Christmas is Comin'

Its cold. Well, Its kinda cold. I love it. I am happy to say goodbye to summer. The summer makes my hair look like Little Richard.

Anyways, the cold weather reminded me of Christmas, which reminded me of something I need to talk about immediately. Christmas Cards. I dont know how to tie this into health, so I will just say that you are reeeeeallllly effing with my mental stability when you send me a Christmas card, SO PLEASE SAVE YOUR MONEY AND LEAVE ME ALONE.

First of all. Unless you are legally married or have been together for so long that people truly do not know if you are married or not, DO NOT, send out a Christmas card from “us.” Because GUESS WHAT? Its not from “us.” Its from the girl trying to show all her friends that she has a boyfriend and move the relationship faster then it needs to go. If you get one of those, consider it a threat from a lunatic and immediately panic. This is a clear warning that when this relationship goes south (which it will), you will either be friends with a dead person or a murderer. Cut these assholes out of your life NOW.

If you are actually married, and feel the compelling need to waste your time and money sending me a Christmas card with no money in it that I am going to just rip in half with my mouth and punch a wall, FINE send it. BUT DO NOT INCLUDE A PICTURE OF YOURSELF. You are a grown adult. So is your husband or wife. You are not cute. I have Facebook, I can see in 775 different pictures that you are just as ugly as always. For the love of God, NEVER SEND ME A PICTURE OF YOURSELF. Its weird and I am going to hate it.

That being said, I dont mind pictures of kids. If they are cute its nice and if they are fug it gives me a good laugh. Likewise, animals are fun. A nice picture of your kids in front of a Christmas tree doesn't piss me of that much, but if you send me a picture of your baby painted like a candy cane coming out of the ass of your antler wearing dog, I am going to cut you out. Or just cut you.

I want to end by asking, WHY WOULD ANYONE SEND ME A CARD ANYWAYS? I am one of those people that offers nothing. There is nothing that you, as an individual, need from me to get ahead in your own life. Send a card to your boss. Send a card to your in-laws who hate you. Don't send a card to me. You don't need a loser like me judging you.

Swedish Fish and Despair

Look, I know I haven't blogged in months, so everyone can stop reminding me. I am pretty sure that you have never written one blog post in your life so shut the hell up about me not posting for two months. I was conjuring up a list of ideas for a post that will blow your little minds. I lost that list, so you get to read this bullshiz....Enjoy!

So far in this blog I have blabbed on and on about the benefits of Paleo and Crossfit as if I just had this perfect,indestructible life of exercise and animal flesh where nothing could ever go wrong. And thats how it was for awhile. But, sometimes the smallest inexplicable shift in your brain can change your mindset toward things, and thats what happened to me recently. Without completely giving up, I gave up. Here is my story. Get the tissues. All donations to my credit card bill.

I went off the deep end. I just got into this weird 3 month funk where I became less of a Paleo/CrossFit machine and more of just a normal human (gross.) I extended my beloved “cheat day” to two, and then three, and sometimes even FOUR days a week. I lost my competitive drive in the gym which is baffling because I still couldn't play Wheel of Fortune without screaming and standing up (even when I was by myself.) I was burnt the f*ck out, and I just didn't know how to handle it.

The major problem was that I thought I could do whatever I wanted because I wasn't a fat mess. Lalala, I'm a size 4, I can eat 1000 Blizzards..BOOM...I'm Christina Aguilera but slightly less trannylicious ( I HOPE.) All my shorts from last summer look like they would fit an infant. I would go to the gym to try to work off this extra “bloat” as I called it when I was in denial, but working out is hard with a belly full of sugary little red fish and my times on workouts were just getting worse and worse. Instead of leaving the gym feeling great, I would sit in my car for ten minutes after a WOD wondering if I had let myself go beyond repair. I felt stupid for caring so much, and it just became a vicious cycle of overeating and underperforming. I was on the path to becoming a mega fatty and I needed a good punch in the junk ASAP. Unfortunately, that never came, and I was forced to realize the truth. I am the conductor of my own life, and the fatass train is stopping here.

