The one where Blake has another existential crisis.

They say that when the seasons change you as a person change as well. I believe this statement to be generally true however I would apply it to the decades you go through as your age. First comes the rough and tumble teenage years where you hide away all those essential parts of your personality that makes you an individual in order to “fit in”. After being thrust forward in life to your twenties where you will spend the first half exploring who you are in the world, releasing those hidden traits and finding that it is exhausting trying to fit in to such a little square peg. So you make yourself a posse of friends from various backgrounds, and you start staying up late, making adventures, falling in deep love for the first time, and then the late part of your twenties hit. The holy shit where am I going with my life, this is what I got my degree in but I’m not happy, where do I want to work? Suddenly people are getting married because they want to not cause they have to. All the sudden the wild child is married and has two kids and no one freaks out.

Oh then you turn thirty and this is the age where you learn all the lessons from the mistakes and adventures you had in your twenties. I call it the Look at me I’ve reproduced, bought a house, ran a marathon, gotten divorced, and am fighting to get noticed in my job stage. Oh. Suddenly the I needs to show up in your dreams. I need to save for retirement, I need to travel, I need to spend more time with XYZ before they are gone, and I need to lose weight shows up. So the question lies when do you start feeling confident in your life?  Is this a product of the society that we are a part of?

Last week I was sitting in church having gotten a walk around from the single’s ward. Let me explain. When you turn thirty one they kick you out of the single’s ward sending you a letter stating basically you have two options. A. Go to the mid-level there’s a reason why you aren’t married single ward, or you can return back to the family ward where hopefully someone has a fat sister they can pawn off on you. All the sudden you’re married friends say this lovely sentence I have the perfect person for you to go out with BUT something. Usually the BUT is something that is something you can’t ignore. He has a great personality BUT he has constant gas and sounds like a car that backfires every five seconds. They mean well. Because your married friends don’t like being just the two of them since they have decided to swear lifelong fidelity to each other they need someone else to date. Otherwise they are forced to deal with each other. No they aren’t looking to add someone else this isn’t Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice. So you endure these blind dates, these I mean well set ups because well there’s only so many times you can flick through the Netflix queue and realize you are wearing the I give up sweats and eating a pint of ice cream. *I only know this for the sake of research or as I like to call it every Saturday night*

I’m trying to figure out how do you deal with the boredom of your thirties? You aren’t broke poor like your twenties, you are still saddled with a great load of debt from your free loving twenties (by free loving I mean those lovely student loans) and the idea of staying in hostel no longer sounds romantic but rather dirty and gross. You may be poor but you’ve upgraded to a better mattress and you clean your sheets every week now why would you want to sleep on sheets left on a bed from the Nixon administration? Plus staying up past ten at night deserves an award. Basically if you can get me out of my house past 9 there better be ice cream or fried foods available. 

So what I’m trying to ask is how do you capture the essence of your twenties in your thirties?  With earlier curfews of course.  Is your thirties your last shot on doing those dreams you told yourself that you would do in your twenties? 

The One Where Blake Goes to a Wedding

Whoo. Ever want to feel old? Watch the youngest sibling get married. It was a beautiful wedding, reception, dinner and such. Yet in my mind when I looked at my little brother I saw the little boy who wore camo everywhere and dressed as James Bond for Halloween. Every year was a different animal to hunt the cutest being two ducks. The hard moments of watching him navigate the tumultuous journey that is middle school and high school. Waiting each Monday for the weekly email to come while he was on his mission.

It goes so quickly how fast they grow up. One minute they are this thing that you can’t stand and the next moment they meet someone and you see them falling in free fall in love and suddenly they become like a MGM musical. Their feet don’t seem to touch the floor. At first when Hunter introduced Ashley to our family I realized from the moment that she was something special to Hunter. It doesn’t take long to you to realize how lucky you are to gain another sister.

So it’s wonderful.

It’s marvelous.

That they could find each other and found love and I wish nothing but the best for them.  Cause in this day and age we need more love stories and less stories of people falling apart. The moment I fell apart is when they were doing that little awkward first married dance as a couple and I hope that they will always look at each other the way they looked at each other in that moment.  How time seemed to speed up and slow down it’s a look I’ve seen in brief moments when my mother found my step father. The moment my sister married my brother in law. The moment I saw Thea. The last time I saw my Grandma look at my Grandpa before she cut the strings and freed herself from her physical body. It’s that look that says in the best way you will be the death and life of me.

