Leave Makes You Fat

16 days of leave.

16 days of pure, wholesome, fattening vacation.

These past five months have been a terrible time for me --> as far as weight is concerned.

I was doing so well. I was back to my post-boot camp weight. I was stronger and faster than I had been, meaning my weight was more muscle than fat. As far as health went, I felt great.

And then my legal issues (which gave me all the time I could ever want to work out) went away. My charges were dropped (because the Navy finally realized the accusations were made by a depressed, crazy girl looking for a way to get out of her own trouble) and I was back to living a normal life again. Which meant I had a lot of "normal living" to make up for after 6 months of near-prison-like conditions (re: thanks for making me fat, jury-of-my-peers).

Which meant I got myself a boyfriend, started drinking again, and ate out ALL THE TIME.

My new boyfriend demanded all of my free time. So, no gym time for me. Plus we ate out a lot (re: thanks for making me fat, tasteless-galley-food).

I gained 15 pounds.

After I left him, and Great Lakes, behind, I got back into a healthy-er-ish lifestyle. I started running again, and even went to command PT (twice). The pounds were finally beginning to shed. I was finally being able to see the less-chunky me again. I still hated my tummy-pooch and the way my arms scraped against my thighs when I walked, but I could feel the difference.

Smores dip. And wine.

Then I graduated C School and came home.

Well, there went all that hard work.

My mom is the kind of person who believes whole-heartedly in showing love through food. And no, not cooking the food, just feeding it. So, I found myself eating out every day again. And my mother is also the type of person who finds the main course to be a formality, rather than the meal. It's just the pathway that leads you from the appetizer to the dessert (with margaritas and moscato from beginning to end as well). Needless to say, those calories add up.

Exercising is also nearly impossible.

By 8 a.m. the desert heat has already been awake and had its coffee. It is energized and READY. TO. GO! It bounces off the asphalt and onto the windows and cheers for bad guy (I'm sure). So, when I walk outside, I am assaulted. It's like walking head-first into the oven after it has been preheating to 425 for the past hour, but you forgot about it, and then you're like, "Oh fuck! I have shit to bake!" so you open up the door and it just whooshes at you like it, too, thought it was too hot and is looking for a glass of water. That's Arizona for you (re: thanks for making me fat, run-on-sentences-that-don't-actually-burn-calories).

Even the dragons can't survive here (or whatever this is)

Then, of course, there were marathons of M.A.S.H. and several good books that demanded my time. Plus, my mother anticipated my arrival by buying me 2 cases of my favorite beer (that I can't get anywhere else) and I can't let them go to waste.

All that hard work gone. I can actually feel my fat multiply. Like rabbits. Only, I don't typically feel rabbits multiplying.

I tried making healthier choices on leave. I had 2 salads. Drank some water. Drank gallons of hot tea (Teavana is my new obsession. But I'll leave that for another post).  I did go running once (and then immediately regretted it as whatever devil food poisoning or flu I got decided to kick in 3/4 of a mile away from home [and it didn't even last long enough to be considered a colon cleanse]).

I think I've decided that I should never go on leave again. I lack the willpower. The military was supposed to ingrain willpower into me.

You failed me, Navy.

You.

Failed.

Me.

So this is really your fault. Thanks for making me fat, Navy.




PS: Don't fire me. I don't actually blame you. Love you. K. Bye.