Mom Sauvignon

I can feel for this dog. This looks like my food diary entries for the past couple of days.

First of all, props to anyone who can tell me where my title came from!

I can now officially feel sorry for those people that I used to judge for not taking their medicine. I would hear about crazy people who stopped taking their pills and then went off the deep end, and I would think, “Why would you NOT take your medicine if you KNOW you are crazy?”  Well, I am crazy and stopped taking my happy pills, and as a result I got really sad and I couldn’t stop eating junk food and taking naps.  Thankfully my turn to the dark side only involved getting fat and lazy and subsequent self loathing, and I am not hurting anyone else.  Unless you include making my kids cry by yelling at them. 

I ran out of my Prozac and kept procrastinating on getting a refill.  In my defense, normally I am normal and ok. My problem comes each month around “that time”.  I have PMDD (Premenstrual dysphoric disorder ) also known as “Your hormones will make you go bat shit crazy and cause you to scream at the ones you love, feel a sense of impending doom even though there is really nothing wrong, and eat and sleep and then hate yourself.” That is the medical term. 

So I went along without taking my daily dose of my anti-depressant and things were fine.  And then BAM, just like that, the dark cloud came.  I found myself with a short fuse and no patience for anyone or anything.  I found myself not wanting to get out of bed in the morning and then thinking all day long about when I could get home and get back into bed.  And then I started making trips to Target to buy Easter candy.  I sat in my car yesterday and ate 5 Cadbury eggs and an entire movie size box of Sour Patch Kids.  I knew I had hit rock bottom, so I decided to go back into Target and ask the  pharmacist for help.  I told him that my prescription was at Walgreens, but I really needed my medicine before I purchased and consumed more chocolate and asked him to help me. The first step is admitting you have a problem and asking for help.   My family and my waist line will be eternally indebted to Jeff, the friendly Target pharmacist who rose to the occasion and got me my meds.

So now I have 40 mg of Fluoxetine coursing through my veins.  Everything is going to be ok. 

Wait, I don’t think it is actually coursing through my veins.  That makes it sounds like I crunched up my pill and injected it into my arm with a needle.  I didn’t do that.  I just swallowed it with some water.  Ok, maybe it wasn’t water.  It was diet coke.  But at least I didn’t take it with a glass of wine.

I think it is funny that the front of my website says, “Event: Me in a Bikini.  I did it:  Passed.”  It has definitely passed.

And I definitely didn’t do it.

Months ago I put up a countdown stating that I would post a picture of myself in a bikini on Thanksgiving Day.  I did this as a motivational tool to make myself lose some pounds and get super buff and hot.

I procrastinated.

I procrastinated more.

And more.

As a last ditch effort, I begged my very naturalistic doctor who bitches at me for drinking caffeine to prescribe me appetite suppressants.  She suggested that I try eating healthy and exercising.

I implored her to just give me the drugs.

I wore her down.

I took the drugs for a week and was very hyper and didn’t eat much of anything.

I quit taking them on day 8 because I was tired of not being hungry and I wanted to go out for Mexican food and margaritas.

I ate lots of nachos and had lots of margaritas.

Repeat.

Repeat.

I went shopping for some new pants and had to buy a size up.

Dammit.  Dammit.  Dammit.

Maybe I should start a new countdown.

On New Year’s Day I vow to post a picture of myself laying on the couch taking a nap as a result of having lots of super duper fun the night before and getting rested up to kick ass in 2012!