It’s the look that says I’ll never let you go and that I’ll be right beside you. That feeling when you fall back and you let go and that person catches you. I’m grateful that in this moment there is a little bit more of love and joy than sadness and hatred in this world.

So to Hunter and Ashley on their wedding day I wish them nothing but love and joy. 

The One where Blake Goes to a Rehearsal Dinner

It finally happened. That magical day when both my siblings have changed their tax statues and have left me as the last single child. Lucky me. Last night was the rehearsal dinner/ family meet and greet, basically the last chance for the bride to decide if she really wants to be joined in holy matrimony not only to the prince of the family but to the rest of us as well.  The dinner was beautiful, the church house was wonderfully decorated, and everyone got along great. However since I am the most awkward person you will ever meet at a party I was proud of myself for not saying “MOVE YOUR BLOOMING ARSE!” during the whole event. However here are some reject answers to those invariable questions about my life that I thought y’all would enjoy. 

On Being Single:

“I just haven’t found the right person in the tax bracket that I aspire to.”

“I really just want to focus on my art and career right now.” 

“The other personalities just don’t think it’s time to introduce a new person to the mix.” 

“The other wives are against it”. 

“My life partner Mark/Rick/Steve (points on catching the Steel Magnolia reference) wouldn’t approve”. 

“I’ve seen what happens after the age of forty. Am now seeking therapy to deal with the horror.”

On My Job:

“I was a stripper until I got too fat for it”. 

“Are you sure you want to know? I work in Mammography. You know cranky old lady boobs.”

“Why no I wasn’t aware that your son was involved in the latest pyramid scheme coming from Utah Valley. I’m so interested tell me more.” 

On Exercising:

“Why no I didn’t know rubbing essential oils will break up the fat. Tell me more about this”. 

“Eating is my sport”. 

“ My sister is the Ironman. I just eat the sympathy carbs”. 

Lastly Why no this isn’t going into my blog. 

The One Where Blake Wants a Doughnut

Today is the eleventh day out of the 146 out of this challenge to myself. Or as I like to call it the day that the doughnut craving kicks in. I just want a doughnut so freaking bad that it’s not even funny. I woke up and the conversation in my head went something like this:

Me: Oh yay. It’s Thursday. I’m up.

Festus: ME WANT DOUGHNUT.

Me: Festus we don’t eat doughnuts anymore. While they are magically delicious with their white glaze and the artfully placed sprinkles it will just bring around the feeling of guilt and bloated.

Festus: ME WANT DOUGHNUT! LOVE BLOATED.

Me: UGH. You don’t love bloated. Bloated makes not fit into shirts and have to wear the muumuu to work. (The muumuu is a shirt I had to buy when I was so fat I couldn’t wear any other clothes.) We don’t like the muumuu. Look let’s enjoy this lovely cup of herbal tea. You like tea remember?

Festus: Me. DON’T. WANT. TEA! ME WANT DOUGHNUT!

It’s been a non-stop party going on here. While I’m fighting that little fat bastard (aka the Festus) I’m proud of myself for not going to Krispy Kreme and ordering all the doughnuts just because I have all the feels. I’m realizing that this doughnut craving is nothing more than just that a craving of stress. I know that I would eat the doughnut. Feel guilty and not really enjoy it. It’s not as magical as my sugar craving brain would have me believe. It’s just too bad that broccoli doesn’t take like a doughnut. It will pass and I’ll be able to squeeze myself into a suit tomorrow for the blessed event. (AKA the wedding.) Let us pray the Spanx hold out. Two layers. I’ll be sweating bullets but the Festus will be looking like he’s under control!

Festus: FESTUS WANTS DOUGHNUT! SEND DOUGHNUTS TO THE FESTUS!

FESTUS NO!

This is how the rest of the day is going to go. Hope you have a great day! 

The One Where Blake Lays Some Ground Rules

So I realize that this is kinda a fitness blog/baby book for Festus. However I wanted to clarify what my goals are in writing this. I have to write this down so I don’t find myself becoming a stereotype. Cause I’m a special snowflake.