I wish I could say that some major event triggered me to get back on track, but my life is too boring for that. Luckily, the mundane act of waking up every day feeling like the fattest, ugliest loser on the planet for 90 straight days was enough to do the trick. PLEASE DO NOT WRITE ME HEARTFELT MESSAGES TELLING ME NOT TO KILL MYSELF. Fat, skinny, tan, pale, bloated....I will always be obsessed with myself so chill the f*ck out. I think everyone, (and I will say women especially, although that may offend any extra sensitive men out there,) at some point goes through a phase where they just negative self talk themselves into the ground. Life wouldn't be life without ups and downs, but it it would certainly be a sad life if you didn't take advantage of the downs and use them to fuel your next up! This sounds like a informational pamphlet on how to be a drug addict.

Alright. I'm done. I just wanted to write this post to explain why I haven't blogged in awhile, and also to put the message out there that EVERYONE feels bad sometimes. If you are currently sucking at everything, its OK! Take some time and sit for awhile in your own misery, but when you are good and ready, slap yourself across your fat face and declare that you are ready to kick some ass. Everyone feels like a burning bag of dicks at some point, but you gotta take the advice of my man Jerry and just keep truckin on. He was a fat f*ck and even he managed to pull it off for awhile. I have only been back on track for 4 days and I already think I have graduated from a drunk and puffy Christina Aguilera to more of an extremely motivated, pregnant, ostrich. HOORAY!

CrossFit Northeast Regionals 2011

Congratulations to Dawn Marie, owner, coach and friend to everyone at CrossFit508 for finishing as the 21st fittest woman in the Northeast at the Regionals last weekend!

All of my BFF's showed up to eat, drink (shhh), and cheer on the competitors in the strongest sun ever. Seriously, my face is peeling off.

DM told us that her judge asked if all that cheering was only for her when she was out there doin her thang. It was. We are really loud. And cute as hell.


PS: You didn't think I wouldn't mention good ole "No Rep" did you? Shout out to Dawn for judging all day and getting some sick new Reebok sneakers for her efforts. She has to know she will never, ever, live down that reputation.


YEAH BUDDY!

Don't Worry....Be Freakin Happy!!!!!

I am wondering why self help books are so popular. Its almost as if people don't even know what they like. This makes me think that I am doing OK in life, because if you came up to me and said “ Haley, what do you like?” I could tell you in ten seconds. Even though I technically asked this question to myself, I will tell you anyways. I like the following things; food, blankets, hilarious people, writing, pretending my cats can talk, gum, headbands, sexy ass men, CVS nose drops, sleeping, and my own strange sense of fashion. While we are on the topic, here is a severely shortened list of things I hate; dolphins, Anne Hathaway, Bacardi, Tyler Perry's House of Pain, technology, people from India, huge ugly earrings that match your shirt, calamari, coffee flavored things, outspoken liberals, standing in a weird crowded bar pretending its so fun, and people who fake laugh at the end of every sentence. There are way more, but it could get offensive, racist (more so than it already is), and maybe even illegal, so I will end the hate list there.

The point of this is, I KNOW what makes me happy. There is never a day when I wake up from my 15 hour slumber and wonder “ Hmmm...today I think I will put on my best matching shirt/earring combo and go out for a nice calamari lunch to discuss welfare policies with Sheryl Crowe.” No thank you. If I want to be happy I get some gum, slap on a headband, and go to the mall to buy more gum and headbands. I don't need Dr. Phil to tell me that I would enjoy a nice shopping spree more than hanging myself in an elementary school playground. You people are so lost these days. Just do what you like and shut up about it. Great, now I am all worked up.

So this blog is my declaration that I will never buy a self-help book in my life. Nobody can tell me exactly what makes me happy except ME. At the beginning of 2011, I posted about changing my life to cut out all the bullshit. Well guess what? I did it, and this year has been awesome. I took a look at what I liked to do, and I did it. Now I am skinnier, stronger, happier, my boobs are way huger, and I feel good about who I am as a person. Not one of those things is a lie.

The greatest part about this is, technically this is a self-help blog and you just read it. So now I think you are a big freak. But seriously, anyone who knows me I think would agree that even though most people bother the living crap out of me, I am pretty happy with myself. Not in a self centered kind of way, more in the sense that I am not going to sit around and bitch about hating life but do nothing to change it. In a world where few days go smoothly, happiness is a choice. Its your decision whether you want to smile through it, or declare yourself depressed and buy some dumb book because you have a dead car battery and explosive diarrhea. I say bring on the f*cking diarrhea. If its true that you only get one life, spend it doing what you enjoy, not waiting for some asshole with a book deal to tell you what you like. And that's all I have to say about that.

