Final Destination.

I think I’m going to change the theme of my blog to ‘The trials and tribulations of an-above-average-BMI female.” Very Mindy Kaling-esque.

The most ridiculous events happen to me when I’m trying to eat healthy. Ok, yes, the cupcake/macaroon fiasco of the past week was probably more of my own doing, but I swear there are external factors or should I say, the universe’s influence, that also contribute to my difficulty in maintaining a good diet/exercise program. And last night was proof.

So I’m sitting normally at my desk at work, successfully having only eaten 600 calories as of 5pm, and having more than enough calories left for my dinner because I am doing great at my calorie-counting, exercising, etc for the day. And then my phone rings. It is a delivery guy saying he has food outside. So I was like “Sorry, Sir, you have the wrong number.” He hangs up. My phone rings thirty seconds later. I answer. “You have food outside.” Again, “I’m sorry, you still have the wrong number.” And then he’s like, “Are you Amara?”

…

Uh, yes.

“Do you live on [he says my address]?”

Yea…

“There is a large pepperoni pizza here for you.”

I’m at work. I didn’t order this.

“Maybe someone at your apartment ordered it?”

No, I live alone.

“Well, it’s already paid for.”

Well, I’m not home to get it. I don’t understand how this happened.

“I don’t know, miss. I’ll bring it back to the pizzeria and figure out what’s going on.”

So then the pizzeria calls me.

Well, apparently, their computer system somehow magically generated an order for me since I was a former customer. A large pepperoni pizza actually. And they told me that the pizza was available for pick-up free-of-charge if I was so inclined to pick it up after work.

Like WHY does this happen!?

Of all their customers in Center City Philadelphia, how and why did they pick me?! It's like there is some radar that exists to find my weaknesses and subtly exploit them to make me fail.

It's like not only do I get magic free delivery, but also, this mysterious computer decides that the perfect order for someone who is trying oh-so-hard to lose just five more pounds is obviously, a large pepperoni pizza?! If this Higher Power wanted to make life just a little better for me, why would he/she/it not have delivered a side garden salad (ew, gross) and a diet coke to my door? Or maybe a gift certificate for some lipo.

It’s like I can’t anymore. I give up. I can’t fight destiny. 

This is some Final Destination ish.

I am meant to forever be an above-average BMI female. I'm just going to eat a cupcake and a macaroon, oh, and my large pepperoni pizza, and call it a day.

Hey Universe, you win.