Every day, I promise myself tomorrow. More tomorrows have flown by through weeks and months than I can even keep track of.

And I still haven’t done what it is that I do, a couple times a year. Without success, might I add.

Join Weight Watchers. Again.

So today. I dropped my son contentedly off at Kindergarten, where he was excitedly placing his birthday invitations into each of his fellow students class mailboxes.

I said goodbye and I hurried out to my car.

And drove myself, without even consciously thinking, over to the Weight Watchers building where, for the second time in a little over a year, I signed up.

I promised myself, as I held my breath while I waited for my credit card to be approved, that this time it’s going to be different.

This time. I will succeed.

I have no excuses anymore. (Except for that damn Halloween candy)

There is no reason why I can’t do this. Sadly, this time I have more weight to lose than last time. But that’s neither here nor there.

I have a treadmill so there is absolutely not one excuse for me to not work out.

I’m tired of ignoring myself in the mirror. My quitting smoking excuse. Is getting old.

I have determination. Today, at least.

Baby steps, right? One day at a time.

And today is the first day. With my baby step leading me to ignore the Halloween candy which, I SWEAR, is calling out for me to come and eat it. Can’t you hear it? Melissa! Melissa! I’m a Twix bite size. Come eat me. Mwahahaha.

I’ll just keep walking on my treadmill, my Slacker app on the Duran Duran station playing loudly into the earbuds.

Haha Halloween candy. I can’t hear you.

Hopefully my kids will eat the rest of that candy before I have a chance to give in to the temptation.

But just like quitting smoking. I won’t stop trying until I succeed. And if I can quit smoking, you’d think losing weight would be a piece of cake.

Without the cake, of course.
(Wait, how many points are in a piece of cake?)

*Sob*

*Sniffle*

*blows nose*

I’m.  A.  Failure.

Well…I am.

OK, a failure at diets.  That’s all we’re talking about right now!

Even though the title of this post suggests otherwise.

I’m the only person I know.  Who gains weight on EVERY. Stinking. Diet.

A few weeks ago, when I announced the no fail diet that I was going on, I was all pompous and arrogant.  And so what if they basically mean the same thing…

Because I was…

For sure…

going to lose all 30 pounds I had gained from quitting smoking.

And, by the way, on March 21st…it was a year.

I celebrated that amazing feat…

by going up ANOTHER jean size.

Yeah…my lungs thank me.  And your lungs thank me.

My fat ass and the inside of my thighs that have been rubbing together…THEY aren’t thanking me.  Not so much.

And my bank account…not too happy with me because I keep having to buy bigger clothes.

I know what you’re thinking…I’m psychic.

You’re thinking…zip the mouth.  And move the ass.

Yeah.  Well…

I KNOW.  OK.  I. Know.

*drapes hand over forehead* But I just can’t muster up the willpower.  Sigh.

The last time I did this diet was with medication called Adipex.  It…was a miracle drug.  Not kidding.  After the first couple days of the jitters…I felt great.  And the pounds shed off.  And stayed off.

Until I quit smoking.

Which…I won’t start again.  Not even a smelly, gross hair, breath, clothes, yellow tooth, yellow fingernail option.  No offense to those of you who do smoke.  I was talking about my smelly, gross hair, breath, clothes, yellow teeth and yellow fingernails…not yours.

So back to this diet.

I was doing pretty well for the first couple of weeks.  Without the med part.  Down 6 pounds…not too shabby for 3 weeks.

Then…crisis struck.

Sick kids.

And when you have sick kids…you’re stuck at home.  And when you’re stuck and home…aside from blogging and twittering…you’re bored.  And when you’re bored you…eat goldfish crackers, and bowlS of cereal, and whatever crap-shit-else you can find to shovel into your mouth…

to numb the bored-ness.

And you raise your shoulders at your husbands questioning gaze as you’re shoving HUGE pieces of freshly baked banana bread into your mouth…crumbs landing on your expanded bosom.

5 pound weight gain…

WHAT?

And you raise your shoulders at your husbands questioning gaze as you’re complaining to your dieting partner in crime about your lack of success at this diet, while shoving in handfuls of cheese-its into your chubbier cheeks.