Hypothetical Fun

Sometimes I think God hates me. I don't hate the rain. When it was raining for one thousand days, I didn't care that much. Toward the end I realized it was making me hungrier and that was upsetting because I don't need to get fatter, but overall, the eternal monsoon did not bother me so much.

But now that the sun is out, I realized how much of an impact the weather has on my mood. I am smiling and talking and sweating...its wonderful. But then, just when I thought things were going so swell, God remembered that I am not allowed to enjoy anything and gave me the worst case of PMS in the history of hormones. I apologize to the male readers out there, but I just need to get this out. I can't stand the sound of anyone's voice. I didn't bring a lunch today and the cafeteria is serving FLOUNDER. Nick's face makes me want to blow up the house. I am on the brink of mass murder. Happy Memorial Day weekend!

This post really has nothing to do with the weather or my womanhood at all, that was just an expression of raw emotion and passion. The real post is about something I noticed the other day that needs to be discussed in this blog because it pissed me the f off.

So lets create a hypothetical situation here...Anyone who knows me knows I love hypothetical situations so I am really pumped about this. OK, so in this scenario you really want to make some money so you can be ballin and put some sick rims on your ride. After countless hours of brainstorming, you come up with the idea that you are going to walk around with a 30 pack of Keystones and offer one to any homeless person who is willing to pee in a bucket. Then, when you have a big enough supply of rancid piss, you are going to sell the idea to grocery stores as an energy drink. We will call it...Golden Shower.

After a few weeks of urination station, you actually manage to convince some stores to carry Golden Shower. However, sales are not what your expected and your car still only has 3 hubcaps. But then, miraculously, you receive a call from the FDA. They want you to know that homeless people are now much happier in major cities all over the country because not only are they getting free beer, but this whole piss business is making them feel like they have a purpose. The FDA wants to cut you a deal. They get a portion of the piss profits, and in exchange, they are going to fund 75% of your Keystone purchases and consult with YOU over the design of the 2011 Food Pyramid. Hepatitis Martini anyone???

The point of this story is, you would have people sucking homeless piss for breakfast, lunch and dinner if this really happened to you. And even though this particular scenario may never happen (yes it will,) in a way this is EXACTLY what is going on in America today. I saw a sign in my work cafeteria called “2010 Food Guidelines” and it went on and on and on about the importance of whole grains. Further inspection of this sign revealed that it was a product of General Mills.BULLLLLSHITTTTT. Whole grains are the Golden Shower of General Mills. They would have to be mothereffing idiots to not include as many grains on that sign as possible. Grains are not healthy, they are a business. A humungous business that the government makes big bucks off of. Thankfully, I am here to tell you this so you can become super smart and awesome but still not as pretty as me. I'm not a miracle worker.

Grains suck. That's the bottom line. So next time you go to eat your stupid “heart healthy” Kashi crap, think about Golden Shower and yell “hell no!” and punt the box out the window for the homeless people. I am pretty sure they will appreciate the excitement because they aren't going to have much to do until I can save up enough quarters to buy some Keystones.

Life Lessons From a True Genius

I made up a phrase and people hate it. NEVER have I had the experience where I used this phrase on someone and they were like “ I get it, that makes sense. You are so beautiful and smart I want to take you through the Dairy Queen drive-thru so many times.” Nope. Everyone hates it. I made up this phrase as a way to respond to people when they ask me why I so often prioritize exercise over fun things like binge drinking and unprotected sex with strangers. I say “ You have to give and take. And you have to pick and choose when you take.” I get the feeling that when I say this, people start to feel awkward because they don't ever really say anything back. This will have no impact on my use of this phrase.

Admittedly, this little saying could use some work. I mean, people aren't going to put that in their Facebook profiles with tons of :) ***** <3 <3 **** around it. But I have never been one to try and please the people, and I think that this phrase relays the point I am trying to make quite well. YOU CAN'T JUST DO WHATEVER YOU WANT ALL THE TIME. Maybe for one year you can, but eventually it will catch up with you and you will just be sitting there all alone staring at your fat body and empty bank account and probably wondering “ why did this happen to me????” I can tell you why. BECAUSE YOU'RE AN IDIOT.

