened to nothing but the following on a constant loop:


i'm just a soul survivor.  leave me alone.
if you have 5K training suggestions - by all means, give them to me.
but in the mean time i have two things to say:
1. i've reach the first part in gillian flynn's newest book that makes you go "what.thefuck?"
2. i watched an especially fucking awesome episode of game of thrones last night.  the one where the blonde chick eats a horse heart and she does it all crazy, cannibal style and there's blood running down her chin and chest and you think she's going to upchuck it all but she doesn't therefore proving she's insanely amazing.
i think that's what's missing with a lot of other shows on television right now.  not enough horse heart chow down sessions.