It's Weight Loss Season!

We all got a little to ripe over the holidays, didn't we? A little too plump; it's time for pickin'.

Hey, I'm on that bandwagon too. Nothin' wrong with it. I did pretty well over the holidays, I suppose, but I'm still not getting on that scale. Nope. Not till two weeks. The Friday of the two weeks ending, because I always do the scale on Fridays.

Though I've been rethinking that. I always thought it was too obsessive to get on the scale every day, but maybe, to get that final 20 or so gone, I need to obsess a little more. I might have to work my way up to that. Start with two days a week and go from there. Because that scale certainly makes us more accountable, and that's part of what it takes.

Over the holidays I was watching some shows on The Learning Channel that were called things like "Big Medicine." Indeed. First, I love the irony of running those programs during the Season of Gluttony. If that's not a message not to reach for the cookies, I don't know what is.

These are the people at the max level of obesity. Piles of pale, rippling fat. Bodies that are bed-ridden, nearly unable to move. If these folks lie on their chests, the pressure on their lungs is too much to bear; the lungs might collapse, or they might have a heart attack.

They cannot bathe themselves. They cannot get out of bed to walk to the bathroom, and if they could, they would not fit through the door. The commode would not be big enough.

Man, you think when you're watching; there but for the grace of Goddess...

Television shows are created for one reason, and one reason only: to make money. No matter what lofty ideals might go into the creator's vision, it's a business in the end. Does that mean that all programming is created equally? Oh, yeah, sure, absolutely. A television show does not exist, if there isn't potential for it to make a profit.

Who profits from shows about fat people? There sure were lots of diet foods commercials during those shows. Diet foods that aren't good for us, don't nourish our bodies, and that are designed to keep us hungry and unsatisfied.

The lofty ideal is probably rooted in compassion. That we need to understand, accept, help, etc.

Uh huh.

You know, one of the men featured, who weighed in excess of 700 pounds, was filmed in his home with his wife. She was asked what her husband ate during a normal day. She seemed about to answer, when happy hubby interrupted and said "Now, you know I eat normally. It's not always about what you eat, it's your metabolism. It's wired into your DNA." That sort of happy crappy.

The camera panned through their kitchen, which was quite the mess, littered with pizza boxes, monster sized jars of Skippy, meal remnants, etc.

And I simply do not believe the guy. I can believe lots of impossible things before breakfast, but my faith falls short of eating less, exercising not, and weighing 700+ pounds. You'd have to prove it to me. I'd need a camera on that guy 24/7.

How do you get to that point? It's like there's a threshold, from being "morbidly obese," to "max obese." How do you cross that line? How do you crawl in bed one day, knowing it's forever, because your body has grown too big to move it? What kind of karma is it that you're living through?

My own body had started to have problems. I was more tired. If I stood for too long, the muscles in my outer thighs started to tingle, in a pejorative sense. Walking through the Metropolitan Museum of Art with my niece, my knee hurt so muc that I had to stop now and then to rest.

I thought my body was betraying me, because I'd always been so robust and healthy, despite the extra pounds. But it was me. I was betraying my body. I wasn't treating it well. Anthony Bourdain says the body is not a temple, but what the heck does he know? Treat your body well, maintain it, and it will do the same for you.

But I digress. Most folks at that weight never return. It's too hard. What's ten pounds gone when you have 400 to go? It's hard to measure success.

How does one get to the point of no return? I plan to never know.

Ahhhh....neglect of the blog has led to idle rambling on a Wednesday evening...
So, more of said idle rambling soon!

Two Weeks!

Ho Ho Hum.

So the holidays came. And went. And what do they bring but tons of food that I don't want to eat, but find myself nibbling on anyway? Food that makes me feel sick and bloated, but that I seem almost powerless to resist.

But I did practice lots of moderation this year. And thankfully, in my family, we have adopted themes for Christmas dinner. Last year: Italian. This year: Chinese. Yes, we ate egg rolls, veggie lo mein, stir fried snow peas, rice, etc., on Christmas Day. And we made everything ourselves except the egg rolls. So the dishes I made were plenty healthy, with lots of veggies.

Now Christmas Eve, well, that was another matter. Fabulous lasagna, salad, garlic bread...
and don't get me started on the wine and whiskey that flowed freely through the season...

So okay. It's now January 2nd, and I won't get on the scales for two weeks. Cop-out? I don't care. Two weeks.

But bravely, I did go shopping yesterday, hoping to find another of a favorite shirt that somehow sprouted a hole. No luck, but I tried on some jeans in my size (10), (and how crazy is that, to try on jeans on New Year's Day?!) and they still fit quite well. *Insert sigh of relief here!*

My indulgences are getting fewer. It's simple: I don't feel as well when I eat poor quality food. It weighs me down, literally and figuratively.

More soon...

Emaciatrix!

