193lbs, 6lbs lost, $320 raised

1 Day without sugar.

I cracked.  Christmas day.

It started with Christmas Card from my ex-boyfriend (mr. 5-page letter himself) from college’s Mother, saying how nice it was to see me at my best friend’s wedding, and meet my ’cute beau.’  Sigh. 

Then Christmas Eve at my parents getting drunk with their retired neighbor friends, where I was the only one under 60, the phone rang really late and one little biddy excitedly asked ‘could it be my boyfriend calling?’  When I told her that wasn’t possible because I didn’t have one, she insisted that I was dating a nice young man.  Or at least that is what she thought, maybe she was confused?  Hard to blame her, I thought I was dating a nice young man too… and I’m definitely confused.

Later that night, we watched a home video my brother-in-law made for the family. It was highlights of a trip my entire family took for my 30th birthday in May, along with my best friend, her husband, and their little dog too.  I braced myself. But my brother-in-law had kindly edited out said ‘cute beau’ cutting instead to adorably awkward shots of the little dog in order to fill in the gaps. 

Which of course prompted me to run to the bathroom and explode into SavedbytheBell quality tears.  Think Jessie when she gets all hopped up on those caffeine pills.  I’m so excited! I’m so excited!!!

Something had to give.  

My Father (the same man who once served cans of cold baked beans with forks to my sister and I for dinner when Mom was out of town) has recently been possessed by some sort of cooking demon.  I don’t even recognize this tall creature as he stuffs chicken breasts, whips up 3-layer carrot cakes, and bakes olive oil bread from scratch.  I got scared for awhile thinking my Dad is the final Cylon.  

Until on Christmas Eve, trying to get a stuck pan out of the cabinet they all fell. And losing his temper, he shoved them back in violently while muttering curse words.  He slammed one last pot home with a double F-crescendo that warmed my heart. Thank God, that’s my Dad!

For Christmas, my former cold-beans-from-the-can Father baked dark chocolate biscotti with chunks of espresso inside. 

Something had to give.

Click on my Charity Badge!   to donate to those that don’t have the luxury to feel guilty for overeating this holiday.

Here’s to a New Year coming. My friends have promised me a light at the end of this long tunnel.  At this point, I’m just praying it’s not the oncoming train.

    Continued from PART I

Part II- Christmas Eve

Setting – A lonely drawer

A JOLT and shifting metal KLANGS banging against each other longing for touch. Sudden light immerses Potato Masher in shame at being exposed so precariously intertwined with Serving Fork. She is not proud. But it is lonely in the dark.  A low-carb year, she has been banished to the drawer since Thanksgiving and finally succumbed to his 3-pronged attentions.

What’s the matter, Babe?

I’m sorry this was a mistake.

Hands carry them into the light. She catches sight of her true love then. His embossed porcelain shimmers in the warm glow of holiday candles. Steam rises out of his wide mouth. A place she once found home in, now he is filled with dark rich liquid.

Can you see me?

She can not be sure. But imagines he lets out a shudder at her words. A trickle of velvety hot juice escapes him, spilling over.  Hands lift him, revealing a dark ring on the counter. Take him away from her.

Wait. I‘m here. I am coming.

Silence. He does not acknowledge her cries of love. It is then she sees Serving Plate, that flat skinny bitch, preening with the knowledge of her superiority.

Mash, my dear, give it up.

Gravy Boat rejoins his matching partner, and they are whisked away to the bounteous table. Hands fumble extracting the insufferable Serving Fork from her intricate curves. A place she should have never allowed him in the first place.  But what can she say?

I am only Utensil after all.

With a BOING they are flung apart, and she is falling.  Bouncing.  Dizzy with the fall, and a broken heart, she rolls across the tiled floor. Kitchen debris clings. Slick Dog tongue abrades her frame, soothing and demoralizing simultaneously. Rescued from this unnatural bath, she is dumped into Sink’s stale water which has lost all its suds.  And no longer lathers luxuriously.  She waits beneath the murk.

Waits for him despite herself. Waits for him though she knows it is fruitless. But she can’t help her heart.

Time goes by anyway, as it does. Carols fill the air as the kitchen grows hazy with food and family. She is picked up, Hand dries. Smears a cool shining gloss against her, and rubs. Hard. Harder. Moving faster, polishing, stroking in and out of her curves. Her hated curves. Polishing her into a glowing heat till she beams with beauteous satisfaction. Done. She thinks.

But then she is drawn close as a PUFF of warm air encompasses her entirety. Again PUFF over a difficult spot on her inner curve. A tiny rough spot carefully worked over. Rubbed. Buffed. Again and again. Until with an internal shudder of submission, she grows sleek and smooth. Satisfied, her once hated curves vibrate with the synchronicity of pleasure and luminous well being. Till every passing Hand has the inexplicable need to run a finger along her edge.

A Christmas miracle places them on Drying Rack together. She beams not despite of herself but due to herself.  She can feel the heat of his skin close to her. And see the slight chip in his perfect veneer, evidence of their hidden affair.

You look lovely.

