In preparation for the upcoming loss of self esteem weight loss competition, I decided to weigh in just to see where I am these days. I finally found my scale, packed at the bottom of winter clothes probably so I didn’t have to see it again for six months, and stepped on the lying son of a biscuit. Oh dear Jeebus it’s bad news. Very bad, epic train wreck, make me go throw up the last two months of meals and possibly cut my thighs off bad news. I text Carrie, tell her the tragic turn of events. She says, “It’s okay, we can do this. We’ll kick ass like we did when we were 24!”. “Okay”, I say, “right after I get off of the suicide prevention hot line and stop crying”.
I need peace, quiet and some alone time to search my soul and possibly kick myself in the ass for letting this happen. Again. So I went grocery shopping. I realize most people would rather poke their eyes out with their own tongue rather than grocery shop, but for whatever reason, I absolutely love it (read about that here)
. I find the world’s best parking spot, right outside the exit and in one of those fat parking spaces nestled between a curb and a cart return thingy. I skip out of my truck and walk to Starbuck’s. It’s not a long walk, but normally I would have hit the drive thru and then go park. Points are stacking up for me already! Yippee! I order my all time favorite low-calorie, no sugar, no dairy because it makes me have bad bathroom , icy cold coffee cup of fabulous!
“What can I get started for you?”
“I would love a venti mocha frapaccino lite with soy and no sweetener.”
“Would you like the syrup added?”
“No thank you, no sugar. Please.”
“It tastes better with an extra pump of chocolate!”
WTF! Which part of lite are you missing. Do I LOOK like I need EXTRA chocolate? My fucking scale needs therapy from this morning’s weigh in and you want to offer me more fat for my ass. Excellent, douche bag, now I will definitely need that suicide prevention line on speed dial.
“No. No thank you. I would not like any sugar, syrup, chocolate or any extra other ass expanding ingredient added.”
Barista laughs, “Oh that is so funny!”
Bitch, I am not laughing. I am about to cross over from Very Happy to Get a Special Iced Coffee Cat into Fuck Suicide, I’d Rather Go to Jail for Punching You in the Head Cat. Now blend my coffee before an epic bitch battle breaks out here in your shiny hipster infested lobby. M’kay? It looks like my irritable, scrunchy eyebrow look has delivered the appropriate message, perhaps I will now get my coffee so I can go shopping and be happy.
“Did you want whipped cream? I always put extra!”
I will not kill her. I will not kill her…”No. Thank. Youuuu.”
Life sentence in prison averted and coffee in hand, I walk back to the grocery store and wrestle my cart out of the tangled mess at the door. I strap in my purse, get out my list and pen and look for all things green, leafy, healthy and on the perimeter of the store. Things are going awesome, I am calming down and starting to have big hopes and dreams about this contest and finally losing 75 pounds while I sip on my delicious iced coffee. And then they appeared. A screaming, fighting, back talking bunch of out of control monkey kids with oblivious parental units ignoring their bad behavior! I guess as long as the brats are bothering anyone but them , it’s okay. Wouldn’t you know it, I don’t have my tazer or Xanax with me so I quickly move on to the next aisle. More of them there. I look at my watch, is it five or something? Why am I seeing so many freaking people all of a sudden? Where did my holistic shopping trip go? Fuck me! It’s the 15th and everyone just got paid and there will soon be a WWF smack down match going on by the meal deals and Little Debbie snack cakes! There will be no peace. No quiet. But that trip to jail is starting to look like a strong possibility.
You still have time to join the Fall Fabulous challenge! New rules, some more prizes and lots of company should you need to cry and murder your scale. Go sign up here!