The Weight of Weight

I mentioned this a little while ago, but I thought I'd get going. Sometime over the last year or so, my weight has crept up. It hasn't been anything drastic; otherwise, I would have noticed. (OBVIOUSLY) Oh, sure, I've observed that things that used to fit did not fit quite as well, but I could still get them on and thus continue the denial. I've never had to worry before. Don't despise me for writing that; I just got lucky that until my mid-2os or so, I had a great metabolism where I could eat more or less what I wanted.

Cut to over 30: No longer the case. Plus I can no longer exercise for two weeks and retransform. Ah, aging. For me, it's a combination of denial and poor habits. I don't eat badly, but I do eat too much of things. I've watched T deal with it for as long as we've been together, supporting him while silently, secretly thinking I was glad I didn't have to deal with all that. Well, I do.

The final straw came when I went to put on a pair of pants from the winter wardrobe and could not close them. I burst into silly tears, though T assured me that I wasn't being stupid or silly. He was lovely. Fortunately as well, we have many Weight-Watcher friendly cookbooks and recipes that I will now utilize in terms of portion control. Plus I have a great friend who's a personal trainer and she gave me suggestions and showed me all kinds of tummy and butt moves. She also suggested this wacky "no carbs after 1pm" idea, which I know is wise and right, but it's sooo hard to do. I didn't realize how many of our dinners, albeit Weight-Watcher friendly, have carbs in them. EVIL CARBS! So I have attempted to not eat as many carbs after 1pm, which is total crap and I need to step it up. I've gotten better about exercising and writing things down, which, I swear, is the key to stopping overeating. Seriously, if you know you have to write down everything you eat, you actually, shockingly, think about what you're eating before you simply shovel it into your mouth-hole. I'm also trying to do the whole smaller-meals-more-often thing, and with my 10:00am lunch period, that's working out quite nicely. Then I eat the rest at 2pm. I think my problem, too, is that I do wait too long and then I'm RAVENOUS and I overeat.

I haven't been 100% diligent for various reasons: I got sick. I had grades due. I wanted to sleep past 5am. Those things. And I swear, every time I start a new exercise kick/routine, I get sick. Is my body trying to tell me something? But I've done more, exercise-wise, than I have in the past, which is good.

I think it's all about control, and I'm also fortunate in that this is something I can control, if I so choose. In fact, my jeans feel a bit looser today than they have. I don't care if it's all completely in my head; it gets me motivated. I don't feel the need to get back to my college weight or anything; I just want to be healthier and to fit into my clothes because, as I've said and written before, I don't have money to buy all new clothes.

I realize you might not be super-thrilled to hear about my exercise habits, but it's just one more way I'm trying to keep myself healthy and gain control over a certain part of my life. It's a reality face-slap, and I'm willing to take the slap if it means I can get healthier than I've allowed myself to become.

Thus, when I go out to dinner tonight with Mom, I'll take care in what I order and skip the bread. Happy Friday, folks.

My Secret Vice

I can’t stand most reality shows. I think they’re mindless crap, exploiting the human weaknesses of voyeurism, cruelty, and stupidity. That, and since the first episode of The Real World on MTV (I refuse to link either of those—specifically because of what I’m about to write), the word “reality” has nothing to do with them. I think they should be called taped-live-carefully-controlled-utterly-contrived-total-lack-of-reality shows. TLCCUCTLOR shows. See? It’s too long an acronym. And frankly, when they come up to you asking if you want to be on The Surreal Life, you are one step away from performing on cruise ships, baby. Does anyone remember the episode of the Simpsons when they were in Branson, MO and saw the show “We’re the Celebrities You Thought Were Dead”? Note how many of them have actually been on The Surreal Life. It’s pretty funny…and sad.

However, my secret reality pleasure is…America’s Next Top Model. I love it. I watched the marathon over Christmas and couldn't get enough. All the drama, the flaring tempers, the different shooting locations, the wimps, the bitches, the beauties, the ugly ducklings, the transvestite runway trainers…. I don’t know why I got hooked; maybe because they don’t have the horribly embarrassing videos of the models who didn’t make it, a la American Idol. Is it the girl inside me who secretly loves clothes and makeup and pretty pretty pictures? Is it the voyeur in me who loves to see who they’re going to cut next? It’s not any latent love for Janice Dickinson’s overexposed cleavage. I don’t know why…I just love it.

Now, ‘fess up! You know you love at least one of them. Don't you judge me; you know you TiVo Wife Swap.