I don’t believe in you anymore.

I’m not perfect, as you know. Darling I want to say…

What were the next words to be, an apology? A long awaited declaration of his love. Would he dare with his matching set in earshot? What will she have to take with her back into the darkness? For even the hottest metal too soon grows cold.

But she will never know.  Before he can finish, Hand grabs too roughly unaware of his masculine frailties. A faint CRACK explodes into a earth quaking SMACK. His handle splinters casting his rounded solid body to the tiled floor. Unlike her, he is not strong enough to withstand the fall. The sound of SHATTER rings her core.

Noooo. Don’t leave me this way.

It is an accident. No one’s fault. Only love.  Love ending in disaster.

But is this the end, my love?

 

Stay tuned …

Read Part III

Today is the last day to enter Menu for Hope, an annual fund-raising event in support of the UN World Food Programme.  Food bloggers from around the world host this on-line raffle where for every $10 you get a virtual ticket towards amazing food prizes. 

I entered today for prize UE23- dinner for 4 at Union Square Cafe.  23 is my lucky number, and with a lot of the prizes all over Europe and Union Square 7 minutes away from my Fat Ass, this seemed like fate!  Thank you to the sponsor of this prize A Finger in Every Pie - a really delicious blog by a local NYC foodie.

I woke up this morning sort of blue and annoyed by Christmas in general. The fact that Menu for Hope was a result of one person’s desire to help after the devastating Tsunami in Southeast Asia adjusted my perspective.

Although, selfishly I would love to win this prize and treat 3 of my friends to a place I’ve always wanted to go, but couldn’t afford.  this made me think of other out-there gifts I would love this Christmas.

1. Self-cleaning teeth, because sometimes at night it’s just a pain to get up and brush.
2. Christmas with my guy, and getting dumped before Groundhog Day instead. although then I may be doomed to repeat the heartbreak over and over.  But that would be different how?
3. a tiny orange kitten with white paws who I would name Clarence. 
4. Space between my chubby thighs. 
5. The entire cast of Battlestar Galactica to come to my house and act out season 4.

I’ve been running my own contest of sorts.  If you or anyone you know has a story about any silly or downright stupid things they did in the name of losing weight, or vanity, please email them to me at wgwafa@gmail.com 

The top stories will be posted on this site- and the winner gets a donation to the hunger relief charity of their choice.  

Today is the last day for Menu for Hope 4, click on the picture to check it out.

 

And email me some funny stories people- I’m depressed!!

192 lbs.   7lbs lost.  $250 dollars raised.  28 days sugar free. 

I gained a pound during my sister’s recent visit.  Not bad considering how much fun we had. But I am sad that I now weigh more than a Yamaha EF5200DE Generator  However, it was a wonderful visit. I felt like myself for the first time and discovered I should have started drinking much sooner in this break-up!  But it did make me realize beyond this blog and vowing to post my Bare Ass to raise money for hunger relief, eventually I am going to have to work on the whole eating right and exercising thing. Creating habits for life.

I lost the 8lbs pretty fast on the getting-dumped-and-not-eating-out-of-devastation food plan. But I can’t highly recommend it.  Getting the boot right before the Holidays has taken me 6 years and multiple tries to perfect.  A talent that doesn’t comes naturally to all. 

After not eating anything for a week, I realized that I had lost my craving for sugar.  Sugar! That which I consumed, looked forward to, and obsessed over on a minutely basis. 

Like life, normal eating eventually resumed. Since then, I haven’t done much in the way of ‘dieting’ other than reducing portion size and NO sugar.  Now I’m not examining labels for hidden fructose, or denying myself fruits or natural sugar, just the obvious cakes, cookies, Starbucks concoctions and the like.  

I have to say.  I feel amazing!  So much more energy, no sugar crashes, or late afternoon meanies. Overall the desire to snack and eat has ebbed to a dull murmur.  I’m going to ride this wave for as long as it takes me.

The holidays have been interesting.  With office parties and the exchanging of candy and cards at work. I’ve simply told people that I can not have any sugar.  Working in new position and new department, I’m only politely friendly with those around me, so I have chosen to be slightly mysterious and macabre about the no sugar.  Between that and spattering of days I called in sick, my continual puffy eyes due to hidden crying, or dark rings from lack of sleep, and a couple of fake doctor’s appointments to sleep off hangovers-  I think those around me have surmised that I am suffering from some weird disease. 

Normally a very reliable person, with a high work ethic (despite blogging on company time) I am really enjoying this.  But now I have sort of pigeonholed myself.  Everyone knows ‘jellykean can’t have sugar’ but no one knows why.  So surrounded by holiday baskets, chocolate boxes, candy canes I smile politely and say ‘no thank you’ with a slightly wist-full smile. 

I think they are all waiting for me to crack.  And maybe I will.  Last night I had a dream about chasing around Santa’s elves and biting their tiny little pointed ears off.  Because they tasted like Charleston Chews.  Or would that be considered natural sugar? 

Click on my CHARITY BADGE- you can send a holiday e-card to someone and make your donation their gift.  That’s not cheating!