As of today, I have tracked everything I eat, and have had at least some form of physical exercise for over 165 days straight. I have dropped three pant sizes and my boyfriend’s jeans are falling off of me. My boyfriend is a fit fellow with the perfect little waist and abs to match. He has to plan to gain weight. You hear me?! He has to plan to gain weight! I on the other hand, am convinced that if I don’t go to the gym and plan out each meal that I will gain weight by the second. He doesn’t know I stole his jeans. He’ll be alright.
But let me tell you a story about my lack of Will Power. I have that capitalized because every time I have the strength to walk away from certain food items I imagine Will Smith in the Pursuit of Happyness clapping and crying after he achieved success.
I have planned out all my meals. I carry a huge bag every day with my breakfast, lunch, dinner & snacks. I was doing good today, I had cauliflower for breakfast y’all. Cauliflower!
But then tragedy struck. My eating schedule got thrown off while waiting for my coworker to pick me up. When he shows up, he starts talking about dripping Cinnabuns and then he decides to stop at Dunkin Donuts. I started sweating. I had a decision to make: wait 10 more minutes when I’d have access to a microwave or make my coworker order two donuts for me. This was a make or break it moment. I sat in the passenger side of the car watching the Dunkin Donuts sign get closer and closer. I could smell the sprinkles, I swear.
I picked the donuts.
My coworker offered to hold them for me until after I consumed the healthy meal I prepared (because then maybe I’d be too full with my zucchini and turkey to want a donut), but then he comes back to the car and puts the box of donuts in my lap.
I haven’t always been perfect but today was one of those days when I said, “Hey there Progress, It’s been real. It was all good while it lasted.” I said farewell to the my boyfriend’s jeans and the one ab that was almost about to reveal itself. I calculated how many hours I’d have to spend in the gym to get rid of the calories from both donuts and decided that I was going to eat the donuts even if that gym session was not in my near future.
I lasted 1 minute and 26 seconds before I broke the seal and started humming negro spirituals while I inhaled a donut with chocolate frosting and sprinkles. I had that one Michael Jordan tear. I had that Soldier Boy tear. I had that Darth Vader “Nooooooooooooo ” moment from when he realized that his girlfriend died because of him. It was like the Popeyes incident of 09′, where they knew me by name and I gained 30lbs in a ridiculous amount of days.
Donuts are the sweets equivalent of a F-Boy. They promise a lot though we know they’re full of uselessness. You know they’re stale but you’re drawn in by the frosting. They don’t really fill you up and they just set you up to crave more bad stuff.
But it was good y’all.
Afterwards, the zucchini I made tasted like regret and lost dreams that fell down a well with no Lassie in place to save them.
Just no bueno.
Pray for me, y’all.