25 Days of Thinking Thin....or at least thinking less fat ass...

So, first off I would be remiss not to mention that I received the beautiful blogger award last week from The Chicken's Consigliere. Thanks Chicken! No more "crossing the road" jokes for me since you so thoughfully passed this my way. It makes me feel beautiful and like blogging all at the same time. I mean, who can sit on their ass, watch reality TV and NOT blog all day after someone rewards you for your blogging abilties? Not this girl. So here you are.



And in true blogger-who-gets-an-award fashion I must pay it forward, and I wasn't sure who I would send it to until I read The Sassy Curmudgeon's ode to denim shorts. Then it hit me like a bad pair of cutoffs on a hot summer day. So here you go Sassy lady. Enjoy!

And now onto business. I received an inspirational email from my sista from another mista, Corrie (you know the marathon runner?) and thought, "How fun would it be to make this a blog?". And by fun, I totally mean I now have 25 ways to amuse myself and possibly torture you. Sounds like a blast, doesn't it?

Anywho, so the email was "25 Ways to Think Thin" which will now evolve into "25 Blogs about why It's the Hardest Thing in the WORLD to GET Thin After Being Fat Forever". I know, catchy right?!?

So, way numero uno is:

The only thing between you and your goal is Y-O-U!

And I'm all like "Shut the front door! Seriously?? I am the reason I am fat??" And it got me thinking out loud. Which does not help my credibility amongst those I know, because I already say too many things out loud and people are starting to look at me funny. But I had to sit and think about all the things I may have eaten that have made me fat. This is not for the faint of heart so feel free to shut your browser down now, or at least skip to the end of the blog. For your own safety, and to avoid vomiting.

Things that may or may not have made me fat:

~An entire ROW of Oreo cookies with half a gallon of milk while watching Real World/Road Rules Challenge: The Duel (and now I am singing in my head, "Ice cold milk and an oreo cookie")

~An entire package of Pepperidge Farms Chocolate Chunk and Macadamia cookies while sobbing through an entire season of Tori and Dean: Home Sweet Hollywood

~An entire pint (or 60) of Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey (or Chubby Hubby depending on my mood) while watching re-runs of The Real Housewives of New Jersey (which in my opinion are the only ones worth watching - I mean what is better than tacky Jersey girls with big hair who throw tables? Um, nothing!)

~3/4 of a bag of Doritos combined with an entire container of Bison Chip Dip, washed down with numerous cans of Diet A&W Rootbeer (cause that totally cancels out all the calories) while watching The Biggest Loser. (I know, ironic right? Yet still, a little funny)

~An entire bag of Skittles. Just because somedays, I have a need to taste the rainbow. A lot.

The list goes on and on but I am getting nauseous just thinking about it. But I guess my point is that I never really blamed MYSELF for getting fat. I blamed junkfood and reality TV. It was just easier that way. I never really took the time to shut my fat piehole, turn off the TV and suck down a good, old fashioned dose of reality. I wallowed in self pity and cancer and denial. And the bigger the denial, the bigger the snack.

I was "that girl" that always started strong on the diet train and finished lying down on the couch with my face covered in Sour Patch Kids remnants, watching Springer and wondering why I had no energy to get off the couch and throw chairs at people. It was a viscious cycle that I relived for much of my adult life. And whenever I looked in the mirror, I always saw other things and people I could blame.

But the real point is, while some people think I took the cheaters way out by having the surgery, the fact of the matter is at least I did SOMETHING. At least I realized I needed help and got out there and made a change. I took a chance and changed my life and I won't feel bad for doing that. What I did is no different than an alcoholic or a drug user entering rehab or attending meetings. It is no different than a lifelong smoker wearing a patch or taking a pill to quit smoking. I had to stop and realize I WAS addicted to food and that I DID need help.

So I want to apologize to Nabisco and Bison and Pepperidge Farms, for I am certain your sales have dropped considerably since my little surgery, but sometimes a girl just has to put down the cookies, turn off the television and go for a run. And not one after the ice cream truck this time.

Because, yes, for the moment, this is all about me. And the change can only come from me. And I stand proudly with my gut sucked in, my shoulders pulled back and a smile on my face when I say:

"Hi! My name is Lisa, and I am a Foodaholic."

Everyone in unison: "HI LISA!")