We all know that eating is fun. We all know that drinking is fun. Put the two together and I am showing up even if I wasn't invited. I had a brief stint where every single day my life was a party. I lived at home and had a shitbox car, so all my money was extra and I was ready to spend it on Twisted Teas and Applebee's (rhyming.) You know what happened to me? I got fat, I got acne, I saved no money, and LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING...beauty aint on the inside until you are 50, divorced, and on Match.com just praying not to die alone. When you are 22, fat and drunk, you could be the funniest, smartest, coolest (I am all of these things) girl in da hood, and the homeboys don't give a shit.

MORAL OF THE STORY. You can't take all the time. Its like a friendship...if you never offer to be the designated driver, you're a shitty friend. Likewise, if you just drink booze and eat nachos and never take care of your body, you're a shitty human. OK, maybe that's a little extreme, but you certainly aren't doing yourself any favors. Especially in the long run. If you are binge drinking and overeating throughout your twenties, even if there isn't any visible damage now, who knows what problems will result from your lifestyle later down the road! Odds are, if you are spending all your time boozing out at the clubs you are pretty self absorbed, so what exactly are you going to do when you start to get the alchy-face and are too fugly to shake your ass in VIP anymore? Oh, the horror.

I'm not perfect. There are plenty of Saturdays where I am looking at an empty bottle of wine by 10pm and I am talking about the big bottle. BUT, if you rewound 24 hours back in Haley's Life Tape, you would see me refusing millions upon millions of offers to go out and drink so that I can go and get my swell on at the gym. Friday night and Saturday morning, you will find me at CrossFit508.And yes you read that correctly, I really do drag my gigantic, lanky ass out of bed on Saturdays at 6:15am to exercise. And that is called giving, my little blog followers. This way later on, if I do decide to take from the plethora of pleasures that this world has to offer me ( usually in the form of wine, pizza and gummis,) I can feel a little less like a fat, lazy, slob.

Give and take. You gotta give and then you can take. You should always give more than you take. Any way you word it, this phrase sucks.

Festivus Recap: Long and Delightful

So, this past weekend I competed in “A Festivus for the Rest of Us” at CrossFit Relentless in ghettolicious Hartford, CT. Since I know that a lot of people who read this blog are still confused about what CrossFit really is, I thought “ What better way to describe what CrossFit is all about than to recap this whole event and embarrass all my CrossFit friends?” So here it is. “Festivus for the Rest of Us: According to Haley.”

I have to give Dawn Marie (owner of CrossFit508) credit for her approach in asking us to take part in this event. She told us about it months in advance, which was a genius way to get us all to sign up. Everybody is brave when something is months away. But,as the day of the competition drew closer and closer, the Facebook posts started flying about how fricken nervous we all were. Everyone started really honing in on training hard in that final week before the competition, and I THOUGHT everyone was going to have their eating in check. Boy did I overestimate everyone (including myself.) Maureen ate 5 Guys, Nicole had an ice cream, and I had 13 munchkins the day before. We may not be perfect, but we are fun.

Anyways, on a regular day at CrossFit508, I get yelled at for talking and not doing what I am supposed to at least 500 times. If you think that is bad, I am surprised that Pam is even allowed to come back. We just have a lot to say! But in that half hour before the competition started, it was like you were at a school for the deaf. We were all making crazy faces and pretending to focus on stretching, but really we were all petrified for what was ahead of us...a 2k row for time.

If you have never done a 2000 meter row for time before, I would not suggest doing this ever. As part of our Paleo Challenge back in March we all were required to row 2k, so we were FULLY aware of how bad our lives were about to suck. Maureen went first and set a 51 second PR which was awesome to see. I think she just wanted it over with because she had to stare at William on his crutches screaming at her the whole time. Nicole was next up with a major PR as well. I made the mistake of yelling in her ear that she was halfway done, which is something nobody wants to hear in a 2k row. You want to be ALL done. Then, after watching everyone sweat, pant, and grunt, it was time for Janet, Pam and myself to get on the rowers. We all lined up, cute as buttons, right next to each other and, just like Maureen and Nicole before us, we all hit new personal records. The pictures from this scene are terrifying. I have jelly rolls, we all have red faces, and its just a hot mess. But hey guess what? We rowed 2k as hard as we could and you didn't, so whatever a-hole.

