Friday, August 26, 2011

In Case of Emergency.........

I just clipped 2 articles from a current magazine. One is a diet guaranteed to drop 5 pounds off my body in a weekend. The other is a recipe for a 6 minute pecan pie. ---Erma Bombeck

An older essay, and just a little reminder to myself because that quote up there? Uh, yeah, it's SO me...........

Only about five percent of the people who lose weight on a diet manage to keep it off. Most will gain back the unwanted pounds within the first five years. Oh, good god of the almighty vegans, where is Kevorkian when you need him?! I did not go through almost a year of counting points, measuring out exactly one tablespoon of chocolate chips, fighting my way to the top of my Wii Fit Super Hula Hoop challenge, and enduring the most inhumane torture of all, stepping on a scale in front of another living being, for naught. I do not intend to be one of those ninety-five percent who regain that lost weight.

There is a certain pride a middle-aged mother of four takes in being checked out for the first time in years, even if it is in J. C. Penney. Forty pounds off a five-two frame represents enough difference apparently to warrant a second look. I am not giving this up. I am middle-aged, for Pete’s sake, not clawing at the coffin. All those years spent raising my children had me immersed in the whole mothering scene, negligent of my own appearance or needs. I’m ok with that. I can’t change what I’ve already done, but I sure as heck can put the brakes on said behavior in the future.

So in an effort to stay in the top five, keep my backend in my size six boot cuts, and steer clear of the granny panty aisle, I have declared a boycott on the following foods. You should know that there was a time when all of these may have shown up on a single day’s menu. And that still may happen, especially on that day when I open my email to see the tuition bill, this after the dog has thrown up cat crap following his litter box binge, my twelve year old who had no homework decides at ten p.m. that, oh, yes, indeed she did, and all the wrinkle creams in the world are not covering up the fact that no matter what my brain believes, my face, in fact, is just this side of fifty.
Foods I have locked in a little box in my closet marked “In case of emergency”:

• Monster size bowls of trail mix
• Deep dish cheese-less pizza from Chicago’s famous Giordano’s
• Purely Decadent Cherry Nirvana with chocolate chips, bananas, and nuts
• One of those huge baking pans of cheese alternative and veggie loaded vegan lasagna
• My own homemade double fudge chocolate chip brownies
• Bags and bags of original Fritos (one of my students said that, chemically speaking, Fritos are possibly the absolute worse food a person could eat………….he failed that class)
• My Starbuck’s venti green tea soy latte (but I keep the grande close at hand……… know, for those little emergencies that are just a part of life)

I’d like to say that I’m breezing through my days now in a wistful sort of way, oblivious to the dietary change that shows itself on my plate. I’d like to say that my choices are more a matter of habit than excruciating planning involving much discussion on the part of the voices in my head, not unlike what might happen at one of those inane board meetings only here I am the only one present. But a confession like this, my friends, would be a flat out lie. Work. It is always work. When I was fat I thought about nothing but food. Now that I am thin, I think about nothing but food. Well, you know, a few other things, but mostly food.

And why, you may be itching to know, do I bother? I bother because I have been many times in that ninety-five percent. I have felt the thrill of victory, or of a second glance, only to return to that granny panty drawer. I bother because I am no fun when I am fat. I am tired and crabby and totally obsessed with food and not conversation. I bother because I want to continue to be a mother for a long time and not die at an early age--because, you know, that could still happen, it is still early--from some obesity related disease. I bother because I have decided that I count, darn it, and that I actually like myself, and that I’d like to continue liking me for quite a long time.

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