You know how when you’re busy, you make poor food decisions because you have to eat like you’ll never eat again? That was essentially my weekend. It’s also what I do every time I work a wedding or an event. I seriously represented every part of the food pyramid that is horrible for you. Yesterday I assisted with my first ever recital for my mother-in-law’s dance school. Since meals were confined to whatever you could shovel in your trap in between lining up tiny sequined dolls for their numbers, my meals consisted of:

-Frosted animal crackers
-A maple cinnamon granola bar
-A (couple) piece(s) of pepperoni bread
-A salami and cheese sandwich in a pita pocket (which at this point seemed healthy)
-A cheddar cheese stick

And that was just during the show. After it was over, I was given the task of picking up the mini sandwich platters for the after party. Which I promptly devoured two of before the guests even arrived because I wanted to beat the crowd. A handful of bread and butter pickles, three helpings of macaroni salad and a hefty slice of birthday cake later and my food coma set in. Did I mentioned that whilst consuming this food I enjoyed two mason jar margaritas and a birthday cake shot? I mean, it was Cinco de Mayo (good excuse as I’m clearly embracing my non-Mexican heritage) and my sister-in-law’s birthday.

By the time I left work, I was literally feeling like crap. I definitely knew I should go to the gym. So I dressed  in my underused TJ Maxx workout duds and putzed around my apartment. After almost a half an hour, I decided it was time to get off my ass and be serious. So I of course spent 20 more minutes on Pinterest and updated my Spotify playlists. Then nausea set in. I knew it was my body rejecting me for treating it so horribly. My own anatomy was trying to break up with me, but like an endangered wife in a Lifetime movie, couldn’t bear to think of what life would be like without the abuse.

Or maybe it was the fact that I took a vitamin at 6:30 without food. Either way, every organ in my body was screaming at me to stop the violence. I texted Steve and begged him to make me a salad for dinner. But still, I needed to attempt some physical exertion today. So I went to the gym. I almost fell off the elliptical from the shakes, but I at least did 30 minutes which mentally made me feel a little better.

So why put this all out there on the Internet? Because like the closet intervention, I often don’t recognize how out of control I am until see it written down. Also I don’t like to just come out and tell my husband when I do dumb things, so I wait until he sees them on the Internet and questions me later. And of course, blogging is about being honest, and if I put it out there how horribly I’m treating myself, people will ask me about it and it kind of holds you accountable for your actions.


Consider this a cry for help from me to myself. I have to get it together. Whenever I talk about my lack of enthusiasm for exercise or my humorous binge snacking anecdotes, people always look at me disgusted and go “ugh. But you’re so skinny.” While I am on the petite side, I can feel myself ruining my body, and I’m only getting older. Before I know it, things are going to start slowing down and trying to move south. I’m not saying I’m going to turn into Jillian Michaels overnight, but I need to at least attempt to work in some healthier habits into my life. I’m not giving up macaroni and cheese. Definitely not. But maybe stop being a crazy secret shameful snacker all the time, every day.


So here’s to not eating an English muffin at 11:30 pm, going to the gym more than once a month, and avoiding food babies at all costs. And also regular babies. Gotta get my stamina up before I can even think about giving birth someday.


~L


Also, five points for you if you get the Margaritaville reference in title. I was going to do a play on “lost shaker of salt,” but I was worried that everyone would burst from excitement of thinking I had selected a set of salt and pepper shakers. Which I haven’t.