Exercise. I get it. It is next to impossible to lose a significant amount of weight, or to keep it off, if exercise isn't part of your daily life. Period. And I even like it. I'm not talking about the donning a lycra suit and making macho with the hard bodies at Gold's Gym kind of exercise. I mean walking at a determined pace, or dancing my #ss off to some 80's tunes. A 2 mile walk to the 7/11 with my kiddo (sugar free Slurpees? Come on!) is the most fun EVER. The things that a 7 year old will say, notice, try out while walking are infinitely varied and amusing. And I still work up a sweat climbing our neighborhood hills.
I completely get it when Michelle, our group leader, and supposed diet Nazi, makes assignments that are designed to push us out of our comfort zones. "Include 10 minutes of an activity you have never tried before." "Do something outside instead of indoors - or vice versa." These mandates are meant to assist we the round in embracing movement as a part of life. Hurray for new things!
HOWEVER. The assignment this week is to get up early to exercise. Great! I already get up at 5:15am every weekday to participate in "Walk Club" with my daughter at her school before class. And when asked to share my plan for incorporating early rising into my life? I lay out this fact for the group members, who nod appreciatively. Right up to the moment Michelle asks, "So what are you going to do this weekend to meet the assignment?" Um...SLEEP THE F**K IN? Roll over on my pillow and thank the Supreme Being that I can remain in bed until my kiddo wakes me at the luxurious hour of 7am? What do you THINK I am going to do - given the fact that I get up before some farmers every other day of the freaking week?
It would seem, from the audible gasps, and looks of veiled shock that a rejoinder to your group leader consisting of the words "Bite me!" is not considered an appropriate response. Good to know.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Friday, September 10, 2010
The Long Good-bye
How did all my resolve melt away into to pretty much nine months of heavy eating and, yes, MORE pounds? No ready excuses, except to say that I? Love. Food. My faithful diet pal and loving sister, Melissa, and I decided in July that it would be wise to re-visit the land of medically supervised weight loss - if only to keep from dropping dead and leaving our children motherless - but due to the endless hoop-jumping required to get into the program, we celebrated the end of eating real food with a series of what can only be called Roman Food Orgies.
If you have never been overweight and have never felt the need to diet, well first let me just say...DIE. NOW. But seriously, if you have either been blessed with some sort of miraculous metabolism that actually allows you to eat yummy, cheesy goodness in mass quantities without also exploding out of your jeans, or you are one of those rare persons who has an internal meter that says, "Hey! You know, you have eaten enough now. The salad and three kidney beans you just consumed has made you full and happy - so stop eating!" you may not understand the need to bid adieu to every one of your favorite food haunts before beginning a serious diet. Let me lay that out for you...
Imagine, if you will, a party at which there is an international group of friends gathered to shout bon voyage as you prepare to sail off to a distant land. The tall, slim Italian is there. The creamy skinned Greek. The burly Southerner. There are representatives from every food culture on Earth, as well as one for each of the regions of the US. And you feel, deep within your soul, that you MUST bid each and every one of them a personal, and heartfelt, good-bye.
Yup. I personally ate my way through India (farewell creamy vegetable dish that I cannot pronounce!), Greece (Oh hummus! How I love you!), Italy (okay, we had to part company more than once - Alfredo! I will miss you! Stuffed shells! Don't be a stranger! Tortellini, keep in touch!), Thailand (Pad Prik Chicken, farewell!)...well, you get the picture. So the long good-bye from July to September 1st resulted in 10 more pounds of which I must now rid myself. Oh, but it was bliss while it lasted!
It is safe to say that I...might...have a small food addiction.
If you have never been overweight and have never felt the need to diet, well first let me just say...DIE. NOW. But seriously, if you have either been blessed with some sort of miraculous metabolism that actually allows you to eat yummy, cheesy goodness in mass quantities without also exploding out of your jeans, or you are one of those rare persons who has an internal meter that says, "Hey! You know, you have eaten enough now. The salad and three kidney beans you just consumed has made you full and happy - so stop eating!" you may not understand the need to bid adieu to every one of your favorite food haunts before beginning a serious diet. Let me lay that out for you...
Imagine, if you will, a party at which there is an international group of friends gathered to shout bon voyage as you prepare to sail off to a distant land. The tall, slim Italian is there. The creamy skinned Greek. The burly Southerner. There are representatives from every food culture on Earth, as well as one for each of the regions of the US. And you feel, deep within your soul, that you MUST bid each and every one of them a personal, and heartfelt, good-bye.
