A Timeline Of Your Spring Break Diet


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Nice Move


Well, it’s over. The days of shoveling our faces with cookies and flatlining at 100 steps walked on our fitness apps are over. With the holidays ending, something just as sacred is on the horizon: spring break. And while days of laying in the sun and getting drunk off of alcohol you snuck onto your cruise sounds like heaven, it also sounds scary. Because uh, have you seen you recently? As soon as you booked your trip, you took a good, hard look at yourself in the mirror.

Maybe it’s the lighting? The fluorescents in here suck.
Was my mirror replaced with one of those carnival mirrors?
I had a burrito today. That’s what it is.

But the truth is, you soooort of let yourself go these past months. But now? Now you’re determined to get your shit together. To look good by society’s standards. To be one of those girls who gets free stuff and stars in the Youtube vids of the SB events. You want to become a hot girl. And here is a timeline of how, exactly, you’re going to do that.

New Year’s Eve: The Goal
Before the party. Before getting ready for the party. Before the drinking and the drunk eating and the crying to your ex one. last. time. (this year), you stepped on the scale. You almost passed out when you realized how much weight you’d gained in the past year. Ding ding ding! Resolution. Give up carbs. And sugar. And foods with a shadow. Starting tomorrow, you’re going to become a hottie.

New Year’s Day: The Hangover
Oh my Godddddd. Did you die last night? Are you even alive? You look around, wondering what the fuck woke you up. You see your phone buzzing happily next to you. You glance at the label on the 7 a.m. alarm you set last night before you had switched from wine to tequila. “Time to work out! New year, new me!” Fuuuuuck that, you think to yourself. You promptly go back to sleep until noon, and order a large pizza, some breadsticks, and a cookie cake. All for yourself. Whatever. New year, new me can start tomorrow. Today? It’s new year, same unmotivated, hungover, drowning-in-carbs me.

January 2nd: The Start
This is it. You’re actually starting. You throw out all of your chips, cookies, and pastas (I’ll miss you). You gaze longingly at your leftover pizza before giving it to your skinny (bitch) roommate. You buy lettuce and spinach for the first time in what feels like years. You dust off the old tennis shoes you found in the back of your closet, and you ask the leasing office where the gym is. You know, in the apartment complex you’ve lived at for two years. You tell yourself that you’ll just run a mile. Except, LOL. After five minutes on the treadmill you actually want to die. You pretend to get a phone call, leave the gym, and cry while eating a whole bag of celery.

The First Weekend: The Temptation
You’re siting at home, wondering how to the hell you’re going to get through the weekend. People are asking you to go out to dinner (what? And eat carbs?) before going out and drinking (empty calories?) at whatever shithole you frequent. You go to the gym for twenty minutes, take a Snapchat of yourself, and decide what the hell? You’ve earned this. So you go out. You order a salad. You sip on waters and vodka sodas all night. And at about 11 p.m. you realize how miserable it is to do anything fun when you’re dieting, so you go home and eat a sugar-free fat-free pudding and cry.

Mid-January: The Routine
Wake up before class. Eat a healthy breakfast. Pack protein-filled snacks. Talk to someone about your diet. Go to the gym. Check in at the gym. Snapchat at the gym. By this time, it feels like you’ve been living the #fitfam life for ages. Sure, it’s only been two weeks. And you know you’ve only lost a pound, but you don’t care. You’ve got this. You can see abs in your future and you’re determined to make it happen.

End of January: Are You Like, Skinny Now?
It’s almost been a month, and somehow, you did it. You don’t even remember what carbs taste like. Your arms look like they could actually have some muscle underneath the skin instead of the product of late-night Taco Bell. You sort of low-key hate everyone who’s still eating gluten, but the fact that your stomach isn’t as embarrassing as it used to be makes you not care. Could you run a mile now? Most likely. Are you happy while doing it? Hell no. But twenty-nine days in, nothing can stop you.

Valentine’s Day: The Breaking Point
Remember how you thought nothing could stop you? Yeah. You were wrong. Cue: Valentine’s Day. Whether you’re in a relationship or single, this day is spent gorging on chocolate, eating delicious food, and lounging in bed while having orgasm after orgasm. No gym. No veggies. And no regard to diets. Say “hello” to the three pounds you just lost, because you’ll find them again by noon.

Day After Valentine’s Day: The Depression
You managed to gain five pounds since yesterday. You still have a whole box of unopened candy, and just bought three more because they were 50 percent off. Fuck it. You’ll start the diet again tomorrow.

February 16th: The Half-Heartedly Start All Over
You were doing so well. Honestly. You didn’t miss a day at the gym, and you hadn’t Snapchatted pizza in weeks. But then Valentine’s Day came and you remembered what real food tasted like. You laced up your shoes with less momentum and sat on the couch for an hour, trying to will yourself to go to the gym. “If I have a smoothie for lunch, will that count as a workout?” You eventually go to the gym, only to realize you accidentally-on-purpose forgot a hair tie. You try to run without one, but your locks keeps hitting you in the eye, so you return to your apartment and eat some leftover spaghetti that your roommate had made two weeks ago.

End of February: The Last Attempt
You’ve lost your steam. The fit lifestyle that was once your everything (read: a month ago), has now hopelessly, hopelessly disintegrated. You still have a head of lettuce in the back of your fridge, but you keep forgetting about in favor for the takeout boxes covering it. You sort of went to the gym last week, but you spend most of the time gossiping with your friend by the water fountain and trying to make the TV on the elliptical work. You still love the idea of being fit, and if you go out to eat, you might order a side salad with your meal instead of fries. But the abs? They’re history. And your motivation to get them? Forever dwindling.

First Weekend of March: Acceptance
As you get ready for break, a slow acceptance has spread over you. Your tummy is still jiggling. And that thigh gap? LOL. Nah. Didn’t happen. You search stores for the magic outfit that will somehow hide your entire body while simultaneously making you look like a high-class hooker. You’ve totally given up on veggies and are living on a diet of pizza rolls and wine. You plan to just submerge yourself in water so no one can see your belly and drown yourself in alcohol when you inevitably forget about your plan and talk to your crush sans-clothes. Vintage, high-waisted bathing suits are officially your best friend.

Spring Break: Fuck It
Maybe you lost a few pounds, maybe you didn’t. But once you’re knee deep in water, a few states away, or just drunkity-drunk-drunk, you really don’t care. So you have some extra flab, and the girl you’ve always hated has abs but it’s FINE because you didn’t even notice. A few more shots of tequila, some midnight cruise food, and some over-the-pants action with a respectable “7” who you’re sure is using a fake name, and you’re golden. Who cares if you you don’t have the ideal body? When you have a week off from school and responsibilities, it doesn’t even matter.

Because when it all comes down to it, true beauty from comes being happy, confident, and comfortable in your own skin. Or Facetune. Either way, really.

(yeahokaywhat) Aspiring to be the next Tina Fey, Rachel spends her free time doing nothing to reach that goal. While judging people based on how they use "they're" vs. "there" on social media, she likes eating buffalo chicken dip, watching other people's Netflix, and wearing sweatpants way more than is socially acceptable. Hate mail and puppy videos can be sent to: rachel@grandex.co

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