Shame, shame I know your name!

Dear God, last week was a disaster. It started out OK, really, it did. Tuesday, I completed W4D1 of C25K and was feeling good. Aside from the fact that I began to hallucinate toward the end of the run and found myself saying Hail Marys to get me through. At one point during my final run when the simple prayer wasn’t working, I broke out into a panting rendition of Hail Mary, Gentle Woman in the hope that somehow the time would miraculously countdown to nothing before I died.  

I was really near death at this point
I headed into work on Thursday morning not expecting much to happen. The week had been good so far and I was feeling motivated and happy. I began my work day as usual and started drinking my 67 glasses of water, which has become routine. Because of the inordinate amount of water that I have been consuming, multiple trips to the bathroom have also become routine. After washing my hands during one such trip, I moved to the left to grab a paper towel and that is when I was swiftly smacked in the face with the plastic cover on the paper towel holder. It hit me directly between the eyes pushing my new sexy specs up into my forehead. The force was so strong that I began to have that feeling on my nose that sort of feels like a tarantula crawling on your face. Thankfully, this bathroom is a one stall wonder and I wasn’t putting on a live performance. I gathered my composure and made my way back to my desk.
I am certain that I must have experienced some type of head injury because there is simply no way that the events that were about to take place would have happened otherwise. Up until this moment, I had every intention of continuing the rest of the week as planned. I had three amazing weeks under my belt. But suddenly and without warning, temptation reared its ugly head and instead of turning in the other direction, I dove head first into the proverbial Old Country Buffet.
It started out innocent enough. I made a mistake on a project at work, no one’s fault but my own for not reading the directions AT ALL! Instead of sloughing it off like a normal person and moving on, I decided that I most definitely needed a piece of chocolate. One of my offices is most conveniently located directly next door to a discount retailer that sells just about everything. Instead of grabbing a single, lower fat but largely delicious 3 Musketeers bar, I decided to go for the 94 piece variety pack. Yes, 94 pieces.  I know what you are thinking, “Colleen you certainly didn’t eat the whole bag, right?? No, of course not, after grabbing about 15 pieces and shoving them in a desk drawer, I surrendered the bag to a coworker and asked that they be locked up indefinitely. That lasted exactly one hour. I handed them off thirty minutes before leaving and had the bag back in my possession within the first half hour of the next day and they never left my side from that point on. I consumed half of the bag!
Richard I am so ashamed!
My binge didn’t end with 55 pieces of chocolate. Heavens no, I was bound and determined to be successful at something, so overeating and making myself feel like shit physically and emotionally was the winner! Throughout the next four days I ate in no particular order, McDonald’s, St. Louis Bread Co., Favazza’s, Baileys Chocolate Bar, Pizza, Pot Roast, Dairy Queen Ice Cream Cake and Peanut Butter M&Ms. This was just during normal meal times. I also took in a matinee on Saturday and 4500 calories in popcorn, twizzlers, junior mints and whoppers. But don’t worry, I wasn’t completely crazy. I washed it all down with a 44 oz DIET coke! I certainly can’t justify empty calories to drink!
If it weren’t for these two and the Smurfs….
What happened to the running you ask? How often do you see a hippopotamus charging through your neighborhood? All of this high calorie uber delicious food made me feel as if I weighed 1000 pounds and my motivation slipped right out the door. Unfreakingbelieveable. One week I am vowing not to look like “one of those rap guys’ girlfriends” and today I feel like Richard Simmons should be knocking on my door and dragging me to Maury Povich! OK, so that is dramatic, but really, how do the 1200 pounders get that way? By working really hard like I did last week! I am finishing up the last of my deliciously salty sweet pretzel M&Ms as I type and I will be back in the game tomorrow. I mean, really, you can’t possible expect me to not finish the bag, right? 
Eat the Chunky or be the Chunky…..that is the question
Despite all of the crap that I consumed, I only gained 1/2 a pound this week. I am absolutely unsure of how that is at all possible, but the scale doesn’t lie. I hope…….
I took my friends to Schnucks this afternoon to stock up on fresh produce and to say hello to our pals
***BLOG BONUS***
Idiot moment of the week, as if the afore mentioned wasn’t enough. I was walking into the back entrance of one of my office locations this week when I unexpectedly hit a pot hole and did a dismount that would have made Kerri Strug stare in awe. You see, in the midst of sticking my landing, I danced right in front of the O.A.T.S van that was dropping people off next door. I guarantee you that despite and physical complication that those poor people might have had, I most definitely took the gold medal for looking the most handicapped!

Leave a Reply