SO Hungry

I stepped on the scale the day my eldest daughter graduated, and was horrified. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, it was that I had no reason to. Going through a devastating breakup when you’re 9 months pregnant has a way of leaving you gun shy. It wasn’t that I hated men, but I absolutely never wanted to see one naked, again.

I live in a very small town and her graduation was a walk down shitty memory lane, with a bakers dozen of my bad choices for good measure. All of whom are married. Now don’t get me wrong, I have no desire for captivity but when you’re the fat, single one… you feel it.

I came home and made myself get to it. I dug my stupid weights out, rolled the elliptical machine into my bedroom and pulled out my measuring tape to take stock of just how bad things were. It was dismal, but the beauty of being single is that I have ample time to change it. Something happens to me at a certain point, and I get obsessive about running, so I knew I just had to put one foot in front of the other until then.

It’s been 4 months, and we’re there. I’m running first thing in the morning and into the late hours at night. I’m squatting my ass into a prettier shape than it’s ever been and I have muscles in my back I didn’t even know I wanted.

But.

I. Am. Hungry.

I’m pretty sure it’s why I can’t shake the sexual frustration off. Chocolate is off the table, and that comforting bowl of carbs would only ruin the progress I’ve suffered to achieve. As much as I can physically taste the memory of buttered pasta, it doesn’t hold a candle to how much better I look in my panties.

My friends are the most amazing cheerleaders. I walked in to work yesterday and the Songbird beamed at me.

S- Dude. Your ass looks amazing in those jeans.

J- I love you. I’m fucking starving. I’d perform sexual favors for a Lunchable.

I’m not kidding. Thinking about food is just as bad as fantasizing about Incredicock. I could spend all day long thinking about eating the perfect steak, but its only going to make my salad taste worse. Along those same lines, once you do eat what you’ve been craving, you want it every day. Abstinence is never fun, but it has carved 55 pounds off of me.

I follow an amazing woman on Instagram who has inspired me to find my hot body again and I’m sharing my suffering with y’all to keep myself accountable.

Oh and…

because it really does look amazing in those jeans.

buns

 

 

 

Hungry

Something happens when I start running again. The first week is agony, the second gets a lot easier and by the third week? I’m running before bed and getting up early to squeeze in a half hour before I have to get the day started.

Obsessed? Sure.

However, I could spend a good half hour discussing the magic of ice cream and talking to me about pasta could turn you on because I have pornographic feelings for carbohydrates. I had half a peanut butter and raspberry jelly sandwich for lunch yesterday and my Songbird laughed.

S- That is the saddest lunch I’ve ever seen.

Honestly? It’s so fucking delicious that I have to close my eyes to chew it. Peanut butter is contraband. Bread is off limits. Jelly is a complete waste of calories.

But MY GOD. I can still fantasize that sandwich back into my mouth. It was worth it. I’ve been eating kale and swiss chard for months. By some stroke of good luck, a deer got stuck INSIDE my garden fence last week and annihilated every last leaf. The blessed sandwich was a result of that & nerves over my date tonight.

I bagged up another size to take to the thrift store and zipped into my very favorite jeans. Aaaahhhh. There are huge rewards to starvation and pain. These jeans are worth a year of kale. The sight of my ass in these pants is more satisfying than food and I know from previous experience that the beautiful man I’m seeing is an ass man. I added two new squats this week and it feels like I got stung by a bee when I sit down. That means it’s working, right?

Reaching for my coffee feels like an aerobic move and I can feel my entire muscular structure when I type. To say I’m sore is quite the understatement. I’m a tightly wound bundle of nervous tension and my mind is wandering in places it shouldn’t. I sent Mr. Incredicock a picture, thanked him for putting my fingers back on the keys and fucking me so well I have the confidence to go on this date. Then deleted him out of my phone for my own good because I crave him in the worst way. Great sex is a mixed blessing when you can’t have it whenever you want, and fucking him is like experimenting with heroin.

Even the thought of him gets me back on the damn elliptical machine. Contrary to popular belief, you can actually run from your problems. It does amazing things for your ass.

I’m mid run when Mr. Grey calls. I can’t talk so he’s telling me about his day and the cases he’s litigating in court tomorrow. I’m trying not to pant and he stops mid sentence.

G- Where are my manners? Hello Miss. How’s your day?

J- Great!

G- I can’t wait to see you.

Off the elliptical. Breathless, sweaty and a little sick to my stomach with nerves.

G- Bring your appetite. They’re known for steak and I know you’re hungry.

Someone should warn him just how right he is.