Tuesday, January 27, 2009
A 100 calorie pack of CRAZY
You know you're busy when your meals consist wholly of food you can grab out of a box; granola bars, Little Debbie Cakes (uh- the heart shaped Valentine cakes make the world go 'round), 100 calorie packs of Goldfish, and assorted cracker-y things..... might I add that there's about 7 goldfish in those bags, SEVEN? What the fuck is in them that makes them 100 calories, pure lard with orange food coloring, rolled in salt?
So this week , after being completely unfulfilled from eating room temperature food with fancy wrapping (that is now ornamenting my car), I started to think- well, if five God. DAMN. goldfish are 100 calories, what's a bite of a peanut butter and jelly sammy??? 80? Just a bite?
NOTE: Anyone who feels the desire to mention I should stick to lean meat like turkey and salmon, or snack on almonds from a baggie can keep your fit ass quiet. I have almonds in a baggie.....and a slice of lunch meat really doesn't tide me over- not to mention, it isn't that portable. I love the GRAB 'N GO! An almond filled existence is the first thing that would trigger a trip straight to a Micky D's drive thru.
This is the deal, now every time I go over my daily caloric intake....do I have to factor in my "tastes?" I SUPPOSE SO! Dinner mints even? Every time I sample "just a small bite" am I getting a stretch mark in some strange place??? What the fuck am I supposed to eat- frozen grapes? Frozen because once, on a crazy diet fad I was attempting, I decided eating frozen food took longer, which then distracted me from how hungry I actually was, AND burnt a few taste buds. So the idea of eating anything else seemed "flavorless". Banana Popsicles it was......I also couldn't really afford anything and Lord knows Top Ramen has it out for wannabe skinnies. No support for financially strained concerned about the width of their love handles, no support-punk asses.
Thus, the over analysis of caloric intakes ensues.
And let me tell you what, those 100 calories packs distort your fucking brain. They just do. I've developed a new obsessive habit, calorie counting. I'M THE CHICK WHO DITCHED 38 DAYS OF MATH.....and I'm voluntarily counting calories, five. hundred. times. a day. The worst part, I'm "roughly estimating." Overestimating, underestimating....who the EFF knows. For all I know the hummus I ate is entirely responsible for my rapidly decreasing self esteem when the thought of "bikini season" floats through the brain. Who knows? Is hummus the enemy? Damn. damn calories.
"Babe, what are you doing....."
Obviously when My Love saw me pulling a Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting, he knew I wasn't discovering a new math theory....he knew I wasn't actually MAKING enough money to add up so rapidly, these surely aren't incoming checks....
"Oh, I'm just- counting. Counting to stay in my calorie bracket...." Using the word "bracket" makes it sound more business, less mental patient.
A few days later....after the awkward exchange and revealed obsessive-compulsive-weight-obsessed-episode (which comes in bouts, I assure you it isn't consistent), in comes My Love with a gigantic tin of cookies from my favorite bakery in New York and my FAVORITE type of cookie. On top of the tin was a calculator.....
and in the window where numbers are usually taunting me......
It just said (in perfect calculator font)- YOU ARE PERFECT
And on that note, I think I'll skip the counting for this evening and have a cookie instead.