The things I promise not to do:

1. Write inspirational post on generic fitness health information. Y’all have Google or better yet Pinterest. I don’t have a degree or medical training in weight loss. All I have is five years of fatness and a really nice trainer. I hate that kind of post.   You know what I’m talking about the thin girl who’s never been fat in her life telling me what to do? No thanks. Go eat a pint of ice cream, sit on the couch and be quiet. Those "5" pounds you want to lose is what keeps you visable. Lose it and when you turn sideways Poof! No more you. 

2. Lift my shirt up and take pictures of the FESTUS. It’s better for everyone involved.

3.  Grunt loudly at the gym. So awkward. One time I was lifting my little 15 pound weight and this thing ( I call him a thing cause he was like the Hulk and a Koompa. Fake tan and big muscles) starts grunting and moaning as he was lifting weights. Most. Awkward. Moment. Ever.

4. Food Prep pictures.  You don’t want to see my Tupperware. Hell I don’t even want to see my Tupper ware. FYI I’m avoiding the whole look I made week’s worth’s of chicken and rice pictures.  You will never see my food scale unless I’m tossing it out the window.

5. I’m not doing cross fit. There will be no talking about boxes, snatches, weezes, lunge ups, gross pictures of my palms or preaching the cross-fit gospel. Or somehow working it into a conversation. Last week at lunch we were having an I depth discussion on who was better Debbie Gibson or Tiffany. (Team Tiffany all the way.) granted this wasn't my usual lunch group when out of no where the crossfiter was able to sneak it into the discussion and how it related to her crossfit family. I was nice and didn't say anything but in my head I went you just wanted to talk about crossfit. Please don't hurt me crossfiters as I am fat and pudgy. I admire your love for doughnuts. 

6.  I’m dressed to workout selfie/I’m working out/ Post workout Selfie. I’ll describe them in three words. Gross, grosser, and the grossiest. (Yes I know that’s not a real word however I did use it to win scrabble one triple word score so win for me!).  Yesterday when I was dying on the treadmill the gentleman next to me pulls out his camera does a duck face and then posted it on Instagram. All I could think of is really? Now is the perfect time for a duck face? (FYI? It’s never a good time for a duck face.)

7. There will be no guilt inducing, shame based posting going on here. I made myself fat. Now I’m trying to make myself less fat. It’s simple as that. This is MY journey. I only ask that you hold me accountable to my choices. I have issues when I’m on Instagram and I see the fitspiration post on 3pm on a Tuesday with the script over the picture “no excuses”. That’s great I’m proud of you for going. Way to go fat hand clap. This is my journey and I’m inviting you along. There will be no humble bragging kind of post. They type that starts with “I wake up at five and run ten miles and then get up to make breakfast for my kids”. Look I’m just happy if I put on shoes that match each other. Plus can we stop the shaming? Please? I get so annoyed when I open up Instagram in bed and half of the Insta population is out running marathons with the #no shame# running in the rain# no excuses.  I’m guilty of this but I’m trying to stop!

8.  There will be no shake promoting. Taste nasty. Give me real food.

9. Pretend that I have my life in order.  When I post a good recipe or pretty food just know that my kitchen will probably look like the great chocolate chili disaster of 2014. Tomato sauce. EVERYWHERE. In my hair, on the ceiling, on the floor and I lost a good shirt that day. 

The One Where Blake Goes to the Gym

Eight days ago I posted a picture of the virtual contract that I wanted to hold myself to. I’ve been doing some studying lately on habits, weight loss, and change. I’ve been really nervous about holding the magnifying glass up to myself and seeing all my faults and the things I’ve been avoiding. To put it differently this is how I feel about cleaning my bathroom. I absolutely dread it. I let it fester. It sits on the back on my mind of something that I have to do. I put so much energy on it that by the time I actually get to doing it I’m exhausted and I haven’t started. Meanwhile new life is growing in the shower. It’s not that gross I promise but that’s how it feels. Yet when I do it I realize it’s only a brief hour to clean my bathroom from top to finish and it never is as awful as I thought it was going to be. That’s how I feel about starting a new exercise plan, eating plan, etc. but after the shiny-whoo I’m doing something new feeling wears off it takes on the level of dread that I feel about cleaning my bathroom.  It becomes even more WORK or another thing I have to do.

