My inner fat girl is behind the wheel

1. I gave up on Whole30 and even concluded that I should give my body maximum calories while training for a marathon instead of continuing in any attempts to shrink my Jelly Belly. My inner fat girl heard I had loosened up on the reigns and she has steered my car into the Whataburger drive no less than 4 times. My inner fat girl has also scrounged up quarters and gotten Dr. Pepper out of the soda machine at work 3 times. Twice there were enough quarters left over for animal crackers so she sucked those down, too.

She's also sucked down bowls of Cheerios before bed, pieces of chocolate, a Jimmy Johns sandwich, another Jimmy Johns sandwich, some BBQ chips, 1/2 a sleeve of Trefoil cookies and more Dr. Pepper than I care to remember. I’m pretty sure this is what falling off the wagon feels like. And I’m pretty sure it’s not good.

Not restricting my calories isn’t supposed to mean sucking down crap and forgetting about all my good eating habits. It also doesn’t mean I need to attempt to gain weight. Because in my brain, sucking down soda all day means you are attempting to gain weight. There can be no other explanation for sucking down that many calories that don’t make you feel full, don’t give you vitamins or energy and you’re just consuming it because you like the taste. I also tend to think the sugar entering your body feels pretty awesome. So there’s that, too. But still.

When I started on my health kick, the whole point of exercising was to burn calories. My husband told me a million times exercise would be good for me and help me have more energy. I didn’t care. I wanted to burn calories. So it feels really weird to still be exercising with a goal that doesn’t include burning calories or losing weight. Talk about wild. It’s going to be extra wild once my marathon training is finally over and I get to step on the scale to figure out exactly how many calories I’ll need to burn to try to clean up the fall out from all these trips to the Whataburger drive thru. Fall out primarily being my pants size. I’m currently wearing a size 8 comfortably. But my size 6 jeans have been MIA on my messy side of the closet. I may need to track them down and get a little reality check. Perhaps a reality check is what my inner fat girl needs to cease and desist with all the Dr. Pepper.

I love that little trainwreck.  But he's still a trainwreck.

2. While discussing school with my 8 year old over dinner last night, his class had again not gotten to play outside at recess because it was so cold out. He told me they watched a math video instead. He then began tearing up and a little tear started trickling down his cheek as he lamented in the most pathetic voice at the injustice of life because, “I had to learn at recess. It’s not fair.” I wish I had that on video so I could play it on repeat for his college buddies years down the road. Beyond ridiculous. Then, to add insult to injury, the video had the nerve to say it was Pre-K and as I well know he is in 2nd grade not Pre-K. He was now indignant on top of crying. Um. Yeah. Note to self: Get dinner on the table earlier because this china doll about loses his mind when he’s tired and hungry after a long day.

3. I have finally gotten my Downton Abbey on. I was a little behind on this season. Now I’m not. Good stuff. Thumbs up. I’m very confused that the guy randomly decides he wants to marry Mary and is prepared to wait 2 or 3 years for her to be ready to marry again. Didn’t that guy just roll in like a hot minute ago? Slow your roll, bro. And I’m currently very upset for poor Mr. Bates. My favorite was when he said he must have done something wrong in their relationship because she wasn’t capable of doing anything wrong. In my household, my husband would say that exact same thing. The difference being that my husband would be heavy on the sarcasm. I love that Mr. Bates says it and you know he genuinely means it.

Clark Kent would like you to know, he didn't appreciate that little joke comparing him to Mr. Bates. 

4. I am currently reading The Husband's Secret by Liane Moriarty and I’m so curious to find out the secret I actually felt tempted to Google it this morning. I had to restrain myself with promises of reading 50 pages tonight. Now I’m concerned 50 pages won’t be enough to get to the secret. Darn it. And yet, such a good problem to have with a book you’re reading. Rule for life: If you are randomly thinking about the book you are reading during the middle of your busy day, you’ve picked a good book.

5. My little Cub Scout did not win the Pinewood Derby. I knew we would not be winning when we arrived for weigh in the night before and my husband was busy assisting with the set up. I was now in charge of our car weigh in and we were all officially screwed as this dumb female right here brought the weigh in line to a complete stand still trying to figure out the what the target weight was even supposed to be let alone how I was going to fix it.  My 8 year old and I then began a series of trips back and forth to the scale as we super glued pennies on the bottom. Randomly, naturally, because I know nothing about physics or how to strategically disperse weight.  Then, just when I think we're done, I shut the line down a second time when they want to know if we've "graphited."  I didn't even know "graphite" was a verb let alone what I'd be graphiting. Deer in the headlights.  But we graphited the hell out of those wheels. The Cub Scout had fun so whatever.  And next year, I'll be googling the hell out of it beforehand.

Momma, when did graphite become a verb? 

6. In the fall, my daughter's volleyball team registration somehow went awry. I was the scapegoat for what I consider the incompetence of the YMCA registration system and crappy customer service. And by scapegoat, I mean I was getting made fun of more than usual in my household. Luckily, my daughter does more than one volleyball activity per season so she successfully lived through the trauma. I, on the the otherhand, had lingering scars.  Registration is now open for the next season and to clear my name once and for all I dragged my whole crew down to register live and in person with witnesses. I resisted the urge to take photos or video while we were there. The girl at the counter asked if I wanted a receipt at the end. Hell, yeah.

7. Now that I've successfully registered that kid for volleyball, we can all get back to more important issues like how the hell we're going to hawk another 47 boxes of Girl Scout cookies. Or as professionals like us call them, 47 boxes of product. I seriously feel like I'm in a Breaking Bad episode everytime I say that. The other day I also described our neighborhood as "getting oversaturated" with too many girls hitting up every house. So now we're on the hunt for untapped markets. Because, the longer we cling to these cookies, the more oversaturated everywhere is getting. By the end of the month the urgency to part with these cookies is going to ramp up like an episode of 24. On the brightside, my household is doing it's part to inhale half a box per day. So there's that.