This whoa-is-me pity party has been brought to you by the letters F-A-I-L. Population: ME.
This past week has been a giant clusterfuck of sugar and wine and chocolate and disgustingness which is making me feel like a bloated Canklesaurus Nonanorexus. For those of you unaware of the term "cankles" it refers to women whose ankles are so fat that they are being eaten by her calves, making them one chunky dunk union of flesh. I need a sugar detox and possibly an enema.
So, I admit I hit the FAIL button one too many times this week, and I stand before you with my head hung in shame, sugar dripping from my pores and say this....Hello, my name is Lisa and I WAS a sugaraholic. I can't believe this used to be my drug of choice. I can't remember why it was something that held control over me for long. I can't recall why the temporary high was so worth the long term result of headaches, exhaustion and an overall feeling of nausea. I. just. feel. sick.
I seriously don't remember the last time I felt this sad about the way I am. I don't like this feeling of overall helplessness. I feel like I have not only betrayed myself and my body, but the people who have been rooting me on. I think back to this past weekend where I ate so much crap that I wish I had drank a little more so I could claim alcoholic amnesia.
The silver, frosted lining to this cloud of sugar filled marshmellows is that I have learned a big lesson....and it didn't take 15 years for it to sink in. I DO NOT EVER want to be this way again. I never want to feel like this, look like this or have to talk like this ever again. I am vowing to myself that I will be a success story. I will pick myself up, dust off the chocolate shavings and sugar granules, get on the treadmill and get myself right again.
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