Caterwauling

What a week. 

I found that dieting and walking more than usual only makes you gain weight. 

I swear I was down three pounds midweek. But last night I binged on mom’s amazing cauliflower fritters. Because I am a dork and would eat cauliflower over chocolate any old day. 

But I think my most remarkable feat of strength this week wasn’t eating next to nothing. (Ex-cauliflower binge.) 

It was not publishing all the draft blog posts I wrote in fits of omgwtfbbq. 

So the week has been a wash at best. But maintaining gainful employment, even as challenging as it has been, nudges this week into the “win” column. 

Even if only by another newly acquired gray hair. 

I wrote that sentiment to a friend going through hell. It’s something I tell myself every day. Even a streaming shitpile of a day like today. 

But instead of focusing on the bad, today I will cheer because I have never walked 10K steps four days in a row before. 

Not a bad start to Lent. Especially given what a wash the day could have been without this victory. 

The dinner situation. Mom’s vs. mine. Not pictured here: a Publix King cake.   

My little 9 SmartPoint meal was fine. Not as omgwtfbbq aromatic as the Little Caesars bacon wrapped crust delight. And I prefer my king cakes to come from Ranny Mandazzo’s in New Orleans. So, I win tonight. 

I better have a lower number on the scale Saturday or else I’ll lose my damn mind. 

Had an awful memory from when I had 12 critical projects going at once back in Maryland. One of the moments that led me to quit. Something to do with Bear Stearns and a ponytail.  It hit me today as I picked up project number more-than-12 that’s awful similar to that camel-breaking straw. 

It should be better this time. But it’s funny. Every time I get down to a certain weight, I change careers. So in 14 pounds, I will be breaking tradition to stay put. 

Today I’m amused at the difference between going nowhere and not going anywhere …

Rearranged my bedroom furniture today. Pretty sick of jerkoff’s massive dresser over my head. I hate the new layout. Next I’ll do the living room since he drops shit over where the couch is. Couch is going under his tv. 

I found a bunch of decor I was saving for this place. Tons of Paris rugs and trinkets and trunks. Do I hang on to it, use it or haul it to the curb?

I got some bad news this morning. It’s best I hide from the world. Which I’ve gotten pretty good at so that won’t be too hard. 

After you finish your work at 11 pm when the Democratic town hall ends on tv, you’d think you could get a few hours of sleep. 

Well when you live under the pipe-bomb-building fool who pees all night, you’d be wrong. 

And then during the daily huddle, you just want to say you have 99 things to do and a nap ain’t one. 

And without that nap, don’t set your expectations too high about the rest. 

My day is as mixed as the market. 

Got to work super early. Redid the project I thought I finished over MLK weekend. It’s better now. 

Computer lost all the boss’ edits on a late day project today. Computer lost all my edits on a 31-page doc last night. That sucked far more. 

All I want is a new computer. Every time I have an urgent project, the thing punks out.  I have urgent projects up to 11x daily. 

Now I have to work on the copy I’ve been avoiding that must go live in the morning.

I’d rather eat the mosquitoes that carry the Zika virus. But they’d probably cost me more SmartPoints than a quarter-cup of pumpkin seeds. 

Other than that it’s a great day. Maybe if I type it, I’ll believe it!

That moment when the new guy rattles off 10 jobs and asks who does them and “I do” is the answer to every one. 

I traded in my little to-do notepad list for a chalkboard.  The extra space makes it look less intimidating than it is. 

Not saying I do it all well, as someone will say it for me if I don’t. It’s like calling yourself fat before the bullies at recess do it first (and you know they will). 

Wait. 

You know what? Fuck  all. 

I do the best I can and that’s better than most. 

And I’m cute too. Damn it.

When I leave work late, I’m always the dork walking amongst the rich and famous (and expensively dressed for the nightlife) with my lunchbox. 

It doesn’t bother me. My mommy makes sure I have food. Can they say the same? Of course, they can afford $32 for a cheeseburger. But still. 

Today I took out the peanut M&Ms and Dove peanut butter meltaways before I even left the house. Go, me. 

That was my only victory today. But I’ll take it. Otherwise, I took about 7,000 fewer steps than yesterday and consumed about 10 more points. 

It’s turning into a stupid-busy week and I’m trying to keep to some promises (not resolutions) I made myself this year:

• I deserve evenings off. 

Not sure whether I’m at peace or if I’m dead inside. But would anyone care either way, really?

Maybe I could have been Amy Shumer if I could just have made a career out of being who I really was instead of the boring fuck I’ve forced myself to become. 

That moment when it’s 5 p.m., you’ve been working since 5 a.m., and you want to murder everyone you’ve ever met but you’re TOO TIRED to kill them all.

I had a victory of sorts today. First, I stepped on the scale and I didn’t want to kill myself. Yay.

Then I ate what I wanted out of my lunch and then walked my lunchbox to my car.

That accomplished two things. I got maybe 2,000 extra steps out of it. Also, I got all the delicious, chocolately treeeeaaaaatttts out of easy reach.

I’ve been on Weight Watchers for the past eight years. Other than losing 65 pounds the first time around, then gaining 30, then losing 25, then gaining 10 … I’ve been watching that weight stay pretty stuck.

Mom is so sickly all the time, so I try not to get annoyed when she cooks stuff with lots of butter.

Or when she packs a brownie BECAUSE SHE BAKED IT WITH HER TIRED CRIPPLED LITTLE HANDS.

Or when she dumps in half a bag of Dove chocolates because I LOVE YOU HONEY …

*scream*

In any event, I bitch. And moan. And say hey lady, no buying any of that shit anymore so you don’t have to tempt me with it. Or hide it in your fucking room so I don’t have to see it.

And I lose every battle.

Not this week.

She baked banana bread on Friday. Which she hasn’t done in over a year when made a loaf for a friend of mine that she loved. But the friend never returned my text saying hey, gift for you. So I gave that loaf to Pinhead and never saw one come out of my kitchen since.

And I haven’t even gone near it.

But when I have crap at my desk, I get to the “I cannot get away from my desk anytime soon SO FAMISHED I AM GOING TO DIE NOM NOM NOM” stage of the day and all bets are off.

Not today.

Don’t get me wrong. I am willing to go out to my car to GET said chocolate and quinoa chips and whatever else in there I tried not to notice.

But I’m so eager to GET THE HELL HOME SOMEDAY MAYBE EVENTUALLY that I will not go to the car.

And by the time I get to the car, the craving will have passed — for chocolate AND the blood of a thousand souls.

We call that a Non-Scale Victory, or NSV.

I will be thrilled if I can officially get through today with a scale victory and a non-scale one. IthinkIcanIthinkIcanIthinkIcan…