The Basic Eight Challenge Days 1 - 5: You're lucky to be alive

My dear Dice and I were lamenting one day in late December how we would like to cut out some of our vices. Dicey wanted to cut back on the drinking, and I said I would like to quit smoking. If only, we said, someone would pay us to do that! We decided to have a contest with each other: we'd quit our respective vice and whoever gave in first would have to buy the other one dinner. We asked the rest of the Basic Eight to join in, and The Basic Eight Challenge was born.

If you're keeping score at home, Curt is challenging himself to run 25 miles a week, Kara is challenging herself to do six hours of cardio a week, and Amy is challenging herself to work out five times a week. This is all on the honor system. I have already cried over it once. Don't worry about it.

So, we started the Challenge on January 2nd. I smoked my last cigarette on January 1st at about 11 PM. And it was probably sometime around 7 PM on Saturday that I started plotting murders.

Friday was okay. It's easy enough not to smoke for a few hours, and I was doing stuff all day, so that was fine. I ate nine cupcakes over the course of the day, but I was still okay.

Saturday not so much. I cut it down to only five cupcakes, but I was still a little testy.

Sunday, shit went down. People got yelled at for no reason. I cried for about ten minutes before Jane Austen rehearsal, for no reason, but realizing the entire time that I had to get it in before rehearsal actually started, because when we cry in rehearsal, our coach gets very "League of Their Own" about it. He doesn't yell at us, but I mean, come on, the coach isn't going to like ladies crying during rehearsal any way you slice it. I cut it down to two cupcakes, and thanks to Improvised Jane Austen, that was the end of my cupcakes, but I did eat a piece and a half of cheesecake. The nicotine is, by the way, officially out of my system on this day.

Monday was just as bad. I cried at work thanks to some confusion with the rules of the Challenge (I did NOT smoke a cigarette though), I had a psychosomatic heart attack (common occurrence when I quit smoking) and I started openly threatening to hit people. I go home, find the elliptical occupied when working out is the only thing that makes me feel normal for a few minutes, and go to my room, cry, and work out to a Billy Blanks video instead. Note: Billy Blanks sucks now that he is all Zen. I want to punch some shit. Also, it's hard to do Tae Bo when you have exactly four square feet available to you. I spend the day hazy and cotton-brained, and go to sleep as soon as the opportunity presents itself.

That brings us to Tuesday, today, I think. I am still full of blood lust, and I still want to punch. I have not eaten any cupcakes. I have also not smoked a cigarette. I am starting to think I deserve more than some Pad Thai for this torture though. And that is coming from someone who is going to weigh 500 pounds by the end of the month.