Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Helga Needs to Go the Hell Home

See? Helga is laughing at me- the bitch!
Helga has visited me once again. (Helga was first introduced about a year and a half ago; her full story can be read by clicking her name, for those not familiar with her.) This time, it looks like she's staying for a little while, and she has just happened to come at a very inconvenient time.

As a refresher, Helga is the Fashion Fairy's disgruntled cousin. She sneaks into your closet at night and hides your favorite clothes, or exchanges your clothes for smaller sizes of the exact same brand and style, so you don't notice it until you go to put them on and they no longer fit.

Seriously, this bitch needs to stop visiting me.

She first came (this most recent time) around Christmas, when Hubby visited. You see, I'm an eater when I'm happy. It's when I'm stressed that my body shuts off and I end up getting down to skin and bones, being told that I need to eat a cheeseburger or two. But when I'm happy? I'll eat just about anything you put in front of me. So, if you combine the amazing holiday meals and baking with Hubby and I rekindling our love and putting our family back together- yeah, I'm surprised I could still make it out of the door without turning sideways.

Then came getting an amazing job at the tattoo shop up the street. Relaxing atmosphere, not nearly as much stress as the shop I was at in South Carolina, they work with me as far as my flexible schedule with the kids, the money is good, and I'm doing what I love. So, take the 10 pounds or so I gained at Christmas, and add a few more.

Then a mother freaking Brooklyn pizza place opened directly next door to the tattoo shop. My weakness.
Pizza. Pasta. Cheesecake. Subs. It's like the weight gain gods were all aiming at me, and let me tell you, I flew the white flag. Screw trying to fight strombolis and cheesesteaks with peppers, mushrooms and onions. I'll give in... gladly.

At this point, Helga is just camping out in my closet, waiting, and laughing.

As if all of that isn't enough, I then decided to quit smoking. Some days, I'm not the brightest crayon in the box. I honestly wrestled with the idea of quitting smoking, purely because of the weight gain factor. As it was, my jeans were already tight, and I didn't want to make it worse by quitting smoking. I took my sister's advice, though, when she said it was more beneficial to my health to quit smoking and gain a little weight, than to continue smoking and maintain my weight. Plus, she said, I can always work the weight off after I've quit smoking.

So, I jumped in, head first, into it all. (I've never been one to take things one step at a time.)

The first week of quitting smoking was hell. I actually went from a pack a day down to 3 cigarettes a day (and yes, I consider that 'quitting', thank you), and plateaued there for that week. Ended up gaining 3 pounds in the process.

I wanted to find Helga and strangle her.

I introduced light yoga into my daily routine, and found myself not only being able to breathe easier, but also not craving a cigarette, and craving healthy foods instead. So, today I stocked up on healthy foods to munch on, and I'm feeling good about it.

How long has it been since I've actually smoked a cigarette? 5 days now. And, I don't have cravings, or a desire to smoke anymore. My ammunition? An electronic cigarette. Seriously. If a craving hits, I take about 2 drags off of the electronic cigarette, and I'm good to go. So, now that I'm making the no smoking thing my bitch, it's time to tackle Helga.

At the moment, Helga has left me with one pair of jeans and one pair of gray slacks. That's it. And, the 'inconvenient time' I mentioned in the beginning? All of my larger clothes are in the storage unit. So, I don't even have fat back up clothes. My temporary fix of that? I headed to goodwill today and bought 2 pairs of jeans. I refused to try them on while I was there, though, because I didn't want to break down in tears in a public place, so I bought a size up from what's in my closet now, paid, and left.

Helga must have visited my bag of jeans while we were grocery shopping, because when I got home, one pair of jeans fit, and the other pair was too tight.

I seriously hope Helga is happy having her way with me... with no lube or loving, by the way.

So now I have 2 pairs of jeans and a pair of gray slacks. I can squeeze into my black cargo pants, but they are a last resort. And my closet full of my usual jeans? A no-go for the moment. Those jeans make my muffin tops look like king sized loaves of bread.

For those that know me, like, really know me, y'all probably want to slap me right now. I'm not saying I'm fat; I'm still within the range of a healthy body weight for my height and build; but it's about 15 more pounds than I'm used to, when I really only needed to gain 5 back in the day. So, I'd be happy losing that excess 10 pounds- that's it. But, for anyone who has ever dieted before- you know the last 10 pounds are the hardest.

My plan of action will remain on course with yoga routines in the morning, healthy eating (I plan on a cup of yogurt, hard boiled egg and a banana for breakfast, sandwich from home for lunch, and a healthy dinner each day), trying to drink more than just coffee in a day (hey, at least it's not soda), and just taking care of myself in general. No more smoking, don't worry.

And I plan on finding Helga and having a damn nice chat with her. She needs to quit visiting me, please. Go bother Angelina Jolie- she looked a little frail at the Oscars. Oh, or Snooki- she's pregnant. Leave me to my yoga mornings, my mango salsa lunches, and my 2 girl scout cookie limit, please.



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