I'm Going to Die

(I'm going for drama, here, ok?)


For the past 15-20 years or so, I have been in denial. I have eaten whatever my little heart desired whenever it desired it, and despite the number on the scale growing bigger and bigger, I looked the other way. I mean, I knew I was growing (and not in a good way), but I LOVE PIZZA. I mean, I really, really, really, love it.


So here I am now - 45 years old and heavier than I've ever been. But worse than the weight, I know I'm not healthy. So much to my horror, I've agreed to a 30-day detox/cleanse/diet with my #workwife. I just want you to know how much I'm dreading Monday (when we start). I am legitimately grieving.


So how do I plan to stick with this, knowing how much I'm dreading it? Well, first of all, I just spent a lot of money on this gimmick (actually, I hope it's not), so there's the financial guilt that will hang over me. Second, my work wife, Carmen, will be doing it with me and since we work out of her house during the week, I will have someone holding me accountable during the weekdays (though if *she* displays any weakness, all bets are probably off because I'll probably run to Dunkin Donuts down the road). Third, I have a very supportive husband (who, let's face it, is probably hoping his wife will drop a few pounds) who will keep me from bingeing on CheezIts and Pringles when Carmen isn't around in the evenings and on weekends (though sometimes she's around then, too). Furthermore, he's willing to eat whatever I eat as the man honestly DOESN'T CARE what he eats. HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE??? This is the man who used to bake a bag of potatoes and take them for lunch for a week... He'd put them in his pocket and take a bite whenever he got hungry. *THAT* was "lunch." And that was ok for him. Like, what?? Anyway, I could go out back and pick a handful of grass and he'd probably be happy.


But what really got me - A quote from my husband: "If I can quit drinking, you can go without pizza for 30 days."


Touché.


So here I am. 45 and on the brink of something. I hope it's not death by salad. Because I always dreamed of dying in either a more glorious fashion or as a really old broad. Of course if I don't take care of myself, I may not make it to "old broad" status. So whatevs.


UGH. GAH. Have I mentioned that I LOVE PIZZA?


I know I'm going to die someday. But here's hoping I don't die in the middle of this diet. Because that would make me really mad.



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