This new diet of having a bowl of bitchy just ain’t working.

March 25, 2014 in Crap I Was Considerate Enough to Not Bother You with Before Now.

February 12?

Really?

That’s the last time I wrote anything here?  Seriously?

Oh, I know why.

Because I’ve been eating vegetables.  And fruits.  And took a yoga class for a month.  And when I wasn’t doing yoga, I was working out at the gym.

30 minutes on the treadmill and no less than 30 minutes on weights.

No less than 4 times a week.

I hurt.  I constantly hurt somewhere.  Most of the time…everywhere.

My thighs hurt.  My batwings hurt.  My ears hurt.

If I sat too long on the toilet, I couldn’t get up without squealing or having to hold the wall to balance.   If I sat too long at my desk, my co-workers thought I was having a seizure from all the cursing and, “OH MY GOD SOMEBODY HELP ME!” they were hearing.  If I sat in the car too long, I had to lift one leg at a time with both hands and physically shift it out of the door.

Then remember to breathe.

No fast food.  None.  Not one stupid French fry.  Not one damn tater tot.

No Coke, Dr. Pepper.  No Ginger ale.  Nothing carbonated.

No coffee, which means no Grande Vanilla Mocha.  No Starbucks.

My guilty pleasure is now a glass of cranberry juice.  Once a day.  I could take it through the vein.

Lots of water.

My only splurge is a meal on the weekend.  A meal of pasta.  Or maybe a steak.

This crap has been going on for 2 months.

2 friggin’ months.

Somewhere in the midst off all that ridiculousness, I turned 45.

Forty.  Five.

I called my momma the last afternoon of being 44.

Crying.

Asking her if this is all there is?  Is this it?  Commuting in traffic 10 hours a week just to do it again the next week?  Sitting in a cube farm under fake lighting for 40 plus hours a week just to constantly be behind on work then see some who do absolutely nothing forge ahead?  Constantly folding clothes just to have more to fold?  Shaving my legs just to have to shave again?  Dragging the aisle of Walgreens and trying to decide if I should go with the box marked “Dark Auburn” or “Medium Auburn”?  Having no more than one hour of every 24 hours to have some kind of conversation with my husband?  Now walking on a treadmill for one solid hour sweating my stupid face off just to STILL NOT be able to fit in my favorite skirt?

I ain’t asking for a trip around the world.  I ain’t asking for a small country to rule.

(Though, let’s face it.  THAT’D BE KINDA COOL.)

But is this IT?

I mean, 40 was fabulous.  I felt young.  I felt hot.  I felt sexy.

She promised me it got better.  She promised me at 50, I’d feel like I did at 40.  And at 60…the real party started.

I’m now 45.

BOR-RING.

I bitch about everything.  EV-VER-REE-THING.

Not every day.  But there’s something every week.

(This morning I was barking because Keith hasn’t taken me on a cruise or on a week long vacation.)

(I know.  Pathetic.)

(Me.  Not him.)

(His reply?  “Uh, baby…we’ve been married just shy of a year.  We’ve got a lifetime to do so much….and you’re questioning me on why we haven’t taken a cruise yet?”)

(I’ve taken only ONE in my lifetime, but yet I feel he should have already taken me on one in a year.)

(I know.)

(I’m the biggest asshat I know.)

It’s now been 2 solid months of eating so freaking healthy, people question my sanity.

It’s now been 2 solids months of sweating my balls off.  Bumped up doing the treadmill for an hour.  Doing weights for 30 minutes.  Doing housework for 96 hours straight.  Sweating so hard and so much, I really want to cry.

Not.  One.  Pound.  Loss.

Not.  One.

(Oh, but there IS a nice little pimple that has popped up.  Such a cute little thing.)

(Bastard.  I’m too damn old for this.)

We won’t discuss the fact that Keith has been right there along side of me on the treadmill cheering me on.  We won’t discuss the fact that he tells me every day I’m beautiful when my face and head is dripping with 98 pounds of animal sweat.  We won’t discuss the fact that he eats crap every day.  We won’t discuss the fact that he’s loss 10 pounds.  4 pounds by simply farting.

(Apparently, I should fart more.)

Yeah, yeah, yeah.  I’m grateful for everything I have.  A devoted husband.  A precious teenager I want to strangle only 2 days a week now.  Parents who love me.  A job that’s rewarding.  Friends who tolerate me.  I know.  I know I’ve got it good.

But I’m 45.

I’m not 30 anymore.  I’m not hip anymore.  I’m not…well, young.

Right now, I suck.  And I know it.  And I’m cool with you knowing it.  Because I do.  I am sucking the life out of me and I’ve about had it with me.

(No, I’m not going through “the change”.)

(I’m going through the big-fat-dumb-ass-baby-unappreciative-spoilt-bitch blues.)

I promise I’ll act better.  I promise I’ll be nicer.  I promise I’ll look at life different.

(Or is it ‘differently’?)

(And don’t be giving me diet advice or suggestions or anything like that.  I know it all.  I know it’s gonna take time.  I know it took me a year to gain it so it’s gonna take just as long to lose it.)

(I know all that.  It’s the price I’m having to pay for falling in love.)

(I fell in love and found more ass.)

