Where, Oh Where Has My Little Dog Gone?

Here's the update on the diet: I've lost 13.5 pounds in one week. My initial reaction is to jump for joy (but I think I need to get another 40 off before I put that kind of stress on the foundation of my house), but then I think that maybe that's too much weight to lose in only seven days. Will it stay off? Will my body go into the dreaded self-preservation mode and stop metabolizing what I do eat? Stay tuned. At any rate, I've had some success and feel good about that.

Now, the real meat of today's blog. I may have lost so much weight because I've been crying for days. My little dog Pippin went missing on Tuesday and I am quickly approaching crazy woman status. I just got off the phone with a pet psychic who told me that she ate something that made her sick and she's hovering near a commercial area. The psychic asked her to wag her tail and didn't get a response. So now I'm sitting here in my office, 30 miles from my home, thinking about my beloved baby sprawled out behind a Safeway, unable to get up and come home.

My nerves are shot. My stomach is sick. I hardly sleep. I've smoked two packs of cigarettes since Tuesday. But I haven't made even one misstep on my diet. Believe me, the gin bottle is calling. Shrieking, in fact. But I don't want to fuck up my diet. I also don't want to be drunk as I drive all over Denver looking for my dog. But let me tell you something. I pass Sonic every day on my way to and from work (two Sonics, in fact) and I haven't stopped yet. And if you've ever tasted a Sonic cheeseburger with mayo and a side of tater tots smothered in salt, you will appreciate what a Herculean feat this is.

Before I leave you, let me get on my soapbox for just a minute: if you ever find an animal, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE take it to an animal shelter or call animal control and let them know. Please don't keep the animal because you're afraid that it'll be euthanized if you take it to the shelter. If you want the animal, all you have to do is tell the shelter that you want it after the appropriate amount of time for the owner to make contact is past. If you don't want the animal, then the shelter is the best place for it so people who might want it can see it. And most areas -- and most certainly Denver -- have no-kill organizations that will not euthanize an adoptable animal.

But most of all, MOST OF ALL, the shelter is the place the owner will be looking for the animal. I spoke with a woman this morning who thought she might have my dog, and I got in touch with her through the most ridiculously circuitous route. We determined that the dog she had was not Pippin, and I begged her to take it to a shelter. She doesn't want the dog to be euthanized, but she doesn't want the dog, either. So what the fuck does she propose to do with the dog? TAKE THE FUCKING DOG TO A SHELTER SO ITS OWNER CAN FIND IT. I only got in touch with her because a sister of a friend got a random mass email from this woman saying she had found a dog. Otherwise, I would probably never have known. Christ, this makes me so motherfucking angry I can barely speak (type).

Well, that was quite a workout. Maybe I've hit an even 14 pounds by now?

Where Has All the Anger Gone?

I know you've all been sitting by your computers, eagerly anticipating the description of the first day of the big diet. Well, all those clicks on the refresh button have finally paid off because here it is: I feel fucking fantastic!

I chose to start the diet on Monday, knowing that it was a vacation day from work, so I could curl up in bed with a dog and a DVD if the cravings became too much for me. Instead, I walked for two hours at Cherry Creek State Park and raked leaves, and really didn't give too much thought to how much I was or wasn't eating.

I know, I know, this diet is in diapers and I have a LONG way to go, but I have to say that I'm feeling very optimistic at the moment. Day 2 is 3/4 over, and I still feel great. I'm so glad to have this blog going so that when Day 16 rolls along, I'll have a vehicle to pour out my anger, bile and resentment at being allotted a thimbleful of chicken soup with a raw broccoli chaser.

Don't worry you lovers of Schadenfreude, my rants are sure to be back soon!

Sparkling New Feature

I've had quite a few thoughts about this blog since publishing the mind-bogglingly entertaining first post:

1. I've decided to introduce a sort of Jenn-o-meter, so you can get an idea of how I'm feeling just by looking at the title of my blog. By telling you which famous or possibly not-so-famous personality, character, etc. is "in da House" for each post, you'll be able to gauge how I'm feeling about my weight loss journey. For example, today Mama Grape is in da House, ensuring that the blog will be full of vitriole, profanity, self-doubt and generally negative statements. On the other side of the coin, when Kate Moss is in da House you should use the post as story-time fodder for your small children, because you can bet your sweet fanny it'll be full of sunshine and kittens.

2. I would like to find a way to have a height goal instead of a weight goal. I mean, if I were 6'6", I'd be perfectly proportionate. If the diet industry can crack this one, I'll be the first to invest.

3. I'm quite pleased with the comments on my first post, and am very grateful for all the encouragement. I did have one comment from a lovely gent who wants me not to beat myself up. David, I adore you for posting this. I'm afraid, however, that beat myself up I shall, until I am able to put this demon back in its box. I can absolutely assure you that I do not hate myself -- I just hate the behaviors I've indulged in. If I hated myself, I most certainly would not be dropping this kind of cash on yet another weight loss program. I just want to hit the back nine of my life with improved health. A smoking hot pair of tits would be nice, too.

This brings me to the program. The supplies have arrived, and now the big question is "do I start right away, or do I wait for Monday?" Monday is the day I'd like to weigh in, because there's a psychological edge to entering the dangerous weekend period knowing your fat ass has to get on a scale on Monday. BUT, and this is a big but(t), if I wait until Monday, God alone knows what sort of garbage I'll throw down my gullet over the next few days. I could start my diet up 5 lbs. from where I was when I decided to go on a diet in the first place! Dear readers, I look to you for guidance.

Humble Beginnings

Hi, my name is Jenn and I'm a big, fat fuck. In the coming months, I'll be fighting the good fight, hoping to beat my weight problem down like an unruly child. I've created this blog so you can all keep tabs on my progress. The way I see it, you were all with me when I put the weight on, so you're all coming along for the ride now that it's time to shed 75 lbs. of pure, unadulterated shame.

That's it for the quick intro. The diet starts as soon as the supplies arrive. Who thought in this country we'd ever have to wait for a food drop?

Oh yeah -- Happy Fucking Valentine's Day.