3 pound weight gain…

HUH?

So…

As I was saying.

I’m a willpower lacking, dieting failure.

And I need intervention before I eat myself into the shape of a hot-air balloon.

OK…I hear you.

Never stop trying.  Right?  That’s what you’re going to say to me.

I’m not.  That’s how it is that I’ve tried almost every diet out there.

Weight Watchers…all it does is teach me how to eat junk all day but stay within my point range.  Which could really explain my lack of weight loss there…hmmm.

And South Beach.

And Atkins.

And various others that I can’t think of offhand.

Well…

On this Medical Weight Loss Diet…

The one that I am CURRENTLY failing at…

They offer this booster shot.

They shoot it up…

in my hip.

Where I’m…fleshy.

It has all sorts of vitamins in it, as well as some other good stuff.

It ALLEGEDLY aides in making your metabolism go faster.  And it SUPPOSEDLY does something to your fat cells.   Also…and I GUESS…importantly…it has all sorts of healthy B vitamins.

I’m trying it.

I’ve got nothing to lose.

Except for…

(ready for the cliche?)

30 pounds.

I’ve had 3 shots already.

So far…

nothing.

But they SWEAR by it at the clinic.

They like it better than the more expensive diet that you take the meds with.

And I’m a gullible sucker when it comes to anything that claims fat and weight loss.

We shall see.

I really am hoping to lose weight by July.

For Blogher.

At the rate I’m going on this diet venture though…

The hotel is going to charge me double occupancy.

You know I’m on this diet, right?

I want to get back to my thin form.  So I can wear my hawt couture clothing at Blogher.  Actually…so I don’t have to buy new, hawt clothes for Blogher so I can spend money in Chicago but…anyhoo…

This diet I’m on.  It rawks.  Big.

I’ve never NOT lost my weight from it.  I ALWAYS get to my goal weight.

This will be the 3rd time I’ve been on it.

Why, you ask, if you get to your goal weight…are you on this diet AGAIN?

OK…fairnuff…

First time…lost weight and stupid ass me…got pregnant.  But…despite the fact that aliens abducted her, she’s pretty cute and it was worth the 45 pound gain.

Second time…I lost 40 pounds. Went down to a beautiful, perfect, can wear any clothes I want (not shorts or mini skirts…too much cellulite) without trying them on…size 6.
Then…I quit smoking.

So…I’m doing this diet for the 3rd time.
Three…
is a charm, right?
Or is that just for marriages?

Anyway…
The last few days have been rough.
A week…exactly.
Has been big donkey balls suckage.
Sick kids.
Cling-on.
Wants to crawl back where he came from, don’t leave the room Mommy or I may diiiiiiieeeeee!!
Yeah…
Diet. Sabotage.

Then…enter hubby.
So sweet.
He decided that he was bored.
And he decided our daughters were bored.
So…they baked Oatmeal Raisin cookies.
Shithead.
Because…with sick kids. That was already a bad, bad diet ruination.
But Oatmeal Raisin cookies…
That’s kicking me when I’m down.
SERIOUSLY.
That…is worse than NOT getting me a Valentines card.
That…is worse than forgetting to call me on my 35th birthday…and you’re mom had to call you and yell at you (back when she tolerated me)
That…
is undermining my efforts to skinnydom.

But HA!
I do have a savior.
In the name of a black and brown, 100 pound, her own vagina licking…
DOG!!
Luna.
How do I love thee.
Let me count the Oatmeal Raisin cookie crumbs…
all over the floor.
And the guilty gait with tail tucked…into your happy place corner.

Note to hubby…
Next time you make Oatmeal Raisin cookies…put them away.
Because…the dog. She’s tall. She can reach the kitchen counter.
Oh and…
you may want to take her on an extra LOOOOOONG walk later.
Oatmeal is very high in dietary fiber.

OK…
Just enter my giveaways…here for make up
and
here for an obnoxious and scary looking sex toy that comes with yummy sounding lubes.
K
THNXS
Off to eat some salad or something boring now.
XOXO