I Am Not Going to Gain the Trump 15

Okay, so the country chose the mind (and body) of advanced syphilis over a highly competent woman. Again. But this time I’m going to handle the gut wrenching display of misogyny differently. I am going to make way healthier choices.

This time I am not going to let the hopelessness of being a woman in America lead me to spiral into a vortex of cake and alcohol. 

I am not going to tell my family I just need to “be alone” in my room for a few minutes while I devour those “small but manageable” dark chocolate bars from Aldi that come in at least 8 flavors that give you something to look forward to each day you fear a public book burning(Sea Salt is the best, then Chili, and Orange. The other flavors can suck it.)

I am not going to stop running to “rest” or “regroup” for 2-48 months while I “figure this out” and by “this” I mean why American women didn’t vote for a highly competent woman.

I am not going to substitute applesauce in healthy recipes with rendered duck fat because “Who even cares about access to birth control?”

I am not going to count eye rolls as exercise even though my eyelids did get super jacked last time a highly competent woman was roundly rejected by the entire middle of the country.

I am not going to put liquor in my morning/ late morning/ afternoon/ evening coffee for a “way to endure his voice”.

I am not going to have friends over for “live, laugh, lard” gatherings where we check to see we haven’t been killed by Proud Boys and then proceed to eat lard-forward recipes because healthy organ function is so much work now that we have to learn Russian. 

I am not going to replace water with “health juice” (aka Paloma’s) so I can tolerate the smug betrayal of fellow “Jewish feminist” Ivanka Trump.

I am not going to put Fritos and sausage in my cereal and sprinkle it all with powdered sugar because the heart attack inducing, salty/sweet combination is like an upper/downer roller coaster that reminds me I am still living even though everyone in the cabinet is an unqualified buffoon making a mockery of nationhood.

I am not going to “Whoops! I lost my Fitbit in the washing machine!” and then stop moving because if it’s not being counted and you don’t have rights to your own body, what is the point of moving it?

I am not going to stop using my scale because the number is growing as fast as the number of people dying of COVID and we are being told to “just drink bleach” or “shoot a light in there”.

I am not going to gain the Trump 15.

I am not going to gain the Trump 15.

I am not going to gain the Trump 15.

I will not.

I refuse.

As Blondie, another competent woman, sang, “I’m not the kind of girl who gives up just like that.”

The tide is high, Blondie. But I’m holding on. I’m going to be your number one.

Your number one who didn’t gain the Trump 15.

But god how I want to devour my despair in cake and liquor.

One won’t hurt.