So, why do I feel like I want to take all of these boxes of protein bars and put them in the road and run over them like Tammy would have done George's stuff?
Hello, my name is Holly and my drug of choice is Coca-Cola (Hello Holly, welcome). There should be a recovery group for my people, the Co-cola people, the Mountain Dew people, the Dr. Pepper people- just like the 12 steps for alcoholics and overeaters to get off of this cracked out stuff! The withdrawals- even after three weeks, almost four now- are still killing me and I would probably shake down a little kid just for a sip.
I have passed it up, passed it by, chosen gallons of water in its place. I haven't cheated on my "diet" and after almost a month, I've only lost 6 pounds. 6 pounds might sound like a lot if you are a super model, but for me, well, it's a good beginning.
To quote G.W. from Sordid Lives when talking to Noleta about her 40 pound weight loss he said "That's kind of like the Titanic losing a few deck chairs." That's how I feel! I was so excited in the beginning; I was thinking the pounds were melting off and I was going to be my best, perfect self by my birthday this year (December).
See, I'm being reasonable, I'm not expecting this overnight. And my fat ass has a long way to go. And let's don't even talk about the redneck haircut that I had in the middle of this that almost made me snap and go straight to 7-11 for a fix!
This crap is hard! I'm an emotional eater from way back. Right now, I could devour some birthday cake, a doughnut, and drink the hell out of a Co-cola. Instead, I will drink another gigantic Tervis tumbler full of water- my seventh for the day- and go to bed. I mean, I have to be in ketosis, because I have breath that smells like it belongs to a dead cat, and could stop a train. My husband thinks that I am meaner than a bag of rattlesnakes and is doing anything he can to avoid me right now. He is working extra and playing a lot of golf.
I'm giving this program one more week. Tonight, I'm getting the books back out and will be following this thing to the letter. If that doesn't work, you can find me at The Betty. You should know, that before I check myself in to Co-cola rehab, I'm gonna suck down a six pack of Co-cola and possibly eat an entire Emily's pound cake.
Coming off of real drugs has to be some kind of nightmare, because if this is how you feel just coming off of sugar and Co-colas, I'd stab someone in the neck at rehab with the end of a shoe lace. I can't decide whether to just start going through my closet and throwing fat- frumpy things away or put on my tennis shoes and start running like Forrest Gump. Maybe I should just drink some bourbon? No, can't do that, that's not on the plan. The Forrest Gump project probably sounds like the best idea.
Singing Merle Haggard's old tune....
Love y'all,
Holly
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