i sort of want to be oprah.

This morning I sent a group of coworkers an email with an attachment to the free KFC coupon Oprah is gifting to America, as I’d heard about it on the Today Show this morning.

Coworker: “Are they changing the name to Kentucky Un-fried Chicken (KUC)?”

Me: “I’m down with KGC.”

Coworker: “Oh okay, cool beans! (or mashed potatoes or coleslaw)”

Me: “Do they have mac & cheese? I have never been there.”

Coworker: “Yes and OMG. You need to get out more!”

Clearly he is unaware of my whereabouts as of late.

air mail.

Dear Jesus,

I have come to a decision. Well, really, I came to it over time of being absent of guilt. You know, guilt of trading off my Sunday “free pass day” for Saturday evening wedding receptions. Or deciding that if it’s special, it’s an exception. And that you and I were good with this.

Here’s where I’m going with this. I’m not Catholic. So this whole give up something for Lent thing was all in good fun anyway. I have learned that I am more aware of when I eat fried foods now. And – whew – I think everybody should take a moment of silence to appreciate that because I didn’t think it would ever happen. But at the same time I have also learned that even though I do not particularly care for mushrooms, fried mushrooms? Are worth trying.

And so is fried mac and cheese. While it’s not my favorite thing in the world (and by no means should ever replace my oh-so-beloved mac and cheese which I have just decided might be my choice for a dying meal) it is quite good. And again, worth trying.

Oh and loaded potato egg rolls from King Street Grille? HOLY SHIT. I’m pretty sure we decided, though, even in my state of hangover, that those were also fried.

And you know, when the boss is buying and it’s Bojangles chicken, I really can’t say no. We’re talking the boss here.

Ah yes, and when nursing yourself back to health after a good long night out and at the same time trying out a new restaurant in town, I think it’s appropriate to be able to try the fries. Just sayin’.

And then, well, I lost 2 pounds since last week. And I really thought that deserved a reward. So what if chicken fingers and french fries most likely tossed those 2 pounds right back on. It was damn good while I ate it.

So since I feel confident that you’re okay with this, and I’m okay with this, I’m going to keep on with, well, you know, creating my own rules.

That felt good, though, you know. It was like confession. Confession for Methodists!

Talk soon.

xo,

Kristin

confessions of a non-dieter.

It was my idea. I sent the email. The one with the rules. The DO NOT BRING IN KRISPY KREME DONUTS type rules. The one with the weigh in start date and the finishing date. The one to ALL of my coworkers. The one that was intended to encourage me to lose the necessary 10 to 15 pounds I’m starting to feel might be required to even FIT into my bridesmaid dress.

So we weighed in Wednesday for the first time. I went on a run that night. And then I started my Thursday off right with some oatmeal for breakfast. And though I decided, really, why ignore that mexican craving when a chicken soft taco isn’t going to kill me, I thought I was doing well. I went to the gym and faced the “Oooooh look who’s here!” voice of the trainer. I mean, pssh, it had only been like a month. What’s a month!? (Or two.)

So I was back! (And totally remembered why I like going to the gym! HELLO HOTTIES IN THE WEIGHT PIT!) And I burned! burned! burned! at the gym and I was oh so proud! The money my coworkers had to cough up for the pot that is to be won with the greatest percentage weight loss in 6 weeks is SO GOING TO BE MINE.

I drove home with the windows down and what did I find when I arrived? But the roommate, sitting on the front porch post-jog drinking a water. I walked up to the door with my gym bag and purse and she said to me, “Why don’t you put your stuff inside and grab us a couple of PBRs?” Oh no she did not. Because who can resist a PBR? Certainly not I.

So I did. And we drank it. And then hot neighbor came over and introduced himself and his dog Brewster and we drank another PBR. And then hot neighbor asked us if we wanted to play ladder golf. AND THEN, hot neighbor and his people came outside with THEIR VERY OWN PBRS and it was love! Love, I tell you!

And calories, more calories mind you. Because after you sit around the front yard long enough and you drink enough PBRs, what do you want? Why more PBR.

And Pizza Man. PBR and Pizza Man. Heaven in a shack.

So that’s what we did. We went to Pizza Man and when we walked in the waitress looked at us and said it. “Pitcher of PBR?” Oh yes she did. And when we said, “Yes, please, and can we go ahead and order our pizza? Medium with red bell peppers and tomatoes?” she said to us, “Tonight is buy one get one free medium pizza night.”

AND SO WE GOT TWO.

