A weird thing has been happening with my body. It’s taking a life form of its own and running with it. Well not literally. Running would be a good thing. I think this is something called Aging. It’s a time when the body literally shifts and morphs beyond any grasp of what you mentally beg it to do.
They need to make a pseudo-children’s book about this for women who have the attention span of a gnat, and honestly really don’t want to know anything more than if they are dying some weird tragic death. Large colorful pictures. Simple phrasing like “Silly Sally doesn’t know that her body is going thru changes, and that all the wishing in the world won’t bring back her twenty five year old thighs.”
I first noticed signs of it a few years back during the great Pudding Bag Boob Debate of 2009. Then one day I woke up and seemingly all of my fat banded together like some weird Fat Cell Convention, smack in the middle of my abdomen. That convention must have been a doozy, because the fat cells have continued partying it up like it’s 1999, ever since. I internally scream “Fat Cells! You’re drunk! Go home!” but they just send a message back up to the brain to order more pizza. So I oblige.
I’ve accepted the fat dissipating from the boobs, and traveling around the body like a leisurely cruise. I’ve accepted that my waist is – well, gone. But now? I should be gaining weight. My eating habits have become atrocious over the past year. I rarely cook for myself because it bores me, and I end up with so many leftovers, and I hate leftovers. My meal plans when I am not eating out consist of a). Whatever can be popped into a microwave, b). Eggs and Toast (because that can be cooked for one) c). Whatever my neighbor has invited me over, or d). Martini’s/Ginarita’s. Basically it should just read alcohol. Many a night I’ve just had alcohol for dinner. Moreso last year, but occasionally now too. That usually follows up with toast and not the clinking kind, because honestly there is little I love more than hot buttered toast. Especially when I’m a wee bit tipsy.
I feel like I’ve gained weight. Not in the fact that my clothes don’t fit, as much as I just have that yucky bloaty feeling, and the fact that no one can eat crap like this for six months and not gain weight. The fat convention in my abdomen has increased. But I’ve actually maintained the number on the scale, which absolutely baffles me, and secretly has me convinced it’s a tape worm or the big C. Except for the fact that the fat is still traversing thru my body to meet in the middle. I figure at this rate, in five years I will look like an Ethiopian child. I presumed the first time I weighed myself, anticipating a good 5, maybe even ten pound increase – only to be surprised that the number hadn’t jumped. I figured it was dehydration. I waited a few days and BAM same exact weight within ounces. A week later, same thing. I assumed my scale was broken, but I’ve had two people check it out for me, and it was fine. My daughter mocks me about my white girl problems with this issue. I tell her she will feel like crap when this disease that lowers the number on the scale, while increasing the fat cells on my body – kills me.
So if I’m not gaining weight but feeling like thick sludge, it must be that of which I shovel into my pie hole. (Which interestingly enough with my third grade eating habits, is not pie.) So this weekend my daughter and I decided to hell with this horrible eating, let’s make some life changes! We got everything. And I mean everything. A mini-mixer for smoothies. A high end food scale. Every fruit you can buy fresh, frozen, dehydrated, or seedling. Same with veggies. Enough Greek Yogurt to paint the house with. And loads of Quinoa. But most of all? Mutual motivation. It’s like a switch went on, and we were both on the same page. Which really helps, because the last thing you need a roommate to do is bake brownies, while you are trying to convince yourself that chocolate rice cakes are a wonderful substitute for cake. Last night I baked 24 little egg muffins which come out to something like 45 calories each. Today I brought broccoli and rice for lunch, and actually picked out the veggies, not to throw out, but to eat in lieu of as much rice.
I already feel better. I know most of that is in my head. It’s been less than 24 hours. But hey let’s not kill off the head cheerleader, even if she is delusional. I’m not saying I feel thinner, I just feel — well a little fresher. A little smarter. My ultimate goal is to feel healthier, but at the end of the day if I drop a few pounds before my cruise later this year, — then wonderful.
Just gotta keep that easily swayed, highly bored, Motivation moving …..