Calorie Nazi Status Report

Does it count as a status report if I'm reporting that I've haven't reported in with The Calorie Nazi in nearly a month?

OK, so, confession time.

I've been eating like an unsupervised teenager with a bad case of the munchies. And since that's how Wonderful Husband would eat every day of his life if I didn't usually stand in his way armed with healthy meals, well, we've been quite the pathetic pair since we came home from the hospital.

In the last four weeks we've managed to go through...
- dozens of bagels
- shameful quantities of cream cheese and Nutella
- a gallon of eggnog (ok, that was just me. he can't stand it.)
- ridiculous quantities of frozen pizza
- at least a case of soda
- a couple packages of brats and hot dogs
- 4 packages of Fudge Stripes cookies (and ya know what? after the second one you hardly feel the guilt any more. I think it might be numbed by all the trans fats and high fructose corn syrup.)
- an entire batch of Tollhouse cookies (because apparently all the store bought ones weren't enough)
- an entire tub of pseudo-cheese spread
- several orders of Chicken and Broccoli with fried rice... and don't forget the deep fried crab rangoon!
- fewer ordered pizzas than you'd think (we were too busy filling up on nasty store bought cookies!)
- more Italian Beef than two humans should ever consume. Served, of course, with my personal touch - garlic bread buried under melted mozzarella
- two bags of frozen tater tots
- too many jalapeno poppers to count. drenched, of course, in ranch dressing
- gallons of chocolate milk
- more Big Macs than I care to admit

At least my last organic veggie delivery came with salad stuff, and in the midst of this junk food orgy I have also, for whatever reason, been on a major salad kick. Probably the last vestiges of my inner triathlete screaming for mercy.

But never fear, I managed to drown out the cries for help with a couple of jars of extra chunky blue cheese dressing.

BUT... believe it or not, I have not gained any weight. Yet. I guess the fact that sleeping is still more important than eating and those couple hundred extra calories a day I'm pouring into breast milk production are temporarily saving my flabby ass.

So. Yeah. I know. I mean, I KNOW. This must end. Like, immediately. Because I'm not going to make it through that half marathon next August on Fudge Stripes and egg nog.

I guess I just had to come clean in order to force myself to clean up my act.