After the row, I think everyone calmed down a little, and we all walked around on our numb legs for a few minutes before the next event. In the next workout,we had seven minutes to achieve a maximum weight deadlift, and I was planning on throwing up a Hail Mary for 250. I secretly thought that if I could pull that off, it would be the best female deadlift of the day. NOPE. Some chick pulled 300. And a bunch of other girls were working with what looked like WAY more than 250. These heats were small as weight plates were limited, so there were several instances where we didn't know anyone in the heat, but cheered them on like freaks anyways. We are just that nice. And I think we all have ADD and will take any opportunity to scream at someone.

Anyways, just like the first event, EVERYONE hit personal records on their deadlifts. I was so happy to get that 250 that I high-fived my judge about thirty times and now he hates me. I actually got 255 up, but I am an idiot and dropped it which is not allowed so it didn't count. Nobody from 508 was surprised that I did that. Bitches don't give me no respect.

At this point in the day, we were all feeling pretty good about our personal records, and I don't think anybody had their panties in a knot over this last event. It was just straight up CrossFit: 4 rounds for time of a 400 meter run, 20 kettle bell swings, and ten box jumps. No reason for panic there, we all had done those things a million times. We were so ready.

YEAH RIGHT. I watched Maureen go first and I could tell by her face that she was wishing for death. She kicked ass and got through the workout like a champion with her little ponytail flowing in the breeze, but I could see it in her eyes that this was going to be worse than I was anticipating. By chance, Nicole, Pam, Janet and I all ended up in the same heat which gave me a little bit of comfort. This was familiar to me. I work out with these idiots every day. We have the even bigger idiots on the sidelines cheering us on. What could go wrong?

Oh, A LOT. First of all, on that first run I knew things were going to suck when my legs felt cemented to the ground. Poor Sage standing down at the 400 meter mark must have gotten so many terrifying looks from the runners as he yelled out things like “ You can catch her!” and “Last round!” I am sure when it was over everyone appreciated the cute little kid yelling inspirational quotes at the top of his lungs, but at the time all I could do was look at him and gasp “Oh my god!” He's a Crossfitter, he understands.

Every single 508 athlete finished those 4 rounds without walking once. Not a sign of giving up on anyone's face. We all trotted along and never stopped, no matter how badly we just wanted to lay on the ground and be done with it. A lot of this is owed to our 508 cheering section, who screamed at me all 8 times I ran past them during that event. Put a little spring in my slow, pathetic step. I mean I really am surprised that my legs still worked at this point. Maureen, Pam, Nicole and Janet...you know what I am talking about! AND,my shoe came untied in a Brian Ray moment of shoe malfunction. God that last workout was a bitch.

OK, if you are still reading at this point you need to get a life right now. This is the longest post ever. I am really not trying to beat this day to death, and talk about how great it was over and over until everyone wants to murder me, but it really was a very special day. I think that we all went into this competition with some level of self doubt, but we all ended the day knowing that we are capable of more than we think. Again, thank you to everyone who came out to support us, and to all the coaches who put up with us when the gym seems more like a kindergarten classroom than a gym for adults. If you told me five years ago that I would be competing in a fitness competition I would have laughed and then yelled at you for interrupting my phone call to Dominoes. I owe so much to CrossFit and all the people that have come into my life because of this sport. And I think I am just going to end this here with one gigantic YEAH BUDDY!



Quick and painless.




First one to hit the final WOD. Look at that form!



Hey asshole, don't drop that.



Elegant.




I really like these boots.

Easter Fun

Happy Easter!!! Easter is the worst. For some reason I used to get excited about it when I was a little freak child. We would leave out carrots and I would ask tons of questions about the Easter Bunny's mode of transportation. But now I don't really care about Easter, because last year I got Nick a giant basket filled with candy AND Paleo food, AND I woke up at 5am to display it perfectly on the kitchen table, and WHAT DID I GET IN RETURN? Nothing. A giant teeth smile. I hate that kid.