So after completing my fourth whole 30 I sat down to Festus Baby book (aka my weight loss journal. Festus is the name of my food baby. Cause when the Princess was pregnant I looked more pregnant than she did.) And I wrote to myself what do I NEED?  The word came back clearly. Play. Rest. Learning. This last year really did a number on me. If I could describe 2014 I would describe it as the year from HELL. I got slammed hard by life. It was as if the year said Yeah you want a piece of me well yeah let’s see how you handle this! BWAHAHAH. Or as I call it with great affection the year where KARMA kicked me in the ass. Since my new year is starting next month (I believe your new year starts on your birthday month not January) I sat down and wrote down the manifesto. Now here comes the plan.

I needed to be more Martha Stewart and less Oprah. See Martha is the type that gives you the plan on how to de-clutter your life and breaks down her recipes so that even me the person who almost lost an eyebrow can do it. Seriously. Google her buttercream cupcake frosting. It’s amazing.  I love Oprah I love her positive statements but she’s more of the type to tell you to say the statement and then not follow through. Martha on the other hand? She’s been in prison. She’s going to hold you to it.

So here’s what I’m doing now. Last October I joined Snap Fitness because I was on fire with the whole 30 and I thought okay cheap gym, small place no one will go, and I can slowly work on getting rid of the Festus. Added bonus I got six free training sessions and the trainer who set me up for my membership seemed to click with me. Ha. The gym was over crowded, further than I thought, and while I loved the trainer dearly it was when I told her what I needed and she promptly ignored me and we spent a half an hour of our training session on the elliptical just doing the random sections that I went oh no. This is not what I needed. So we broke up. Both the gym and the trainer.

Sometimes what you think you need is often different from what you need. So I joined Anytime Fitness, started with a trainer who has worked with people who have shown amazing success and I give myself an hour. So here’s the plan so far. I’m counting my macros nutrients (42 carb 25 protein 7 fat) which when he introduced the concept I about cried. Changing food and math?  I hate the math. Math and I broke up in 2009. And we are NEVER. EVER. GETTING BACK TOGETHER. Like ever. However in this modern culture there’s thing called the APP store. I found the highest recommended Macro counter APP and so far it’s been working.

Second he studied  my current body state and really wanted to focus on the goals that I had. So well here we are. It’s been a tricky start since he’s currently in Hawaii, we have a blessed event (aka the Prince’s wedding) and then I’m going on an adventure. Yet I’m working on not taking on more than I can chew. The whole 30 removed a lot of my bad romance with food. I have to work harder on my choices yet if I choose something that’s a little more sinful I don’t label it a cheat, a mistake, or a bad decision.  I merely move on and tell myself this must be something I needed. I read food labels. I avoid sugar as much as I can and I eat natural food that isn’t processed. I spend a lot of time in the kitchen but I like it.

The plan is I’m doing this till I go to KONA in October so in 139 days I hope to have lost most of the Festus.

It’s a good way to spend a summer don’t you think?

The One Where Blake Writes a Manifesto

It’s been that kind of weekend where I’ve hidden bed long enough. I’ve written enough pages of woe that I could see them turning them into chains chaining me to the pillars of self-doubt and the belief that I’m never going to be free to live the life that I want. So I wrote this sentence and I posted it on my fridge “I’m going to be Free and I’m going to be fine” and I decided to take back the freedom that my depression had taken from me. The freedom that I’m allowed to love myself. In a moment of defiance I threw open all my windows, and I turned up my music and I could hear the bells from the Lutheran church and I didn’t know I was a dancer but I started dancing in the day light. I made a paper pillar with all the list of myself hatred and lies that I believed about myself. Then I tore it down and made a big mess and I danced upon them and I knew in that moment that I could be free. Free from the doubt free from the hatred that I allowed myself to believe about myself, and I became a believer of myself I know I’ll fall down but I’m not carrying around these chains of problems.

So join me in this moment of defiance and tell your self-doubt, your hatred, your fear, your shame that you no longer give them power and open yourself one stitch at a time and allow the sunlight of love enter your soul. I’m allowed this freedom and so are you. Let’s stop giving our shame the ability to hold our mouths shut and tell our stories. Let those scars know that they made you stronger not weaker. It’s a different kind of danger but can you hear your bells of freedom ringing out and shake off the chains that claim your feet and dance on your problems. Then leave and go move out in the daylight. Cause the truth of the manner you deserve to have freedom from your problems, you deserve that you are going to be fine. You don’t have to be the best dancer but life is too short to hold up those pillars of doubt when you could build up pillars that you are worthy of love, life and belonging.

