I now know why Kashi Go Lean doesn’t get soggy. It’s made from Styrofoam. Once again I am going to try and get on the weight loss bandwagon. So today I will be a good girl, eat my sticks and rocks cereal, and go to the gym and run at lunchtime. I will eat my lemon juice covered tuna, with my oh so tasty triscuts, drink plenty of water and try not to go home and eat everything in sight.
The thing that I hate about dieting is how limiting it is. I have choices, but they are shitty choices, and none of them taste like a burger from 5 Brothers. I can eat grilled chicken with brown rice, or ramen noodles without the seasoning packet, a teaspoon of soy sauce and steamed veggies. I can eat every type of lean cuisine known to man. I can eat cans and cans of tuna in various forms from plain, to mixed with Taboule Salad, or couscous. I can even splurge on a fat piece of salmon to throw on the Foreman, seasoned with Gray Salt and served on a bed of pilaf or pasta. None of these things excite me. I don’t find any of that stuff remotely fun or enjoyable to the palate. This eating light situation is for the birds. Not to mention every time I cook something remotely healthy, my boyfriend looks at me as if I have just presented him with Rat Poison Stew.
He is the monkey wrench in all my weight loss plans because he resists any attempts to eat anything that wont speed his journey to high blood pressure and diabetes. I can’t seem to get him to exercise either. Saturday mornings I wake up ready to run or walk or do something that doesn’t involve watching whatever Tivo recorded while I slept. The boyfriend however seems averse to anything sun or outdoor related. Some mornings its worth dragging him out of bed, others…not so much. That’s why today I have decided to start running again. I just simply can’t count on him as a workout buddy. When we were in Jamaica this spring we went to the resort gym together. I ran nonstop for 30 min on a broken ass treadmill because some asscrack was using the good one to take a leisurely stroll. Thanks jackass, this is Jamaica, go walk on the damn beach and give me my fucking treadmill. The boyfriend lifted weights. Now, I won’t knock weight lifting, but he did zero cardio. Then he tried to say that playing basketball the other night (i.e. throwing up bricks for 10 min) was enough cardio.
Did I mention he is a former Army Drill Sgt? So on the off chance I do get him to come out to the lake he ruins it. This fool LOVES to bark out orders, babbling about 40 lb ruck sacks and 20 mile marches and all kinds of BS. Sure guy, but you were 25, not 32. Stop staring at me calling out your crappy cadence while I take my run around the lake. I don’t need a fitness instructor, I just need someone to shut up and keep up, especially since you are about 40% red meat, and 60% alcohol. I need him to go take a look at that belly he is rocking these days, and how he can’t seem to get his shirts to cover it. Wish me luck people, I hate running and I LOVE Coldstone.