The Hunger Games

My name is Madigan and I have an oral fixation.  Before any of you menfolk get over excited, oral fixation doesn't mean what you want it to mean.  It means that I chew gum, bite my fingernails, and eat.  This has been my biggest obstacle to losing weight.  I've spent my life allowing my cravings to get bigger and bigger while completely neglecting the development of self-control.  As a result, my willpower is that pale, scrawny kid who gets shoved into lockers most days.  And now, all of a sudden, I'm expecting him to stand up for himself and fight back.  Basically, I keep sending Sheldon Cooper up against Bane.  Spoiler: Sheldon doesn't do very well.

With Comic-Con just seventy-one days away, my diet and exercise routine must reach ludicrous speed.  There is a Slave Leia costume hanging on my bedroom wall, taunting me with it's equal potential to be incredibly sexy or incredibly unfortunate.  I know that I can get into shape in no time at all, if I can keep delicious food out of my mouth and exercise every day.  Unfortunately, I don't live on a deserted island covered with spinach and treadmills.  I live in a house with people who love ice cream and bread and fried things.  I work with people who celebrate birthdays and holidays with cake and Filipino food.  I get home from eight hours on my feet and an hour of sitting in traffic and the last thing I want to do is an hour of vigorous physical activity.  Long whine short, THIS IS HARD.

This is me.

 I'm not sure how much I weigh right now.  According to the scale in my bathroom, it's somewhere between 150 and 220.  I'm starting to suspect that my scale might not be entirely accurate.  I think I'm somewhere between 170 and 175.  Considering I started at 230, that's amazing.  However, by itself, the 170 region is still intolerably fat for my height and body type.  It's all in my stomach, which is exactly where it needs to not be in two and a half months.  It can't be a good thing that I'm secretly hoping that what I refer to as my "beer gut" is actually a tumor. 

So, Sheldon Cooper needs to step up his game against Bane.  I need to start saying no to food that's bad for me.  I need to stop being such a little bitch and get on the damn treadmill when I get home from work.  I need to do more sit-ups in the morning and less eating during the day.  I need to realize that, while I look significantly less disgusting than I did this time last year, I'm still not terribly attractive whilst naked.  Or whilst clothed, for the matter.  I need to remember that when my friends tell me how good I look, it's by comparison to how I used to look.

Hey look... someone captioned a picture of me from last Summer!

This is the plan:

Fall out of bed.
Lay on the floor for a couple of minutes, very nearly falling asleep despite the uncomfortable position.
Do a whole mess (a very scientific measurement, I know) of sit-ups and crunches.
Eat non-fat yoghurt and a bowl of Crispix with non-fat milk.
Check Facebook, Tumblr, e-mail, Words With Friends, and Draw Something.
Stay in the shower longer than necessary.
Realize shirt is inside out.  Fix it, go to work.
Work for a few hours.
Eat lunch, which I brought from home, consisting of spinach, carrots, tomatoes, red wine vinegar, and chicken, turkey, salmon, or an egg.
Work for a few more hours.
Have 90-calorie Fiber One bar.
Work some more.
Drive home, slowly, surrounded by other commuters.  Try to refrain from eating another Fiber One bar that's just in my bag next to me and they're so delicious and OH GOD I NEED ONE RIGHT NOW.
Change out of my uniform immediately upon arriving home.  Go directly to bedroom, do not stop at fridge, do not collect snack food.
Dinner, which will be boring as hell, comprised of some type of lean protein and vegetables, followed by non-fat pudding because fuck you, I need chocolate.
Treadmill and sit-ups or horrible Jillian Michaels video.
Crawl into bed, turn on TV, fall asleep.
Rinse and repeat.

I'm going for non-fat everything, working under the notion that if I don't give my body any new fat to burn, it will have to burn what already exists on my body.  I'm not sure if that's a sound dietary theory, but it makes sense to me, so I'm going to go with it unless it backfires horribly.

But this is entirely contingent upon me being out of the house for most of the day.  It'll work really well on the five days a week I spend at work.  But, Madigan, what about your days off?  Well, internet, my days off are spoken for.  I intend to spend them almost entirely at bartending school in Riverside.  I will be out of my house, away from a kitchen full of things to put in my mouth out of boredom, and I'll be learning a valuable new skill: getting people drunk and acquiring their money. 

This will be me. Except female. And without all the Scientology.