It takes courage to live this life. It takes faith that you are going to be fine. When you finally announce to the universe that you are ready to live this life it’s amazing how fast our Heavenly Father moves in and fills your life with the things that you didn’t know you needed. I’m not saying that you aren’t going to experience hard times its part of the deal when we agreed to this life but you know what? We also agreed to live this life to the fullest. In the light of my St. Jude candle (patron saint of Lost Causes) I know that while some things may not have the answer and haven’t been resolved in the way I wanted or answered true faith is the belief in the unknown but nothing that I will receive the understanding one day.

Yeah so just had to share that AH-a, wow, my life has changed in this moment cause I’ve declared my freedom will you?

Tell me how you plan on changing. Cause we are going to be free and we are going fine.

The One Where Blake Gets a Hair Cut

Its day two and surprisingly I haven’t had a diva moment. It’s taking a minute to wrap my head around the fact that gluten may not be evil and legumes won’t make me cry. I just wanted to scream to everybody today that I was trying something new (I’m avoiding the word diet) and I’m sorry if I come across as a jerk. So to the random lady that I pointed to the wrong office I’m really sorry because I was really hungry and I had my LARAbar unwrapped and about to pop it in my mouth when you walked on by asking where Dr. so and so was and even though his name was in huge letters. I’m sorry. It’s not you it’s me.

It’s hard sometimes.

I got my hair cut today. It looks somewhat better. One of my chins is becoming more visible. I’m ready for something new so I view these next 145 days as a transformation process. What’s funny is whenever I get my hair cut I always look at the mirror hoping that I’ll see some magical progress where I’m 20 pounds thinner. It hasn't happened yet but I’m hopeful. What’s hard about getting your hair cut is that after you get it styled just so you want to snap as many selfies as possible because it’s the last time your hair is going to actually look that good till you go back in 6-8 weeks.

Last time I got it cut for a blessed event I ended up looking like a fat Dorothy Hamill. If I was ever in those whose hair is this segment in US magazine you would be like is that Dorothy Hammill? Wait no cause she only has one chin…

Yeah.

I could do better than that but it’s late and I’m tired.

I have to go put on my curlers and cold cream and try to go out and get some sleep.

The One Where I Wish I Knew How to Quit You.

I should be skinny by now. It’s been six years four whole 30s and a post fat Oprah Dr. Oz is on to you world. So why my fat do pants look like maternity pants? It would be nice to enter a room as the same time as my stomach.  So after this last whole 30 I realized I missed an important aspect (I read the book It Starts with Food) but I must have glazed passed the chapter where it empathized that this is to analyze your relationship to food not be a permeant fix so going through my whole 30 journal I realized that I finally got why I had such a I hate you I love you don’t leave me relationship with dairy and gluten. It was the emotional factor. See while I had gone on and on about how food was my emotional crutch I never took a step back to analyze when I removed the food out of my system how I felt, how my sleep was, and most importantly how those craving died. When I stopped following the Whole 30 principles all the sudden I was back on my corner begging for one more hit of Jamocha Almond fudge, one more sip of a Coco-Cola and a big box of movie popcorn. Yet every time I’ve finished a whole 30 and embraced these foods they never make me happy and they are never as fabulous or wonderful as I’ve made them out to be in my head. So I asked my Buddhist Nun/ therapist why my relationship was so screwed up. In her calm way she simply said “I don’t know but why don’t you write it out for you seem to find the answers in your writings more than talking about it.” So I started looking back at the writings and I realized there was a common theme of loneliness, boredom, and deprivation. Nowhere did I state that I was in desperate need of ice cream but rather there was this nasty emotion of depression, this veil that was all hey what’s up let’s tie up your happy feelings and sink you down to the bottom of the lake of sad feelings.  When I started going back through all the journals, the blog post, and even some of the conversations with others I realized that my internal dialogue was really not nice. In fact it was really rude. If my brain was a street you would not want to walk on it with your purse out but rather you would have your Taser out and look around quickly and leave fast.

So I had all this information but now what was I going to do it?

I ignored it.

