My Fun Body

Once while reading Craig's List Becky and I came across an ad for a M seeking F who described himself as having a "fun body"

I too think I have a "fun body". It's lumpy, but I gain great amusement from it. It makes neat noises and glows in the dark. My fun body rules.

A while back I posted my endeavor to do the "Biggest Loser" workout. Apparently I am a loser. It didn't really work. It then occured to me I might actually have to...*gasp*...diet too.

It's not the good old days anymore of where I could just work out and sort of eat better but still eat shit on occasion and lose weight. Oh no. I have to actually do this full bore now. My fun body wants to stay fun.

Being Old and Fat Sucks Ass; not only a true statement, but also the title for my memoir someday.

My Twin has decided to bring her fun body on the same adventure as my fun body. It's tough. We love food. We love to cook it, smell it, eat it, and would probably roll around in it too.

My family is a family of eaters - we love to eat. We love to cook for each other. My grandma is the best food pusher you ever saw. She'll slip you some jello salad in the back hall when you least expect it.

"Come on, just a little piece of pie - don't you like my pie?"

"Yes Grandma I love your pie, but really, the two sandwichs you made me the size of my head filled me up"

"You don't love me do you?"

"What?! Yes, yes I do...oh Granny - are you crying? Ok ok - one small piece...no whip cream."

"But it's lite whip cream!"

"ok ok fine" you'll then notice Granny slice the pie in half, bringing you the bigger half with some vanilla ice cream on the side.

I think she may be the one who started me on my path to my fun body.

While looking over our new strict diet of fish, fish, greens, and more fish - I realized I can no longer think of food as delicious and yummy. It is now just fuel. Something I poke in to keep me going. This became clear to me on day one (Sunday) when I faced my yummy breakfast of turkey meat and mixed berries and nice big glass of water.

I don't like turkey. I only want to eat it hot off of his little carcass. No re-heating! Hot and only freshly hot - then no more turkey. Lunch meat turkey makes me dry heave. I know a lot of times I get melodramatic in my blogs - but no, turkey really makes me dry heave. But I also know it's mental. It dates back to my childhood when I got to eat dry turkey on a dry piece of bread with some warm mayo and butter on it. Ever since cold turkey and I have been in a feud.

My twin sat down with me with her turkey and mixed berries.

I looked at my plate and poked in my cold turkey that smelled like ass.

"Look at me - I'm turkey, eat me!" I believe were my exact words, said just a wee bit sarcastically. A little motivational technique I've picked up. If I demean my food it means I am better than it.

It's a sad sad day when the highlight of your day is a bowl of oatmeal. I now know how Ugandan refugees must feel. But those bastards are skinny, so there must be something to it.

Steaming oatmeal and an apple - the one thing that keeps me going. I would say the berries are my favorite part, but the turkey really degrades the berries.

I'm drinking so much water now that I am just a human Betsy Wetsy doll. Water goes in - five minutes later - water comes out. I don't even know why I bother to flush the toilet.

Day two brings me visions of food.

You know you're on a diet when Subway sounds like the best meal on earth. Those fuckers in my office - with their bread - taunting me with the crumby carby goodness!

If that wasn't bad enough they went and got ice cream for an afternoon snack. Instead I sat in my cube eating my greens and tuna. Chugging water like a mofo. Trying not to fantasize about the orgasmic pleasure one giant spoonful of creamy peanut butter would bring me. You know it's bad when the thought of Skippy makes your nipples hard.

Tonight TV was trying to seduce me. Pizza ads, burgers, and onion rings on a reality show...I started to watch Hells Kitchen but was afraid I would cry when they threw out the "bad" risotto.

I poked in my talapia and greens. I even ate the skin off my baked potato - a thing that used to seem beneath me.

My fun body hates me right now. It's a mental game. If my stomach could sing I think it might break into some Static-X.

I'm also supposed to set my goals and rewards. This weeks goal is to not kill anyone and eat their flesh. My reward will be not having to dig a hole to hide the bones.