Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Day 5, Tuesday: SCORE! I heart candy!

I start out the day with a plain ol’ falafel patty.

Around lunch time I head on over to one of my favorite places of consumer excess, Tar-jay. A la the female stereotype, I am powerless to resist the lure of that giant red bull’s eye. The knowledge that I will later suffer from a purchase hangover is rarely strong enough to overcome the lure of the acquisition high. Any excuse will suffice for the chance to peruse rack after rack of shoddily-made , yet stylish clearance clothes (Sorry Target, you know I still love you.) And since I’m usually at least a season or two behind the latest trend anyways, I don’t mind sacrificing cutting-edge style for economy. Today, my “reason” (like I need one) for entering these hallowed halls of low to moderate priced merchandise is to procure a scale. I “need” a scale in order to document any weight changes that may occur over the course of my 30/30.

After spending time in the clearance clothes section, but finding nothing that tickles my reasonably priced fancy, I head on over to the bedding and bath section to get a scale. Since that’s the “reason” I came, after all. Apparently, scale ownership is for the privileged class only, as the cheapest Target has to offer carries the hefty price tag of $29.99. For that price, I could eat for another month! Believing myself clever, I think I might just weigh myself in the store, thus avoiding the cost of this swank item and the inevitable buyer’s remorse. Unfortunately, I can only assume that I am not the first to reach this conclusion, because the scale is firmly bolted/glued/tied/magically charmed inside of the damn box, and is not coming out without a box cutter, blow torch, and some needle-nose pliers. Having neither the tools on hand, nor the luxury of 30 dollars to throw around on fancy-schmance extravagances, I decide that I weigh 115 lbs.

Now, I admit that I had one additional motive for going to Target. As any self-respecting, clearance-seeking, candy lover knows, early January is a bargain bonanza of left-over Christmas confectioneries. After some trouble locating the post-season sale section, I find the holiday mark-down section in the far back of the store. Alas, it appears that too many of those in the know have been here before me. The treasure trove of holiday delights and delicacies I had imagined is but a flea-marketesque conglomeration of santa-adorned Christmas cards, tinsel, tree toppers, and Rudolph wrapping paper that missed the cut. I fear I have waited a few days too many in my quest to fill that sweets void in my life. Diligence is rarely disappointed however, and after digging through several bins of mostly inedibles, I locate three things worth keeping: (1) a Christmas ornament in the shape of the letter “K”, (2) holiday shape and color Kraft marshmallows, and (3) a giant brick of “chocolate” flavored almond bark. Marshmallows $0.11, and "chocolate" $0.19. Bam bitches!

After deducting these latest procurements from my $30, I now have $0.35, and only 25 days left to go.

As I leave the store with the plan of waiting until after lunch to break open the booty, I realize my inner fat person has gone ahead without my permission and eaten approximately 15 marshmallows before I’ve even pulled out of the parking deck. Ten or so marshmallows later, I’ve made it home, where I enjoy a lunch of Falafel Taco, even more marshmallows, and a small piece of “chocolate.” Never to be confused with Chocolate, “chocolate flavored” anything is the ugly step-cousin of Chocolate. In most cases, I would reject “chocolate” as one might reject dog-poop or arsenic, but when times are tough we must all suffer, my sweet tooth included.

More lentils and spinach for dinner, followed by six marshmallows.

2 comments:

  1. "I decide that I weigh 115 lbs."

    Because I am a J and thus the center of the universe, this is what this sentence actually says to me -

    "I believe that Jeannie weighs thirty-five pounds more than me. What a fat fucking bitch."

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  2. You should throw out your scale. Then you can weigh 115 lbs too.

    ReplyDelete