Hi, you can call me fatty.

i'm pretty sure my coworker just called me fat.

Me: “Can you go buy me a biscuit?”

Creepy: “From where?”

Me: “Bojangles.”

Creepy: “Sure.”

Me: “REALLY!!??”

Creepy: “No. Why do you want a biscuit?”

Me: “Um, I’m hungry. Can I have a dollar?”

Creepy: “For what?”

Me: “So I can go buy something in the vending machine upstairs.”

Creepy: “Where’s your money?”

Me: “I don’t have any. Duh.”

Creepy: “You shouldn’t eat.”

Me: “And why is that?”

Creepy: “Because you lost weight and you don’t want to put it back on.”

Me: “Are you telling me to be anorexic?”

Creepy: “I’m just saying you don’t want to put on more weight.”

Me: “MORE!?”

Creepy: “That was a compliment.”

Me: “A backhanded one, if that.”

Creepy: “You will know when I insult you.”

Me: “Excuse me while I go throw up my dinner in the bathroom.”

dear abs, where did you go?

It is January. Freaking JANUARY. And all I can think about is June. And July. And heat. I actually want the humidity back right about now. Gasp. (I realize 40 degrees to some people is really not all that frigid.)

One of my albeit many resolutions this year (or more so a necessity) is to actually get back in shape. Not to be able to run again without death closing in. And not to lose some pounds. Been there, done some of that. But to actually achieve that I know I can’t be a freshman in high school again but I’m a version of that. With hips. (Well, some.) Duh. And I think even slightly bigger boobs. Maybe. That makes me laugh.

Last night I went to Publix (and was somewhat disappointed by their limited Kashi collection) and gathered up some oatmeal to replenish my work stash and some lettuce to use for salads for lunch.

When I came home, the roommate had returned from work and was ready to launch into a discussion about how I go on a kick and then I exhaust myself and then I’m over it for a couple of weeks. And then I start anew. And how she’s lived with me through these and so “all things in moderation, Kristin.” She also routinely calls my mom “crazy” and reminds me that I have “food issues.” But I digress.

Her point was what again? I don’t think it’s that detrimental to my overall wellbeing if I feel like getting up and being at the gym at 5:30 am right now, and not, say, next week. I mean, that’s between me and my resolution contract. (Oprah once said to sign a diet and fitness contract with yourself. Tried that. Broke it. Didn’t feel guilty. Not signing my resolution contract.)

Moving on, last night I sat on my bed, totally enraptured by Bromance, and went through my collection of Self magazine. For what, you might ask? Perhaps an elixir to make either my thighs disappear or my abs reappear. That I sadly did not find.

But I’m sure I can find some new magazines to go through tomorrow.

i feel like someone tripped me.

From West Coast to East Coast J.Crew searched, to no avail, for my small Dream Soho Dress in dark-eggplant. Are the shopping gods really against me?

Oliver Barrett, I’ve loved you without every meeting you. But let’s just say I’m going with you and Ryan O’Neal being two totally separate people. (And just in case there’s any confusion, you, Oliver, are the real one.)

Will someone please explain to me why I cannot get a solid night’s rest anymore? I mean, honestly, I used to never have sleeping issues. This is important. Thanks.

I once liked the Philly Cheese Lean Cuisine I had for lunch today. But somewhere between the freezer to the microwave to my mouth, it just wasn’t working for me. Which is a shame. Because I have food issues. More importantly, I have frozen food issues.

But darn it if that egg salad on pumpernickle I had at Gourmet Shop Tuesday wasn’t out of this world.

For all coworkers who verbally abuse their spouses in a cubicle environment, while it can be mildly entertaining, it is also somewhat disturbing. Make a mental note of that.

I had Honey Bunches of Oats with skim milk last night for dinner and it was fab, like always. Seriously. Everyone. Go out now and getcha some.

I’m not sure when people decided that since they know someone at a particular office that deals with the General Assembly, that we should be the ones researching nursing scholarships for their daughter. And then they get antsy? Well freaking do the research yourself. We know AGRICULTURE. Not education. Doofus.

I had this overwhelming feeling today. It started yesterday, or maybe the day before. The feeling, you ask? Is that I am in fact, a bad friend. Contrary to what I thought. And when it hit me full force today my heart started hurting and my eyes started welling up and I got the sudden urge to drop my classes and quit my job and flake on my monthly bunko group and just be there all the time for the people I love. But darn if that wouldn’t get annoying to them really soon.