1,000 Cupcakes, 1,000 Crunches

I have a plan!

As is the case with most of my brilliant plans it involves carbs, unrealistic expectations and a costume!

I have a plan!

Okay, so here’s the deal: I need to get back into shape for Halloween. Because I’m going either as the Old Spice Guy or Craigery Morgan (that lip-synching viral superstar). The common denominator: shirtlessness.
The problem is I’ve let myself go a little bit over the past few weeks. Nothing crazy. I mean, I got a call from Celebrity Fit Club, but I politely declined. (And by “politely declined” I mean, screamed “Go eff yourself, Screech!” and threw my phone across the room.) I haven’t gone up a size, but my six-pack seems to be hiding behind roughly 76 oatmeal cookies, 112 Tastycakes (THEY ARE ALWAYS ON SALE!), 60 muffins of various flavors, and two slices of pizza. What? I was hungry yesterday.

So, I have got to get back to the gym.  Like today.  Like right now. I just got a little busy with life and such.  And maybe I got distracted a bit.  But I mean, seriously guys, have you seen the Internet?!  It is full of great stuff.  Fantastic stuff!  I have spent literally nine hours watching videos of people harmonizing with themselves on YouTube.  Amazing!  This is what the founding fathers meant when they talked about “the pursuit of happiness.”

These videos are everywhere.  I’ve managed to watch 200 different people harmonize with themselves.  190 of them were singing "Teenage Dream" which, I have to say it, I’m a bit over, but it was amazing nonetheless.

Another thing I’m over: not having a six-pack.  I had one a few weeks ago.  I had no idea you could just suddenly unhave one.  I thought six-packs were like tattoos or herpes.  Once you get them there’s no getting rid of them (and unsavory women will be drawn to you at sketchy bars and rest stops).  Unfortunately, this is the Week of 1,000 Cupcakes. 

What is the Week of 1,000 Cupcakes?  I’m glad you asked!  So, I’m co-hosting this party on Friday and I’ve decided to provide desserts.  There are going to be about 200 people at this party and I’m estimating that each person will eat around 3 to 4 cupcakes (because I am a terrible estimator and possibly a food hoarder), so I need roughly 800 cupcakes.  Unfortunately, whenever I make cupcakes my roommate and I usually eat roughly 20% of them before they’ve even cooled.  Who am I kidding?  We usually eat them directly out of the oven, like reaching in the door, burning our arms, scooping up half-baked cupcakes like zombies going to town on some brains.   So, I’m baking 1,000 cupcakes so that we can eat all we want.  Which is WHY I NEED TO GO TO THE GYM.

I’ve never been a gym person.  I’ve always wanted to be a gym person but… y’know, the Internet.  I’ve joined 4 different gyms over the past 10 years and prior to that time I went fitness crazy last year I had only gone to the gym about 16 times.

I need to go to the gym!  Because of my plan!  And I need to go more than 16 times.  I’m getting old, y’all, my body doesn’t spring back the way it used to.  Old.  I say things like “Kids these days.” I harrumph.  I only read large print books.  I can’t figure out texting.  I hit Reply All.  I go, “Oh, lordy,” when I kneel down.  I don’t run.  For anything.  If I was being chased by a psycho killer I’d probably just pop my hand on my hip, pull down my bifocals and raise one eyebrow like, “You better get on out of here with that nonsense.”  I’m feeling like it’s not too late, though.  I’ve managed to convince myself that physical activity of some sort will keep me feeling young.  It certainly does when I’m dancing.  So, I figure, the fitter I am, the more I’ll dance, the more I dance, the younger I’ll feel, the younger I feel, the more I’ll work out, the more I work out the less likely I’ll be killed by a psycho killer.

So... Oh!, my plan. My plan is to go to the gym, yes, but while there to do 1,000 crunches over the course of this week.  It should only take 200 crunches per day. I have plenty of time for that.

Who am I kidding?  I have never had the time for 200 crunches in any day.  And I never will.  Doing 200 crunches also requires like 6 hours of mental coaxing plus an hour of crying and then the 30 minutes or so that the actual crunches take.  I don’t have that kind of time.

Shaving only takes 7 minutes and I only manage that on Christmas and Easter.  Okay, well, Easter. Here is a partial list of things that I do not have time for: shaving, laundry, cleaning my bedroom, world peace, painting the living room, returning your phone call, this blog.  Oh, taking out the trash.  Seriously, I just throw it out the window and go back to baking. 

So, speaking of food, I read that the Old Spice guy only eats like seeds and mango juice or something ridiculous.  I have no interest in that.  I am not trying to change my life in order to look hot.  I am willing to do absolutely anything to be more attractive except change my life or inconvenience myself in any way.

This new plan comes after completely failing at my first plan: getting on The Biggest Loser.  I’ve been very, very committed to this plan for quite a while now.  My reasoning--both sound and brilliant--is thus: morbidly obese people go on The Biggest Loser, get yelled at by Jillian for about 6 weeks, sweat, fart, cry and all the other things you do on vacation, and then suddenly they’re hot.  They’re never not hot.  It doesn’t even matter what they looked like before.  They all suddenly find great hair stylists to go to and smile more and they’ve got great bodies and they’re lives are perfect.  I said to myself, I said, “You’re moderately attractive now.  Just imagine how hot you’d be if you gained 250 pounds, then lost it on national television.”  There is no way this plan wouldn’t work.  There’s only one hitch: I can’t seem to gain 250 pounds.  I figured I would just reverse diet.  Like, if you’re dieting you’re supposed to cut out alcohol and red meat and not eat after 7 pm.  So for the last 5 years I’ve been drinking everything in sight and I only eat after 7 pm.  Somehow, this resulted in me not gaining any weight, but actually looking like an emaciated drunk.  The producers of that show Intervention used to call me three times a week.  (Well, it's either them or my parents.)  I do not want to be on Intervention.  Those people rarely win $50,000.

Anyway, I have to go. I have a lot to do. Because of, y’know, the Internet. Oh! I mean, the plan. Yes, the plan. The cupcakes. The crunches. The hotness. The crying.

Note: portions of this entry were revised from this other entry from two years ago. Just sayin'.

1 comment:

  1. Ok, first I vote the Old Spice Guy.

    I was in Walmart the other day (eyes roll). They have those new digital tv ads at the end caps of aisles. And I heard him, the Old Spice Guy and he was in the middle of "look at me, look at him, now back to me..." and it made me smile on the inside b/c of how much I love that commercial and how much America loves it and by God it's the simple stuff that helps me hang on another day. I'm a silly that way.

    AND, “You better get on out of here with that nonsense.” TOTALLY works on psycho killers so good choice to pick :)