Sinking into the depths of despair - just like the Titanic

Motivation is at an all-time low. I've considered tossing "car maintenance" month in favor of "self destruction" month. In fact, I'm tempted to just book my car in for a detail and oil change and lie to all of you. You bet. After wakesurfing with the world champ, April was always going to be a bit of let-down, but I've managed to take it to a whole new level. This morning, I hit an all-time low.

You'd think that participating in zero activity and taking 2 weeks off from the gym (still suffering from old man bursitis of the knee) would motivate one to eat somewhat healthy, but I've completely gone in the opposite direction - devouring anything and everything in sight. And not caring. At all. I don't care. The month of March was the most dedicated I have ever been to my fitness and food regime. I looked and felt awesome. It was truly the best shape that I have ever been in. I've now managed to completely reverse all of that hard work with inactivity, chocolate, wine, and carbs. Lots and lots of refined carbs. My body reacts consistently each and every time I ingest these "bad" carbs. First I'm happy. MMMMMMM. This tastes sooo good.  I love carbs! Then I become angry. I hate the weather. I hate Prince Albert. I hate my 2002 Grand Am. Wanna fight? Let's go. Finally, I feel hopeless with despair. Where's my life headed? What's the point of my life, anyways? Gawd my feet are big and ugly. Ugh!

Realizing the destructive "bad" carb cycle, I've avoided them since my last fitness/nutrition breakdown which occurred in December. To the dismay of my Grandma (crochet Grandma), I've faithfully attended our weekly teatimes without touching a cookie, biscuit, or piece of cake. I think this pissed Grandma off. Just a little. "Kirstie, why wouldn't you have a biscuit? It's homemade and we'll just put a little butter on it. It's good for you!"

Well no one was more eager to contribute to my carb relapse than my Grandma. As I walked into her house on Thursday, I dared her to "Bring it! Whatcha got, Grandma? Bring on the beige!" Smiling happily, she presented me with her finest biscuits, cookies, and Russel Stover chocolates. With a fat kid grin on my face, I devoured everything in sight. That night, my stomach hurt, my head ached, and I channel-surfed lethargically and miserably on the couch. "This is my rock bottom," I thought, "tomorrow, this bullshit ends and I start eating healthy again."

Oh, but it wasn't my rock bottom. On Friday night, I found myself double fisting a giant bowl of popcorn and a glass of red wine whilst watching "Say Yes to the dress."As my greasy fingers slipped and slided all over the wine glass, I shouted at the southern bride on TV, "That dress looks retarded!" (Angry phase) Continuing to shove the buttery popcorn in my mouth, my eyes became heavy and I slipped into a insulin-spike coma. Waking at 3am, upright on my couch, head bobbing, hand in popcorn bowl, I recalled a dream I had just had. In my dream, I was walking around eating out of a litter box. You know why I dreamt that? Because I'm eating shit! Obviously. "This has to be my rock bottom. Tomorrow, this bullshit ends and I start eating healthy again."

Not quite. Our gym hosted an event on Saturday to raise money for the SPCA. While eager, excited, and motivated participants sweated and gasped for air while running and rowing (raising $4500!!) I sat on the sidelines and sneakily ate Timbits. I don't even like Timbits. Stupid Timbits. One lap for you, 1 Timbit for me. This timbit tastes like crap. I'll try this one, maybe it's better. Nope, it sucks too. Give me one of those chocolate ones. Why can't Tim Horton's make decent donuts???? (PS: thank you Tim Horton's for sponsoring our event.) Give me another. Ugh. Rock bottom? No way.

 I awoke Sunday morning to 50km/hr winds and a fresh dusting of snow. Snow? Are you frickin kidding me? I had officially entered the "depths of despair" phase. Searching facebook to prove to myself that everyones' lives were obviously much better than mine (that's dangerous, my friends. People only display pictures of themselves being awesome on facebook- no one shares the picture of the fight they had with their spouse whilst waiting in line for "It's a Small World" at Disneyland!), I came across a picture on Drew's page. Entitled, "Just another Saturday on the boat," I gazed at a picture of a dolphin smiling happily as Drew's family patted the slippery little dolphin head. Seriously? Why do we live here? I want dolphins and warm weather! I gazed out the frosty window as I inhaled a stack of pancakes (extra butter and syrup please!) and wallowed in my self pity.

Just another Saturday on Drew's boat

Must Move. NOW.

Pitifully shuffling around the house in a baby blue velour leisure suit (Ev calls it my "smurf suit" and knows that the probability of making out are slim to none when it is worn), I convinced Ev to order Chinese and settled down on the couch for an uplifting showing of "Titanic." As I munched on my chicken balls, I was cautiously optimistic that the iceberg would be spotted in time, preventing the horrible ending that I knew was imminent. Nope. That damn ship sank again. In between bites of chicken chow mein, I bawled. And bawled. I ugly cried for Rose. I snotted for Jack. How sad. How horrible...Damn this chicken fried rice tastes good....how cold that water must have been...and I was bitching about a little April snow? Gawd I'm a horrible, selfish human being.

Waking to my alarm at 6:45 this morning, I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and waddled to the bathroom. Lifting my toothbrush to my lips, I glanced at my reflection in the mirror.
AAAAAACCCCCCKKKKKK!!!!!!! WTF? Who is this wretched 90 year old woman? Dark, deep bags circled my red, puffy eyes. It was horrid. The combination of MSG, food with no nutritional value, and ugly sobbing for 2 hours had completely turned me into a monster. I contemplated calling into work "ugly," but resorted to caking foundation and dusting "shimmery beige" eyeshadow under my eyes (doesn't work, by the way). Rock bottom? Man, I hope so. That was approximately 13 hours ago. In the last 13 hours, I have not touched a refined carb. I went back to the gym after work today. I don't want to fight. I'm not wearing the "smurf suit."I'm feeling much more positive and motivated....but not quite motivated enough to clean that damn car.