Like everyone else on the entire planet, I struggle with my weight.
I was a pretty lean kid, due in part I’m sure to how much time I spent outside playing, and managed to balance my insane teenage “eating an entire Totino’s pizza followed up by a carton of Ben & Jerry’s” calorie overload with 4-mile walks and bike rides and trail adventures (the only good thing about living in the suburbs – you had to walk EVERYWHERE, and everything was super far away).
But that all changed when I hit 16 and got a job at McDonald’s (woot! free chicken mcnuggets and quarter pounders!), and simultaneously discovered alcohol. If there were ever two things that can mess up an awesome metabolism, it’s fast food and booze. It’s no surprise then that I gained 40 pounds in less than a year, and became more interested in getting drunk and watching TV than heading outside.
Still, the weight gain didn’t bother me that much until I dated an absolute asshole (more on that at a later date) who mentioned it. All the time. Every single day. Which resulted in my barely eating anything – I would basically have a can of coke for breakfast, snag a Hostess product for lunch, and drink my way through the rest of the hours at school. But (also no surprise), this method failed to help me magically drop pounds (turns out a fifth of Bacardi is not exactly health food), with the added benefit of frequent fainting spells, low energy, and being sick for days on end. Who knew? (Adults, probably.) Continue reading