Honeymoons, Hangovers, and Hula Pie’s

Oh the honeymoon. When I would think of what my honeymoon might be like, I pictured tons of romance, looking and feeling sexy, long walks on the beach, and candle lit dinners-where I would so delicately and femininely pick at my grilled fish and salad. Well NEWS FLASH people!! Here’s what it really looked like:

Sexy in the way of food porn, perhaps. Sexy in the way my lycra containing jeans didn’t fit after 5 days-not so much. Before I go into further detail with you, let me just say that I had a GREAT TIME!!! Hawaii was beautiful, I was with my best friend, and I stuffed my face like anyone at an all-inclusive resort would do. But I wasn’t at an all inclusive resort. I can honestly say that I started with good intentions-that is until I found out that whenever you’d tell a waiter or waitress it’s your honeymoon-you seemed to get a free Hula Pie. Who can resist a Hula Pie?!! Surely not me. I mean, do you know what is in a Hula Pie??! Never mind the ingredients, the important part is that they are the size of my head and I ate 4 of them in 6 days. I say I because my husband seemed to be the one doing the delicate feminine picking while I oh so sexily shoveled our “shared” pile of heaven into my mouth.

As you probably know from reading my previous posts, I am a bit of an extremist. All or nothing. Black or white. You know the type. So naturally, the morning after Hula Pie #1, I effortlessly abandoned my usual egg white/oatmeal combo, finding this for breakfast:

Coconut pull-apart bread. I’m pretty sure I didn’t even look this happy on my wedding day, folks. So again Jay and I “shared”, and you know how well that went over. Now it’s one thing to stuff your face, but when you retain water like a pack of extra heavy duty sponges left to soak in a bathtub full of salt water for a year, you end up with ankles like these:

Sexy?

My salt-less ankle for comparison. And a Great Dane paw too.

By NO MEANS am I trying to say that I have sexy ankles when I don’t retain water-but what I am trying to say is: How in the world are you supposed to feel sexy on your honeymoon when your ankles are the size of your thighs by day TWO!?!! Did I mention my period started on day 3? Thank goodness for maxi dresses, as the thought of wearing my bikini made me lose my appetite. Ok, thats a lie-nothing makes me lose my appetite.

Anyway, somewhere between gorging, sleeping, and deciding which maxi dress I brought had the most “slimming” effect-I found myself at the gym. UGH. Normally, I kinda love to workout (ok maybe not the actual process, but the feeling after). However, when I am eating like crap and have no intentions of stopping until the most convenient MONDAY (another problem), I find myself just monkeying around:

How many pull-ups do you think I did? If you guessed not even one, you are correct. This photo was just to prove that I made some sort of attempt to stay in shape. But one can only do so much to negate the 273,918,365 calories they piled in the day before. OH! And you know what else this photo proves? My HUSBAND was at the gym with me! Only, his lucky a@@ can eat 273,918,365 calories and not gain a freakin’ ounce. Jerk.

Well, dreadfully came the day when it was time to leave, and if you read my blog I Broke Up with my Wedding, you know how much I dislike endings:

Yes, I am crying. Into a bed sheet. However, I’m not sure it was going home, or getting back to my regular eating that brought more tears than a box of Kleenex could handle. Probably the latter.

And then came MONDAY…

Normally, I enjoy this type of meal. But after a week full of Hula Pie’s, pull-apart bread, pineapple bagels, Puka Dogs (omg google it), coconut crusted calamari, and everything macadamia nut I could get my hands on, grilled chicken, asparagus, onions and sliced tomatoes just didn’t have their usual appeal. In fact, I’m pretty sure my taste buds thought I was playing some kind of sick joke on them. Needless to say, it’s been 4 days since Monday, which means 4 days of clean eating, hard workouts, plenty of water, and dreaming about Mai Tai’s-but alas the bloat is starting to banish. starting. So was it worth it? Totally. Why? Because you only live once and you only have one honeymoon. Hopefully.