Yet when you spirit is in such a deep need of healing it will use any means necessary to get your attention. There was no magical moment, no heavenly light, no Morgan Freeman to come down and say look genius this is what’s missing from your life add these and all your problems will be healed. However during a free write (basically a moment where I let my hand wander across with a pen) I wrote down a simple sentence. I have the power to set me free.  When I went back to the Buddhist nun/ therapist she told me simply it sounded like my soul was in torment and it was waiting for the conscious mind to set it free.  Oh don’t worry there wasn’t a magic answer. Just hard work. As I sit here with my St. Jude candle lit (St. Jude is the patron Saint of lost causes) I wrote a simple contract. 146 days of adding all the various elements together. Fitness. Food. Freedom.

With this I felt a chain being loosened.  Not a huge one. Yet slowly and hopefully surely I can loosen the binds that I put around myself all I can say and all I can feel is that I feel the binds are loosening and I’m opening myself slowly one stitch at a time finally it’s a yes, it’s now and I’m ready to cut through all of the darkness and goop that coats my insides.  I’ve been waiting for this moment.

So there’s that. 

The One Where Blake Gets Moody

It was on Day Three that I began to get rather bothered by other people’s presence no wait I would like to clarify it was the day that everything and everyone began to bother me. I feel like a hormonal teenager annoyed at the very questions directed towards me. “Where’s the bathroom?” one woman had asked me and though I had been courteous and pointed her in the right direction my crazy brain went “Ugh as if! Can’t you read?” as the day has progressed I find myself even annoyed with my presence.  It is as if I have way too many emotions mainly I feel like the sugar part of my brain has hijacked the control tower and is throwing a tantrum of epic proportions or like my sister after 4 ½ days at Disneyland. As my body moves from using its easy store of sugar for energy I’m making it work and it’s not liking it. I’m not liking it.

Yet I’m on day three. The day where most people throw in the towel drive on down to the ice cream parlor and say to the scooper why yes I want three scoops in a waffle cone and can you put a hustle on it?  So in preparation for this sort of event I hid my wallet from myself so that I would not even if I wanted to be able to go out and get fat I mean fast food. I've locked the door and told people that the best way to communicate with me would probably be by telegram or carrier pigeon. It took all my will power to be nice today.

So now I am sitting here on the couch with Friend reruns on in my comfort clothes, the snow falling out the window and my house smelling like smoke from the oh romantic bacon wrapped meatloaf I put in the oven that caught on fire. Note to self don’t’ jam a bunch of meat on top of other meat and not give the grease a place to go. So needless to say while the windows are open, the fans blowing and I bundled up in my down coat that is rated for arctic winter my surroundings finally meet my mood. In a few minutes I’m going to go to bed and hopefully wake up a much more pleasant and sparkly person. If not I might have to put myself on a penalty hold.

Day three.

Sucks.

Yeah. I said it.

The One Where Blake Just Wants to Lie Down

Day 2! Oh boy. LOOKS LIKE I MADE IT...oh sorry is this not the time for random song lyrics? To put it politely day 2 is the worst. Because the novelty is already worn off. It’s the second day of school after being out all summer, it’s the second child, and its well it’s just not that exciting to tell you the truth. All day yesterday I was dealing with the strongest desire to just punch a donkey. No I’m not proposing farm animal violence but if you have ever seen a donkey in action you know that they do what they want and they aren’t afraid to fight back.

What's really fun about this is I have to be my own cheerleader. No one is forcing me to do this. I could continue to get bigger and larger which is just perfect cause when you are the middle child and you take pictures the camera focuses right on you so really either way it's a win. Back to the internal cheer leading. It mainly goes like this Remember how it use to be when you could put on your belt and go in more than one notch? Remember those good old days?

So needless to say here's hoping for a better day 3.

The One Where Blake Does a Whole 30

I’m doing a whole30 again. I keep on asking myself how many whole 30’s it’s going to take for me to learn the lesson in which I feel is repeated. Yesterday in an act of pure mindless food driven thought I ate almost a whole bag of potato chips. It was at that moment that I had a bunch of potato chips in my mouth I realized I had relapsed into the crazy world of constantly eating looking no scratch that stuffing myself looking for some form of validation. In a weird way the food becomes the comforter, the giver of that instant flash of enjoyment. Yet when I look back at these few months of mindless eating and being out of control I cannot recall nor can I write in great deal the seemingly amazing food that I wanted. The problem is I've concluded is that the pint of ice cream is a liar. The mocha chiller doesn't’ make me a nice person, and the heaven forbid in the darkest moments that white glazed rainbow glazed doughnut isn't that amazing when you eat it every morning.