I shouldn't have even mentioned Easter because now I feel like I am keeping secrets if I don't tell everyone that my family is going to the 99 to celebrate the resurrection. This is not a joke. I mean, I am not complaining because my Dad will pay for it and they have 22oz Wachussett Blueberries on draft, but wtf is wrong with my family? I am going to show up wearing the Easter outfit I had on in a picture I recently found of myself ; a blue, long-sleeved dress, white tights, white shoes with buckles, a white straw hat suctioned to my giant head, and holding a balloon that says Happy Easter. The picture was taken last year.

Since it is the Friday before a holiday, this is pretty much the obligatory “don't go too crazy you huge, gigantic, disgusting, fatass” post. I am going to eat some Reese eggs and over a thousand Sour Patch Kids, but I am really going to try to keep my meals as Paleo and gluten free as possible. When I eat gluten I get pimples and that's not sexy. If I am ever going to find a boyfriend who will buy me an Easter basket I can't be rolling around town with a zit face. Gross.

If you don't celebrate Easter, you should just use this day as an excuse to eat candy and drink. I do that all the time when I see that other people are having fun at events I wasn't invited to. If I go on Facebook and see one person's status saying they are at a party, I am instantaneously out the door to buy a 30 pack and some onion dip for a one man bender. Fun is my middle name. Just kidding its Marie, Just kidding its Sex Warrior.

Happy Easter!

Flop Flop Flop

Over the course of my life, I have noticed a lot of things, some relevant, some ridiculous. For instance, some people put their blinker on to get on the highway. This is ridiculous. WHY would anybody do that in a million years? The oncoming cars are never wondering whether you are going to merge or just go barreling off into the wilderness for fun. Something tells me Brian Ray is the world's worst offender of the unnecessary merging blinker. Let's just all make a pact now that unless we are putting on our right blinker and committing suicide, NO BLINKERS TO MERGE! OK THANKS!

Anyways, while my blinker rage may be a good example of a meaningless observation, I do happen to notice some other things that are a little more important. For example, I have noticed that there are two types of “exercisers” in the world, and that every single person falls into one of the types. I know that when HGW was just a wiiiiittle bitty baby, I put up a post about the types of people that you see in a regular gym. This is different, yo. This post is less about people's workout antics, and more about their motives. Its way more deep and soulful because I am getting older and using spirituality to cope with the realization of my own mortality. And I also needed something to write about.

So lets start with Type 1. I will refer to this group as the “Floppers.” If you are a Flopper, you come into the gym, usually 3 to 4 times a week and flop around. You get on the elliptical and flop your way through an episode of Two and a Half Men. Then you might flop your arms around with some 5lb dumbbells and call it a day. For guys, you usually flop around on the treadmill at the slowest pace ever, and then go and do 3 bench presses with twenty minute breaks in between. How do you spend the breaks? By draping your bodies over the machines, staring at girls in full makeup, and drinking weird protein shakes...AKA flopping around. Floppers exercise because they think its the thing to do. Their workouts never change and improvements are rare. I know this because I used to be the greatest Flopper of them all. Except I did my elliptical time during Jeopardy and skipped the free weights in favor of the free tanning. Tannest, fattest, factoid machine. But hey, I was going to the gym wasn't I?

I don't have a name for the second group of exercisers. I thought I was creative, but apparently my self esteem is too high. I tried to think of the most determined and courageous person in the world, but all I come up with was Dumbledore and that's gay. But don't fret my pets, because what this group lacks in name, it makes up for in street cred. These are the people who exercise for IMPROVEMENT. The people who make physical fitness a measure of success. People like ME. I measure my success in 3 ways; good relationships, good career, good fitness. If one area is lacking, I go shithouse, pound a bottle of wine, cry, and fake being sick so people pay attention to me. Sorry fellas....I'm taken.

MY POINT IS...don't be a flopper. If you are going to take the time to exercise, its pointless to hate it the whole time. Flailing around on the elliptical to maintain your flabby body is stupid as hell. Make exercise a priority. Make it an area of your life where you set and achieve goals. I guarantee you will not only start to like working out, but you will also start to look better which is a good thing because I know who reads this blog and most of you are not going to be winning any hot body contests anytime soon. BOOM.

