For the third time this week, I have been asked if I have lost weight. For the thousandth time if I am okay. For the hundredth time, given advice.
The answers are respectively: yes, no, and no thanks.
I struggle to lose weight usually, and I have finally found the secret. Want to know it? Stop giving a fuck. It’s really that simple. Stop trying, stop doing anything at all. Oh sure, you could take the conventional route of healthy eating and exercise, and maybe even live longer, but this is so much simpler.
I have skipped meals for nights, days, who knows how long? I have intermittently added copious amounts of alcohol to the equation. I have slept a total of about 10 hours over the last week. I have engaged in heavy labour, while running on nothing more than a few sugar-free energy drinks and an odd vitamin. Oh, and walked quite a lot. And it seems I have found my thing. That thing that works for me. Oh goody.
Obviously this is all a product of two factors. Copious amounts of stress/pain and a less than fulfilling job.
I currently work odd hours, so eating properly becomes a juggling act of when, what and where, so it’s easier not to bother. (Don’t worry, my dogs are still getting all of their proper, regular meals). The energy drinks keep me awake for work-minus the sugar hit.
And the stress…well that takes care of the rest. Lack of appetite, sleeplessness, alcohol (but it’s good home still, crap-free alcohol-honest).
So all in all, it’s quite a balanced plan of deprivation, and generally not caring. If only I’d known sooner. All those clothes I could have seen in a window and *not* bought, because that’s generally one of the things I don’t give a fuck about.
So, now that my heart and soul are at an all-time low, at least my self esteem will benefit from it. Always a silver lining huh? I might go down in a screaming heap, but at least I’ll look pretty good on the way down. And people are noticing to boot. I’ve been told I looked thinner (Okay…maybe they also added pale and distant), attractive, have great muscle tone (they may have said similar to She-Ra…or maybe not-you’ll never know), that I am impressive (even criminals can be impressive), that someone ‘wants’ me (don’t hold it against them-everyone makes poor choices), and even that my arse looks ‘perkier’ (don’t ask).
Sadly, the only person in the whole world, that I would want to notice, isn’t even looking. Not that I need the attention, or have done anything I regard as ‘notice-worthy’, it’s just a really shit realisation, that that’s the way it is.
I have lost almost a full clothes size in the last month by the latest measure, but I still have a ways to go, so I guess there’s a LOT more fucks to not be given. I’m not a comfort eater, in fact quite the opposite. Not only do I forget to eat when I feel bad, but I also feel bad when I eat. This where my lack of fuck-giving falls down. Every calorie makes me feel guilty and regretful…And I don’t need to feel worse than I already do (if that’s really even possible?)
As for being okay. I think it’s fairly obvious that I’m not, but we don’t need to go into any further detail just yet. If I can accept it, you can.
I’m pretty sure that the few people asking if I am, are really doing it for decoration, because they know otherwise, but just can’t change the fact. It’s a bit nice to know that they care enough to ask in the first place. Someone actually told me that if they can hear me making any noise, they relax for a while, because they know I’m still here. A pretty grave thought. I guess I can’t hide how I feel right now as well as I thought.
My last word on the topic, is that I don’t really recommend this type of weight-loss regime for anyone. In fact I hope none of you, ever feel like this. But if you do-milk it.
Cheers Kids *raises highly alcoholic, sugar free mixer, terribly strong, glass*