(Yes.  It was worth it.)

(I mean, really?  More ass or Keith??  More ass or Keith?)

(Keith.  Definitely Keith.)

(And to keep it fair, you can bitch to me about crap in your life that ain’t quite like you’d like it.)

(Let it out.  Just let it the hell out.)

(I’ll feel better to know I’m not alone.  And we all know it’s all about me.)

But just give me this one last tirade.  It’ll be the last one.

For today anyway.

For the very first time in 2 whole jackass-y, suckass-y months:

SCREW YOU, TREADMILL.

Starbucks

{ 15 comments }

Barbara March 25, 2014 at 9:38 am

Preach it sister! I swear the harder I diet the fatter I get. Just turned 41 this month….now you’ve got me all kinds of scared of 45. Now I understand why my grandmother stayed 37…..for 42 years. ;)

Carrie March 25, 2014 at 10:03 am

10 pounds. That’s all I want is to say, “Adios 10 pounds!”

But if I’m honest, it’s the age thing that’s bothering me more. I was ecstatic at 40. LOVED it. But 45? It’s blah. It’s eh…it’s old.

=)

Diane March 25, 2014 at 12:30 pm

Ok so you turned 45. I turned 61 yesterday and I feel great. It does get better as you get older. Tom and I can take off without the kids now and pretty much do what we want. It’s scary getting older but it’s not so bad. Hang in there. It just takes time.

Carrie March 25, 2014 at 1:19 pm

Halleluia!

That’s just what mom said. And happy birthday to you, sister!

She said that 60 is when it all starts to make sense and you get a real idea of what’s important in life. Not the ladders you’re climbing, not the cars your driving, but the people standing with you.

She’s been right about most crap so far. I’m trusting her on this one.

Stacie Feller March 25, 2014 at 12:37 pm

Whatever….BTW, we are out of milk, I need pipe cleaners for a school project, why don’t you handle this giant project at work and oh….I (meaning my darling husband) has scheduled me two interviews with potential receptionist for his office….AT 8PM TONIGHT….AT MCDONALDS! Come on over for drinks anytime.

Carrie March 25, 2014 at 7:03 pm

Sorry. On the stupid ass treadmill.

Thank God.

L. Hewitt March 25, 2014 at 2:10 pm

Feel better?
I should just get on your ass, but you seem to be doing a real good job of that yourself. So stop. Drink a cup of coffee if you want it. Damn. Cranberry juice is not a reward, it’s just not. I told everybody that would listen that I was 50, now I’m all excited about 60.
(medium auburn)

Carrie March 25, 2014 at 7:05 pm

Actually much better.

I’d really feel better if you lived closer. If YOU and your humor and your wit is what 60 is…BRING IT ON!

L. Hewitt March 25, 2014 at 10:08 pm

Whoa, back that young ass up. I’m 50 looking forward to 60 -can you imagine what I will be like at 60?! Sweet Baby Jesus. I’m still learning! And so are you! And again, cranberry juice is not a reward. It’s just not.

Carrie March 26, 2014 at 8:44 am

Sister, I was gonna say…if YOU’RE close to 60, you’re making it look fun and exciting! And pretty darn hip if I might say.

And I saw a billboard for VODKA CRANBERRY JUICE this morning on the way to work. Life just got sweeter.

I should probably come out from underneath that rock I’m living under, huh?

Sarah March 26, 2014 at 10:10 pm

Oh Carrie-I know. Damn working out and eating healthy-geez but it gets old fast. (Although I do have a little chocolate everyday-just saying.) I remain pissed off that my thighs will never NOT touch at the top (Do you know how humiliating it is to be running a race in compression shorts and be foaming at the crotch because the soap didn’t wash all the way out and it’s raining and the combo of my crazy thigh friction and the rain is stirring up the soap suds? Yeah. It’s like that) BUT-that exercise and health shit and all? That’s why you are going to feel great at 50, and be alive and well at 60 and cruising everywhere you want, and leaving all those other out of shape losers in the dust. You’ll be fabulous, and all because you are strong and healthy!! Keep it up sistah. It’s all going to be great. (PS-I’m 55)

Carrie March 27, 2014 at 7:52 pm

FOAMING AT THE CROTCH?!? OMG, I swear I just momentarily died!!

I love you for that…just made my day!! I’m hanging in there, sister. Put too much time in to quit now!

katie metzroth March 27, 2014 at 3:36 pm

So, if you’re not eating any kind of carbs or sugar, your brain chemistry is actually making you less happy. Try a bowl of cereal. But I’m not giving you advice. What I will tell you is this. laser hair removal.

You’re probably having withdrawal from not enough Katherine the Great. I’ll try to blog more. Yes, it’s all about me….and I totally want to be queen of the world….not a small country. the whole f-ing thing.

Thank goodness we didn’t peak in high school, yea? :)
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Carrie March 27, 2014 at 7:54 pm

That is precisely it. I need more Katherine the Great. And you think I’m joking, huh?

Knit me some eye patches so I can’t see the crap Keith eats while he’s knocking off the lbs. =)

katie metzroth March 27, 2014 at 7:56 pm

How about one eye patch. Then you could say, “RRRRRRR you really gonna make me watch you eat that?!?!”

: )
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