One of my New Year’s Resolutions (I generally make about 20-30 a year and immediately break them in quick succession) was to stop eating sugary sweets, snacking at work, and to basically starve myself until I’d lost about 10 lbs and no longer felt ashamed to shower with the lights on.
To my credit, for the first few weeks of this year, I actually did all of those things, only to discover by the third week I’d GAINED five pounds. So I immediately reverted back to a diet consisting almost entirely of Diet Coke and chocolate chip cookies.
Concerned about my thickening waistline, I recommitted myself to adopting a healthier diet for at least the month of February. February being the shortest month, I figured if I could go any month without added sugar, it would be this one. I admonished all of my enablers at work, and rallied behind the mantra, “New month, new me.”
Prior to deleting it…again…a man on the gay dating app, Scruff, had unironically called me “Papa Bear.” This only solidified my resolve to try to get back down to my birth weight before the coming swimsuit season.
Then February 1st rolled around and I immediately scarfed down not one, but three jelly donuts. Now I’m torn between wanting to try to be healthy, or better yet, skinny again, or surrendering to destiny and auditioning for My 600lb Life. I guess there’s always next month.