Weight Gain Battle

So, I've decided to start using speed. In other words, I've started upping my caffeine intake to battle the weight gain usually inevitable in smoking cessation. I'm drinking a can of Rockstar(TM) Energy Cola, which, in addition to extra caffeine, is loaded with all those herbal uppers. I'm all afidget and kinda twitchy, which better suits my personality than being all slow and sleepy, as the past week has been.

Unfortunately, ephedra is no longer legal in dietary supplements (you can always leave it up to some whiny cunt with a heart condition to go bitching to the FDA and ruin it for everybody), but I can still get it in bulk herb form at the hippie grocery store, I think. If not, maybe I'll just fucking drive to eastern Oregon and pick some. Benefit of being a botanist, I know how to identify all those lovely plants that get you high.

I was never one of those little bitches who obsesses over her weight. I was a very skinny kid and didn't even start growing tits 'til I was 18. I had a friend with an eating disorder in high school. She idealized my body as what she was striving for as she ate her half package of Nutter Butters, washed down with a bottle of ipecac. She landed herself in the hospital a couple of times, for attempted suicide I think. She started using smack to keep her weight down, and died of a self-inflicted overdose at age 17.

I didn't even start keeping track of my weight until a few years ago, when I noticed that a lifetime of being the skinny kid who out-ate her entire family was catching up with an aging metabolism. It had taken me ten years to put on the 30 pounds that started to show on my frame. It took only one month to lose it last spring, when the boyfriend of four years suddenly dumped me. When I found myself, all of a sudden, at my prime, teenaged weight, I started really paying attention to my body, because everyone else was.

Some of my friends said they were worried, but I think they were just shocked at how quickly I lost that much weight (my coworkers, who saw me every day, even noticed). I put 5 pounds back on at the end of the summer, and called it good. A little more than a year later, I've kept the weight off and goddamit, I intend to keep it that way. I weigh 135, give or take 1 or 2 pounds, depending on the time of day. Not bad on a 5'7" frame with a propensity for building muscle.

I will start exercising, and probably counting calories a little. I will try not to annoy Scott with this new obsession. Being a control freak at heart, I think it might help me a little when I'm battling cravings that I can't abate if I buckle down and focus on keeping this ball in my court. I'm eating turkey jerky and sugar-free gum for lunch today.

* * *

When I get home I will take a shot of vodka from the freezer and mow the lawn. Then I will consider making a very healthy dinner, but will ultimately decide on chili-cheese dogs with tater tots and mac 'n chee, or some other culinary delight. I will consume one TrimSpa fat-blocking pill before eating, take some vitamins after eating, then pace around the kitchen for an hour thinking about having a snack. I'll probably eat two or three spicy garlic dills, having recently discovered that pickles have only 5 calories and no fat. Then I'll either geek out with Scott or lay on the couch and watch VH-1 until I forget about how much I want to smoke.

April Showers

...bring May flowers, but what the fuck good is torrential rain in May? It's dark at 1 in the afternoon, and it sounds like the sky is breaking. It's supposed to be nice and warm and sunny, dammit!

You think I'm exaggerating, check this out: For Portland, the normal rainfall for the water year (since October 1) is 31.32 inches. We've been in a drought all winter and spring. Last March I think we were only at like, 60% of normal rainfall for the water year. As of May 18, we were at 73%. As of yesterday, we are at 76%. That means in only one day we got an entire 3% closer to normal rainfall. That is insane. By the end of today, we'll probably be close to 80% normal. I'm happy that we won't be in a drought this summer (hopefully), but I'm pissed that I can't barbeque yet.

Adventures in Catassery

Sigh.

So, Scott's cat has decided to revisit the whole "shitting all over the house" thing. Yesterday he not only shit on the carpet, but pissed on the blanket that was on the couch. So half a bottle of Kids 'N Pets later, our $1000 couch that we've had for all of 6 months is now full of catass. Every day I come home from work, dreading what I may find. The last coupla times he actually waited until I was home, and then let it rip when I went to the kitchen. For fuck's sake, I just quit smoking three days ago. I got one good nerve left, and that little fucker is on it.

The first time we caught him doing this was back in November. We tried to give him kitty Paxil, which had worked on my cat the couple of times he sprayed. We were successful at getting the shit in his mouth once, but you've never seen a more pissed-off beast. He just sat under the dining room table glaring at us, letting the meds just drool out of his mouth into a puddle on the floor. Just to spite us. The next time I tried, the little fucker bit me. Like drawing blood, teeth marks all over my thumb and shit.

If we lock him in the basement, the other cats won't have access to the litter boxes. If we lock them all in the basement, that'd be kinda cruel and unfair, and mayhem would certainly ensue. If we try to put him in the bathroom or the mudroom, we'll come home to find all the shelves ripped down, the house plants knocked over, with the soil all shat in and the leaves all chewed up, and a rabid Caesar gone all feral and shit. On second thought, maybe that's not such a bad idea. (no, I'm not actually contemplating exposing my boyfriend's cat to toxic houseplants, but it's tempting)

Seriously, this fucker is bat-shit insane. We tried to let him play on the front porch last weekend, and everything was all cool for like, 15 minutes (which was a goddamned miracle). Then SOMETHING happened. Maybe it was a bird chirping. Maybe it was the wind. Or maybe a piece of dandelion fluff landed near him. But all of a sudden, the little retard does this backflip into the screen door and crashed. I thought he was just gonna plow right through it.

He's a cute, crazy and entertaining little bastard, but I really wish he'd stop shitting in my house. I'm at my wit's end. No one who's trying to quit smoking should hafta deal with this. It's hard enough to resist the urge to strangle a human with my bare hands, let alone a cat.

Top things I wish I were doing instead.

Instead of gritting my teeth and clenching my fists, these are a few things I'd rather be doing (in no particular order):

1) Making homemade stock
2) Eating biscuits and gravy
3) Playing the new Zelda, even though it won't be released for like, 6 more months
4) Taking a hot bath that smells like lavender and rosemary
5) Having slow, cuddly sex with Scott
6) Planting my tomatoes
7) Drinking some wine
8) Watching Napoleon Dynamite for the Nth time
9) Eating nachos
10) Shopping for summer clothes

I wish I had powers like Sabrina the Teenage Witch so I could just swirl my finger and my work would be finished. I haven't gotten a damn thing done today.

Quitting is a drag.

Scott and I quit smoking. Today is Day 1. It fucking sucks. I've smoked for ten years, and this is the third time I've quit. I'm paranoid that I'm gonna get fat and turn into a raging bitch and that I'll drive Scott away. I've been eating only one meal a day for the last few months, but now it's hard to skip meals when I can't just bust a French. Ugh.

Stupid fucking cancer.

Had a scary dream last night

Oh, Jesus fuck. Last night I dreamt that my brother and I had been charged with espionage for middle-eastern terrorists, and had been arrested and taken to Afghanistan. For some reason, they let me use my cell to call our dad and tell him we were being held up and were gonna be a little late. Anyway, the fucked up part of the dream was when I was in the room where they administer electro-shock treatments as a form of torture to the prisoners. I was watching the dude repeatedly electro-shock this man who was strapped to the table screaming through a gag. I woke myself up when I saw the dude lubing up his gloved fist with Vaseline and made the guy flip over. GAH! Even when you wake up from that kinda shit, you know how the imagery just lingers?

I don't know what's more fucked-up: the shit I saw in my dream, or the fact that I dreamt that shit up.

Keeping up with the Joneses

My boyfriend started one, and my MySpace one is lame (a little game-heavy). Deep thoughts to come.