I Quit
Yesterday afternoon, despite having been fully caffeinated, all I wanted to do was crawl into bed.
However, that seemed to me to be defeatest, and I recognized the urge as originating not in fatigue, but rooted in the existential angst that comes from feeling one's time has not been well-spent.
So, I very quickly changed into my exercise clothes and headed out the door to the park. I met Liza's husband and kids there, splashing about in the wading pool (the kids, not the husband). Liza was at home, but Christine's house was only a block away, so I went there first to see how la bebe was doing.
The back of her head is squishy from blood pooling there. And apart from that squeamish fact, she has lovely long legs, and was happily drugged out on codeine.
So, we took her for a walk. We did two miles.
Weight is often a topic of conversation. I discussed the fact that despite small meals and rampant exercise, that my waistline is not receding. Everything else is coming along nicely. Christine told me how many calories she consumes daily. I would be dead.
If I gave up bread entirely, cream in my coffee, cut my morning slimfast to half, had no salad dressing, and no alcohol again ever, I might be able to achieve the results she has, and the remote caloric intake.
However, I am no longer willing in my life to do this. I spent a year in therapy discussing the fact that my feelings of self-worth should have less to do with my dress size (I discussed this with a therapist who was herself a size 20 [larger than I have ever been, by the way]who later went on Atkins and shrunk herself to a size 8. Do as I say, not as I do).
Despite my therapist's newfound svelte figure, and the fact that I am sure, via starvation, that yes, I could lose the weight, I made a determined decision this morning not to get on that bandwagon.
Granted, I ate special K for breakfast. Out of the box, without milk. Part of the reason for this, though, is that I got drunk last night (and called Karl while stumbling home, and then got online with Sarahspace) so I slept in this morning (I stayed up last night, reading in the tub until I figured I was out of hangover danger) so I was rushing to work today.
And I'll probably eat a salad or soup for lunch. I'm not saying I'm gonna go nuts or stop working out.
But dammit, if I want a Schmirnoff every evening this summer, I'm gonna have it. And if I want creme brulee or tiramisu at Il Spazio, I'm gonna have that too.
I am not Kate Hudson. Nobody is paying me $2 Million to be thin. If and when they do, I will certainly reconsider, but until then, I have bigger fish to fry.
And then I'm going to eat them.
Yesterday afternoon, despite having been fully caffeinated, all I wanted to do was crawl into bed.
However, that seemed to me to be defeatest, and I recognized the urge as originating not in fatigue, but rooted in the existential angst that comes from feeling one's time has not been well-spent.
So, I very quickly changed into my exercise clothes and headed out the door to the park. I met Liza's husband and kids there, splashing about in the wading pool (the kids, not the husband). Liza was at home, but Christine's house was only a block away, so I went there first to see how la bebe was doing.
The back of her head is squishy from blood pooling there. And apart from that squeamish fact, she has lovely long legs, and was happily drugged out on codeine.
So, we took her for a walk. We did two miles.
Weight is often a topic of conversation. I discussed the fact that despite small meals and rampant exercise, that my waistline is not receding. Everything else is coming along nicely. Christine told me how many calories she consumes daily. I would be dead.
If I gave up bread entirely, cream in my coffee, cut my morning slimfast to half, had no salad dressing, and no alcohol again ever, I might be able to achieve the results she has, and the remote caloric intake.
However, I am no longer willing in my life to do this. I spent a year in therapy discussing the fact that my feelings of self-worth should have less to do with my dress size (I discussed this with a therapist who was herself a size 20 [larger than I have ever been, by the way]who later went on Atkins and shrunk herself to a size 8. Do as I say, not as I do).
Despite my therapist's newfound svelte figure, and the fact that I am sure, via starvation, that yes, I could lose the weight, I made a determined decision this morning not to get on that bandwagon.
Granted, I ate special K for breakfast. Out of the box, without milk. Part of the reason for this, though, is that I got drunk last night (and called Karl while stumbling home, and then got online with Sarahspace) so I slept in this morning (I stayed up last night, reading in the tub until I figured I was out of hangover danger) so I was rushing to work today.
And I'll probably eat a salad or soup for lunch. I'm not saying I'm gonna go nuts or stop working out.
But dammit, if I want a Schmirnoff every evening this summer, I'm gonna have it. And if I want creme brulee or tiramisu at Il Spazio, I'm gonna have that too.
I am not Kate Hudson. Nobody is paying me $2 Million to be thin. If and when they do, I will certainly reconsider, but until then, I have bigger fish to fry.
And then I'm going to eat them.
sounds good to me! Where do I sign up?
ReplyDeleteOoo, fish fry? Where, when? Just wanted to let you know I hear you loud and clear, and DEFINITELY know what you're going through.
ReplyDeleteDid I write this or did you? My god did that sound familar! I stood up an applauded, really I did. I not only 110% agree but just recited this speech today before you even wrote it. If you can't enjoy that drinky-poo or that everything bagel with butter when you're craving it, what good is life? A size 2 doesn't mean you're gonna like your life.
ReplyDeleteOh, and as for Kate - I read about her "secret" - she works with a personal trainer 3 HOURS A DAY and has a personal nutrionalist to cook every single thing she eats. She even flew her "staff" with her to shoots. If I hear one more time how good she looks after her pregnacy I will chop off her head. Who wouldn't look good with 24/7 trainers and chefs?