I’m not a fan of labels. In fact I detest them merely for the simple reason that they detract from seeing past the initial layer of what a person is. Yet I know you can’t escape them. They are a human’s way of knowing what is safe, who is allowed in the tribe and who might be a threat. The label I so hesitantly and so lamely take upon myself is that I’m a food addict. I use food in ways one might use alcohol, pills, or any other various modes in order to get an initial high.  The problem using food is that unlike the other forms of addiction it is needed in order to sustain you. Hi my name’s Blake and I have food/body issues is one way I plan on introducing myself to the various people I will meet when the youngest, the golden child, the glorified son gets married in less than 40 days. Which I must assure you is not why I am a food addict. No the reason is purely vain and no less neurotic.  I use food because it was there and for some reason my brain lights up like a freaking Christmas tree when I eat the sugar, the grain, and in a moment of quiet desperation the whole tub of cookie dough I had made to make cookies for a work function. To someone on the outside food addiction looks like someone who is out of control in fact it is quite the opposite. My goal? Is to constantly get more food. Mainly the sweet and dairy variety. So I could be sitting eating a let’s say amazing red velvet cake. While physically there shoving it in my mouth my mental state is already moving on to the next meal, the next desert. While one may in bed and think of the things they must do the next day or the great day they had my thoughts tend to the meals I’m going to consume.

Oh did I mention I’m impulsive? For the longest time I thought my last name was No. Because the way my parents seemed to mention me in sentences was this “Hi my name is Joye this is our daughter Emily and our Son Blake Blake NO!” I used to look at being impulsive as being a bad thing.  A thing of danger. Now I tend to see it as a way of learning, a way of interest. While I no longer jump off of things, touch everything, and get distracted by shiny things, it was the impulsiveness that lead me to some of the greatest adventures and people of my life. I would have never attended Utah State and met so many wonderful and dear friends, nor would I have never traveled to all the various places, and I certainly would not be writing this piece tonight if I had thought it out in every detail in my head. The only problem is as a food addict this has led to problems. Aka me at Betos at 3 in the morning eating a breakfast burrito and a blue raspberry Slurpee because it sounded good at the time. It wasn't.  From my journal “Dear Sweet Cheese what have I done to myself and I’m sorry oh so sorry please please make the punchy feeling stop.” However the time spent with friends doing it? Was totally worth it. So give and take.

What I’m trying to say is that this whole 30 experience is coming out of a need to be aware of what I am doing to myself. A need to survive past the age of 35. My worst, my absolute worst fear is that I will reach Discovery Channel fat. You know the type of fat that tends to lead you up to a Discovery Channel special where the come into a house and you see the crane lowering into the house and the good friend or girlfriend talking to the interviewer going “He wants to go to the movies!” and the fire department has the look on their face that says “Oh Hell no.” Then like Violet Beauregarde (the girl from Willy Wonka who turns into a blueberry) the fire men wheel him to a fat house and the person promptly loses all the weight and they make a skin quilt out of all the excess skin. As you can tell I've given this a little thought. (When I say a little? I mean a lot if you can’t tell).

So what is an obsessive impulsive food addict to do? Go on a strict plan of not eating sugar, legumes, dairy, grains, or alcohol (aka the only one that I consistently go I can do that one! Forever math impaired as I am I know that those aren't the greatest odds.)  Yet my body is telling me that it is ready. It is ready to eat good nutrient rich food. My pocket book is ready because the money I realized I spent more money out than bringing in. Lastly I realize that I need to add a creative element to these 30 days. Since the time I have is going to be limited due to work and trying not to cry when I waddle by the ice cream isle I’m going to blog about these thirty days instead of blowing up your Instagram feed with pictures and recipes. I’ll try to share the recipes I've made or found.

Lastly I write this piece to let you know that my therapist (like you are surprised) told me that in order to overcome a struggle the best way is to share it. Not all the details or write this as sense of NOTICE ME I’M A FLAWED INDIVIDUAL PRAISE ME! Instead to share with others to show that I’m vulnerable and that if you are in the same boat you aren't alone. So enjoy these 30 days with me. These postings may be long they may be short, they may be repetitive but hey at least I’ll try to make you laugh.