This Is Goodbye (For Now)

Dear Beloved Readers,

This is Wendy’s friend Courtney, aka the Woman Behind the Curtain. I have some terrible news: Wendy is happy.

Yes, I know, I know. I am just as stunned as you are. Wendy met a nice cactus named Walter and it looks like he’s The One. (Cue the Hallelujah chorus).  Our favorite self-absorbed cactus actually managed to fall in love.  Walter is smart, funny and handsome. And more importantly, he is the perfect match for Wendy and he makes her want to be the best cactus she can possibly me (which is not necessarily saying much).

This is bittersweet for me to say, but since Wendy is so happy, she has decided to give up blogging… for now. I have a feeling she will return eventually.

In the meantime, since Wendy has abandoned us for true love, I am blogging elsewhere at The Cranky Pumpkin (thecrankypumpkin.blogspot.com).

Love,

Courtney, the Woman Behind the Curtain

Wendy vs. The Cake: Part 3 (The Final Shameful Chapter)

To recap, even though I have been on a strict diet, I decided it would be a good idea to bake a cake. I had been craving cake and reasoned I could overcome my cravings by baking. But then, I frosted the cake, and chocolate frosting is my kryptonite, and then the cake called me a Fat Bitch and said I would die alone while wearing Old Navy jeans. I blacked out and went bat shit crazy on the cake. I am not proud of what happened.

I burrowed into the cake like a rabid meerkat.

It was not my finest hour.

For a moment, I regained my self-control. I thought everything was going to be okay.

 

But the smell of chocolate frosting was too intoxicating and even though I was on the verge of exploding, I dove back for more cake.  The feeding frenzy was not yet over.

Finally, I passed out.  Look at me.  I'm like a beached whale in a bakery. 

 I feel ashamed and fat.  Very, very fat.

Wendy vs. The Cake, Part 2

Since I had been craving cake all week, I thought it would be a good idea to bake a cake.  I wasn't actually going to eat the cake, ok?  I just thought it would be therapeutic to go through the motions of baking a cake.  Then, I would throw it out and feel stronger than ever.

Except I forgot about my chocolate frosting problem.  It's my kryptonite. 

The cake called out my name.  Literally.

I was powerless before the chocolate frosting.  I listened, spellbound, to the cake:

Look, I can handle being called a fat bitch, and I can even handle being told I will die alone.  But there is absolutely no way I would ever be caught dead in a pair of Old Navy jeans.

This is when I lost control and blacked out.

Wendy vs. The Cake: Part One

I have been tormented by a box of cake mix for the past week.  I sought guidance from my guru.  He told me to stop being so shallow.   

I have been following a very strict diet so I can be as gorgeous and sexually desirable as possible.  A yellow cake with chocolate frosting is NOT part of my diet.  But baking a yellow cake with chocolate frosting?  That's okay! 

I preheated the oven to 350 degrees... 

I gathered all the ingredients... 



and mixed everything together.   I could feel myself growing stronger...

I slowly poured the batter into the cake pans...

I have been obsessing about this cake for over a week.  I have dreamed about its taste, its smell, its texture... But you know what? Baking a cake is just as satisfying as eating a cake.

I am amazing.  I baked a cake and did not even taste the batter.  I did not even want to taste the batter! I am a pillar of strength and inspiration.

Finally, I frosted the cake.

And then... all hell broke loose.  In hindsight, I probably should have skipped the last step.  We all have lines that we should not cross, and my line is apparently made from chocolate frosting. 

My therapist says I should blog about what happened after I frosted the cake.  But I'm not ready to return to that dark, dark place.

Please go away now.

Where the Eff Did This Come From?

I went to the grocery story to stock up on cabbage.  I am on a Cabbage Cleanse.  The only thing I am allowed to eat is cabbage.  I really do not want to talk about it because the word "cabbage" makes me throw up in my mouth and weep uncontrollably.

When I got home, I found the devil hiding in my shopping bag:

Some people think the Pillsbury Doughboy is cute and friendly, but I know better.  The Pillsbury Doughboy is one of Satan's minions.  Just look at that evil smile and those vacant eyes, and oh, that diabolical laugh when you poke his adorable tummy...  He's insane!  The Pillsbury Doughboy was sent to earth to torment dieters and lure them into temptation. This box of Moist Supreme Yellow Cake Mix is my spiritual trial.

But there is more.  The Pillsbury Doughboy is a clever bastard.  The cake mix is evil, but the chocolate icing?  I would never have put that in my shopping cart.  Well done, Pillsbury Doughboy, well done.

The Pillsbury Doughboy thinks I am weak and will devour the chocolate icing.  But no.  I have incredible will power.  I am going to put the cake mix and icing in my cupboards.  I will gaze longingly at them and whisper sweet nothings to them while I stew my cabbage, but I will not eat them.  The devil is going to have to try harder if he wants to break this dieter's spirit.

Altoids. Joy.

I know so many women who accidentally lose weight - oh I was so busy working/studying, that I forgot to eat; I was so depressed, I didn't want to eat; I was so happy, I just spent my days skipping through fields and never had time to eat.

I have never had this sort of problem.  I am capable of eating and gaining weight under any and all circumstances.  But last November, I got divorced and decided it was time to get skinny and gorgeous. I stopped eating tasty and delicious foods.  Instead, I have just been eating tasteless things like raw cauliflower and sprouts.

One problem: I miss flavor.  Yesterday, I found a stick of butter in the fridge and last night, I had some very naughty dreams.  Jenny Craig would gasp with horror if she knew about my dreams. 

Now, all I want to do is eat butter.  I'd love to have some butter that has been mixed up with some chocolate and flour and sugar and transformed into a spectacular dessert.  But I'm desperate.  I'll just eat a stick of raw butter.  I don't even need a piece of toast. 

But I don't want to undo all my hard work.  If I eat butter, I will gain back all my weight and then my girlfriends will make fun of me behind my back.  So, in order to stay on my diet, I am letting myself have a special treat: altoids!

Three altoids = 10 calories.  I have been very good today.  I have only eaten 97 altoids. If I close my eyes and think about chocolate cake, it almost feels like I am eating something delicious.

I hate my life.

I Want To Do Unholy Things With This Butter

When I first joined my ultra-hip ashram, I cleared out all the junk food from my house.  I think a lot of ashrams are about enlightenment and meditating, but this is Los Angeles, and in Los Angeles, it is very important to be as hot and desirable as possible.  I joined my ashram because my guru has helped a lot of movie stars lose weight.

I restocked my fridge with cabbage, carrot sticks and cottage cheese.  When I have a craving for something that tastes good, it's ok - there is nothing good to eat in the house.  Once, I thought I would die if I did not have a piece of chocolate, so I flushed my car keys down the toilet.  (My building's manager was SO pissed at me.  He's so unreasonable).

This morning, though, I found a stick of butter lurking behind a rotting eggplant.  Have you ever seen anything so beautiful in your life?  I have been fantasizing about the butter all day.  Very shameful fantasies. 

I know I should throw out the butter.  I will.  Later.  Or maybe I'll just rub it all over my body so I can smell the butter wherever I go.