Death and Finding Inspiration: A Blogger's Strife

I think I am dead. I have been sick for a week and it isn't getting better. It's from the community M&M's at work. I have the world's worst case of germophobia, but I can't keep my fat hands out of that effing M&M dish. Those little f*ckers are PEANUT BUTTER. Everyone who knows me is well aware that I am more of a gummi girl, so I had never had peanut butter M&M's until like 2 weeks ago and I am pissed about it. They are wonderful. Once I ate one, it just turned into a non-stop M&M party which led to me contracting the Ebola virus and losing the ability to tell if I am alive or not. Moral of the story: stick with the gummis.

So feeling like absolute dick has really put a damper on this blog in the sense that I haven't posted in over a week. I was also having trouble finding inspiration, and if you are a brilliant mind like me, you know that genius needs to be inspired. But, alas, inspiration came to me, as it most often does, in the form of an annoyance. Listening to people talk about diets and health. Makes me insane.

I know that I can't expect everyone to be Paleo, but it really is hard for me to keep my mouth shut sometimes. I talk a lot and I like to know things, so when I hear people talking about reduced fat Wheat Thins and shit, it takes everything in me to keep quiet. Its 2011...why are you eating Wheat Thins?

I get it, knowing what to eat is confusing. Do you eat low carb? Do you do Weight Watchers? Do you count calories? There are a lot of questions out there for a person looking to get (and stay) healthy. But I have to think that in 2011, you have to know that processed crackers are bad news. Don't get me wrong, you can go from a diet of all fast food, to a diet of lean turkey sandwiches and low-fat CheezIts and you will probably lose some POUNDS. But I am telling you right now, if you lose your weight on a high carb, low calorie diet, you will have chicken legs and arms with the world's jiggliest belly. Super fun time!

I love it when I think someone is thin, and then I see pictures of them on Facebook in a bikini and I am like “ Holy mother of Christ nice rolls, Jigglepuff.” Its called skinny-fat and in my opinion it is worse than fat-fat. When I was a fatty there were no false pretenses. I had a nice tan, nice hair, giant boobs, but I was a little fat and everyone knew it. Honesty, people. Its all about the honesty. Show the world your giant bod. On the flipside, there are chicks out there who look like pipe cleaners, but you get their clothes off and its like they are made of white Nickelodeon Gack. Talk about awkward. Whats the point of being skinny then? Who are you the friggin devil? If I was a dude and I thought I was scoring a chick with a hot bod only to find out her skin looked like it was full of cottage cheese while simultaneously melting off her body I would flip the f*ck out. That's false advertising in the worst kind of way. WORSE than a giant push up bra if you ask me. I can work with little boobs, but surprise belly rolls are just grounds for ending whatever was going on in the first place. (Note: This is coming from the perspective of me pretending to be a young single male. Since I do not fit that profile, I cannot speak for everyone, or anyone actually, in this age demographic. Some people are chubby chasers and if you are one, please contact me because I have so, so so, many questions.)

This is where my mind goes when people start talking about foods they think are healthy. Even Dr. Oz, who I think is literally an alien, agrees that ALL NATURAL foods are the way to go. Even if people were confused about whether or not beans are healthy (they aren't) and eating too much fruit, it would not upset me because those foods are at least natural! If you are standing there announcing to anyone who will listen that you are going to be so skinny because you eat mini bags of cinnamon rice cakes, you are just stupid. You are going to have a weird, bloated, disproportionate body, and I am going to laugh so hard at all your bikini pictures when you post them on Facebook. So hard.


The point of this post was not to be malicious. I have been a fatty before, and I got nothin but love for all you large orders out there just trying to make it in the world. As long as you are happy, I am happy. But, if you are currently at an unhealthy weight, and considering some strange, low calorie, crash diet to get thin, you should really consider prioritizing your HEALTH over your WEIGHT. I guarantee you, that if you focus on feeding your body an all natural, nutritious, and as gluten free as possible diet, the weight loss will happen. Or, you could go the other way, and stuff your face full of 100 calorie packs of Chips Ahoy and that weird Pirate's Booty shit, and turn into the flabbiest freak on the planet. Whatever way you decide to go, please still plan on posting the semi-nudes on Facebook. K, thanks bye.