I Wish Someone Would Do Something About How Fat I Am*

Okay, a few days ago I wrote a platitude-laden blog about how my current weight-loss plateau has helped me to re-evaluate my definition of weight-loss success. Desperation has since caused me to re-re-evaluate the situation and deem that seemingly noble sentiment complete and utter bullshit. Because after 21+ days, all I* DO* care about right now is the fact that my scale appears to be a capricious asshole who takes delight in taunting me with my non-progress.

As I’ve previously asserted, I am truly a scientist at heart (admittedly though, less of an Albert Einstein and more of an L. Ron Hubbard), and as such, have taken pains to thoroughly research possible solutions to this crisis (read: I’ve Googled the term “weight-loss plateau” incessantly over the past few weeks). The challenge is, every website says the same thing – Increase your caloric intake. Increase your activity level. Decrease your reliance on the scale as an indicator of success. All of which I’ve done. And, still…. NOTHING! I am just as scale-disadvantaged as I was a fortnight and a half ago!

While I’ve tried to appease myself with alternative metrics (like the fact that my once aspirational “skinny pants” are now loose on me, or that I’m able to work out for incredibly long periods without tiring), I can’t help but feel that it’s utter bullshit. Because my goal when I started wasn’t “Be able to wear outdated pants that reek of mothballs and desperation” or “Ellipticate (It’s a word. Look it up. Make sure you use my dictionary) ad nauseam, ad infinitum.” My goal was to have a kick-ass body like Britney’s. You know, before the babies. But even that b*tch is on the front page of OK! touting her rapid weight-loss success, proving that even an overexposed underdeveloped tartlet who is an epic FAIL at almost everything not involving hip gyrations or pedophiliac allusions can do it. And now my resolve is fading faster than Rick Ross’s street cred (Although kudos to him on the perfect attendance reward. It has to be hard to prison guard every night when everyday you’re hustling).

So I implore you dear reader, what can I do to bust out of this dreaded plateau? Eating disorders are out of question. After all, I want to lose weight, not end up being played by Raven Symoné (I know, I questioned the casting decision too) in a Lifetime Movie of the Week. Similarly, celebrity diets are also not going to work because I a) Don’t have a gazillion dollars to “invest” in my ass and b) if I did, I would probably just buy Eva Mendez and make her impersonate me (What?!?! I saw her in the clearance aisle at Costco, so I just assumed). So please post your helpful suggestions in Comments. All mean/snarky comments can be directed to your mother’s answering machine, because she’s probably the reason you’re so bitter anyway.

*Yes, I steal content. But I make it better by properly inserting it into topic, no?

PHOTO: If you're going to cast someone as me in a movie, may I make a humble suggestion? Because this is the exact face I make every morning when pondering breakfast selections. Or why it is that black face is still so taboo.