I was reading a review about the upcoming film Atonement by Kyle Smith for the New York Post (http://kylesmithonline.com/?p=736) in which he refers to Keira Knightly as an Emaciatrix. His exact quote:

Emaciatrix Keira Knightley, who is getting thinner with each role and is on track to disappear entirely by 2013

The term is new to me, but seems destined to work its way into the vernacular.

She's absolutely gorgeous. Who wouldn't want to look like her? And I can practically hear all the studio execs saying "Lose weight. Get thinner. The thinner you are, the bigger star you'll become." This to a woman who had a beautiful figure to begin with. Just watch Bend It Like Beckam to see how fat she wasn't.

Is it the execs fault that we worship The Stick?

I wish I could follow her around for a day and see what she eats. Jennifer Annistion, Angelina Jolie, all of 'em. Make it a week. One week to track their food intake.

To be continued...work beckons!

20 pounds is a lot!

Sunday evening...just finished half an hour on the rebounder. I was using ten pound dumb bells, and, dayum, they're heavy!

"Wow," I thought, "I can't remember what it felt like to have an extra twenty pounds on my body, but it must have been heavy."

That extra twenty pounds was work. I only used them for ten minutes, then reverted to the five pound weights.

I don't miss that twenty pounds.

I don't miss the gym, either. Saturday morning I sat at St. Sebastian with my mug of cappuccino, perched in the window seat, reading Atonement and listening to soft conversations around me. I also worked a bit on the poem I'm writing for Cassandra's wedding. I think I'll make this a Saturday morning ritual for now, because it felt so good. And I think I'll work on my novel there.

In fact, I think it would be lovely to find a way to sit there happily many mornings, blissfully working on my novel. Hmmm...

I want Angelina Jolie's body...

...in 15 minutes a day. Not her real body, because she's starting to look really scrawny (though still gorgeous). But her fake body in Beowulf.

15 minutes. Not enough? I'll go 30. No, seriously, 60 minutes a day, 4-6 days a week. No pressure, because you have to have a day off now and then or it screws up your whole system. Yes? I vote yes.

60 minutes a day of exercise is a big commitment. I'm not an athlete. I don't really want to be an athlete, but I wouldn't mind looking like one. In these times, it's a pretty fun body to have, or so they say. That's what every television commercial says: hard, thin bodies are the ones that are having fun.

I've thought a lot this weekend about my decision to stop going to the gym. I don't feel guilty at all. I don't feel like a failure. I am so happy to have made that decision. I love to exercise in my own space, at my own pace. I love exercise when it's something that brings me in touch with who I am, when it reveals my own secrets to me. I like peaceful exercise. And the gym was robbing me of that experience. Everything about the gym is loud. Peace is so much better. So I feel really happy about making the right decision.

This has been a wonderful weekend. My friends Joyce, Timberli, Bryan and myself won a little over $450 on some lottery tickets. We were sitting in a local pub, ready for lame small town comedy night, scratching away...and Joyce looked at me and said "This is a $400 ticket." It was like I didn't hear it at first, it didn't completely compute. I said "Yeah, look I think this is a $50 card."

It was limbo for just a sec, and Timberli came to the table. I said "Hey, we just won $400! Well, $450!"

And the celebration commenced! I feel very lucky, and, at the end of this long busy Thanksgiving weekend, I feel thankful. For family, for friends, for good fortune and abundance. Luck is a cool, funny, mysterious thing. Four of us got a lovely piece of luck this weekend. I'm thrilled for all of us, and I think with proper appreciation for our good fortune, we will find even more good luck coming our way. And I for one am thankful.

My landlord died today. I'll miss him; he was a very good man. I've been missing him for a while, because Alzheimer's has been destroying his mind for years. Best of luck on your new journey, Mr. K.

I Hate the Gym

Well, it's more precise to say I hate going to the gym.

I love exercise. It's part of my life now.

But going to the gym. It took entirely too much of my time. Yes, I used past tense, because I'm not going any more. It was a huge weight off my shoulders when I was home yesterday, the Friday after Thanksgiving, having blown off going to the gym, when I realized, you know what? There's nothing compelling me to go. I want to be at home. I want to do yoga and watch the cats. I want to work on a poem I'm writing as part of a friend's wedding gift. I don't have to go! So I'm not gonna go! I'm free!

Felt good.

At the end of the work day, driving 25 minutes to the gym, working out for an hour when the trainer would have loved two, driving home another half hour...I was lucky to have dinner by 7. It left me so little time in the evening for myself.

And...at the gym, you can't find your own head-space. I know that sounds like some kind of 70's hippy jargon, but it's true. Too many people, too many TVs, too much erratic energy. At home, I'm relaxed, I am in my own space, with my own voice...

I love that.

My work out is so much better when it's peaceful.

Today I rose early, did some yoga, worked with some weights, tortured my abs, had a lovely shower...went to the cool little coffee shop I frequent on Saturdays, sat in the window with my cappuccino and novel, flirted with a cute guy a little bit...ahhhhh....