Yup. I personally ate my way through India (farewell creamy vegetable dish that I cannot pronounce!), Greece (Oh hummus! How I love you!), Italy (okay, we had to part company more than once - Alfredo! I will miss you! Stuffed shells! Don't be a stranger! Tortellini, keep in touch!), Thailand (Pad Prik Chicken, farewell!)...well, you get the picture. So the long good-bye from July to September 1st resulted in 10 more pounds of which I must now rid myself. Oh, but it was bliss while it lasted!
It is safe to say that I...might...have a small food addiction.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Pearl's Curse
A lot of fat people don't know why, specifically, they are fat. Oh yes, they can say with some authority that it is because they eat too much cheese, or they last exercised during some tenseness over Y2K, but they can't say for CERTAIN that they know why they have grown to maximum density.
Unlike those poor sods, I can say with some alacrity that I have more than a good hunch as to why I have packed on so many pounds that I once again shop in the Micheline Tire Person department at WalMart. There is definitely some cheese and lack of exercise involved, but really for this fat girl it is all due to my cousin, Pearl.
No, seriously. I have it all figured out. This hideous slide into fatdom is a direct result of a family curse placed upon me by a jealous relative. That kind of curse, is of course, both the most powerful and most permanent you can cast. Without doubt, I have Pearl to blame.
I remember the moment so clearly...my sister Judith had died quite suddenly and without warning, of a cardiac arrest in January of 2007. My remaining siblings and I traveled north to Bremerton, Washington to clean out her apartment, close her dealings with this world, to have her memorial service, and to bury her in a country cemetary one snowy day. It was during the winter of thinness, the only time in my life when I could wear a size 10 and actually liked being photographed.
After the memorial service, we all gathered for a family dinner at the bed and breakfast belonging to our cousin Ellen. Pearl, who is my um...second cousin, by virtue of being my great aunt's daughter, yelled out to her husband, "Hurry up Clank! Take a picture of Anne-Elizabeth...while she's STILL THIN!" I turned toward the sound of her voice, and I SWEAR TO GOD my thighs grew bigger by two inches that very moment. I didn't eat a single huckleberry crepe that trip, but Pearl's curse caused an immediate, and continuing weight gain that is still evident on my person. Bitch.
I would gladly stuff Pearl's mouth full of brie and duct tape it shut in hopes of suffocating her if I could bring myself to go north again. And really? Clank? Who has a husband named Clank? Pearl's prediction that I would gain back all my weight within a year hung over me like some mythical sword - waiting to drop fat from the heavens the moment I let my guard down and mistook a pound of sirloin for a veggie burger.
So now, I have to take all this off again. I plan to use Pearl for that too. They say living well is the best revenge. Perhaps, but walking into the the next family reunion a size 10, and then stuffing her face with brie wouldn't feel too badly either.
Unlike those poor sods, I can say with some alacrity that I have more than a good hunch as to why I have packed on so many pounds that I once again shop in the Micheline Tire Person department at WalMart. There is definitely some cheese and lack of exercise involved, but really for this fat girl it is all due to my cousin, Pearl.
No, seriously. I have it all figured out. This hideous slide into fatdom is a direct result of a family curse placed upon me by a jealous relative. That kind of curse, is of course, both the most powerful and most permanent you can cast. Without doubt, I have Pearl to blame.
I remember the moment so clearly...my sister Judith had died quite suddenly and without warning, of a cardiac arrest in January of 2007. My remaining siblings and I traveled north to Bremerton, Washington to clean out her apartment, close her dealings with this world, to have her memorial service, and to bury her in a country cemetary one snowy day. It was during the winter of thinness, the only time in my life when I could wear a size 10 and actually liked being photographed.
After the memorial service, we all gathered for a family dinner at the bed and breakfast belonging to our cousin Ellen. Pearl, who is my um...second cousin, by virtue of being my great aunt's daughter, yelled out to her husband, "Hurry up Clank! Take a picture of Anne-Elizabeth...while she's STILL THIN!" I turned toward the sound of her voice, and I SWEAR TO GOD my thighs grew bigger by two inches that very moment. I didn't eat a single huckleberry crepe that trip, but Pearl's curse caused an immediate, and continuing weight gain that is still evident on my person. Bitch.
I would gladly stuff Pearl's mouth full of brie and duct tape it shut in hopes of suffocating her if I could bring myself to go north again. And really? Clank? Who has a husband named Clank? Pearl's prediction that I would gain back all my weight within a year hung over me like some mythical sword - waiting to drop fat from the heavens the moment I let my guard down and mistook a pound of sirloin for a veggie burger.
So now, I have to take all this off again. I plan to use Pearl for that too. They say living well is the best revenge. Perhaps, but walking into the the next family reunion a size 10, and then stuffing her face with brie wouldn't feel too badly either.
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