I hate being fat. I hate it every day. I get up and look at myself and the self-loathing starts from the moment my eyes focus on that horribly large shape in the mirror. Apart from the obvious problem of fat people being so awful that new research shows you shouldn't even befriend them, the reasons that I most hate being fat are 1) that your thin friends think you can sympathize with their "I feel so fat" moments because you are fat and understand what a miserable, horrible existence they would lead if they became as fat as you are - really, it's a fun conversation every time I get to have it; and 2) I have to hate food, which I love, because every bite is a condemnation of my inability to control myself and be wonderful and thin and perfect and desirable as a mate OR friend.
I hate being fat.
Now, many readers will recall that I have successfully beaten some of my fat only twice in my life - once with a little jewel of a medical miracle called Fen-Phen (damn you cheerleaders who got it taken off the market by using it to fuel your anorexia!) and once through the ice cream diet. I really love Fen-Phen (and consider buying it off foreign markets almost every day - to hell with my heart - I would rather live 3 thin years than 30 fat ones - who wouldn't?! Have you heard how horrible fat people are?) but the ice cream diet was much more delicious. Alas, I now live with small children who need to learn a balanced diet so I have had to restore my fat pads by eating a well-rounded meal instead of a nightly bowl of ice cream.
I have longed for a new fad diet and since losing the ice cream diet have tried a variety of wellness fasts that permit an evening meal, the "balanced" approach (what a bunch of shiz), and some cabbage misery I'd prefer not to remember. Well, my first London memory to share with you all is the latest in my contribution to the fad diet possibilities of the world: The French pastry diet.
I left for London as I leave for everything - fat, frumpy, and only pretending you can hide all of that behind a trendy jacket. I have been on Meridia (a new weight loss non-miracle drug) for a month and lost NOTHING, of course, despite a carefully controlled 1500 Calorie regimen of boring food. For the first few days in London, I continued along my path - carefully portioned high-protein snacks, a 250 Calorie breakfast, and one larger meal per day wherein I could eat no more than 1/2 of the portion presented. With all the walking, I felt sure that I would be able to burst through my setpoint and return home on the way to a more hopeful future wherein I could be my own friend and maybe get a guy with an education to like me a little.
Then I met "cake" - the English word for all pastry. I really loved "cake" of course. I'm a fat girl. Fat girls love butter and sugar in all their varieties. I intended to eat just one....but that became one a day...and rapidly one per meal. And so I said "screw you" to the diet and ate "cake" for at least 2 meals per day. I really have no self-control.
Now, Europeans love butter so the "cake" was not full of trans fat and fructose and corn syrup like the American versions. So, a piece of "cake" was quite filling. I would eat some fruit and "cake" and be quite satisfied. Sometimes, I'd have a bit of tea to wash it down - no sugar because European tea is sweet not bitter. In addition to all the "cake", I walked. I walked as far as my little, fat legs could toddle before my feet exploded from the tons of pressure shaking unpredictably above them (much less far than Cate, of course, who has barely 100 pounds above her knees despite the fact that I'm a regular exerciser and Cate started exercising about 10 days before the trip) but I waddled around most of London.
We walked over here. Then we walked over there. Then I puffed up some stairs and let my massive momentum carry me back down. At the bottom of the stairs, we walked to some more stairs - 414 of them to the top of St. Paul's - and then 100+ at the Tower of London. Then we walked across the Thames and through Westminster. We walked through Chelsea (7 miles that day). We walked the largest galleries ever seen (and I was only banned from one room for causing mini-seismic events - the British are so picky about those Elgin marbles). As the week wore on, I noticed that my walking clothes were fitting a little looser - I figured I was stretching them so I ate some more "cake" to make sure they didn't fall off me - I had no replacement gear.
I stepped on the scale yesterday because weighing yourself is a good misery-inducer if you've accidentally felt happy for a moment. I was shocked. I had lost 3 pounds even with the huge amount of water still pooled in my chubby ankles. I laughed. Leave it to me to lose weight eating "cake" but gain 10 pounds eating lettuce.
Maybe tonight I'll load some pictures...but don't get your hopes up. 3 pounds does not a fat girl un-make....at most, it just slows the jiggle a bit. I guess we should have saved the Elgins for the last day of the trip!
Musings from a pudgy dietitian who is liberal of politics but conservative in behavior, arrested between feminism and maternal instinct, complicated yet simple, flirting with humility but in love with vanity. In short, I am what I'm not, but I'm not what I am, which makes me... One Glorious Conundrum
Showing posts with label Tales of the Not-so-open-minded. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tales of the Not-so-open-minded. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
My current reality...
One of these days, I'm going to start blogging regularly again...I have much to say and I'm trying to keep the people in my life up to date. But for now, I am just going to give the answers to my exam below. I've included your grades in the comments....thanks for playing!
So, I'm walking down the hall today and obsessing about the relationship potential with the guys I'm sorta dating when I realized...the likelihood of my holding onto a guy long enough for even one of my concerns to be an actual issue in MY LIFE is so dismally low that I am achieving little more than problem solving some other woman's experience by thinking on anything related to relationships and current or future problems. I'll be lucky if I don't spend Friday night home picking at my toenails and complaining about General Hospital. So....no whinging "where oh where is my one true love" post here. Instead, I bring you something I wanted to do during finals week but was too busy taking finals to complete....
A Blogger-based Final Exam
A. True/False Section.
T/F Glo likes broccoli.
T/F Glo likes General Hospital.
T/F Glo thinks that romance on soap operas is (almost) dead.
T/F Glo escapes into soaps when romance in her life is (almost) dead.
T/F Glo just finished her BEST QUARTER EVER in school.
T/F Any true-false question using all caps is likely to be false.
T/F Glo plans to avoid looking at her grades until she is rejected as a doctoral candidate for her "poor showing in core classes"
T/F Glo thinks about quitting school almost every day.
T/F To avoid quitting school, Glo obsesses about GH.
B. Multiple Choice
1. The worst kind of professor is:
a. The megalomaniac who believes s/he controls the university
b. The egocentrist who believes only s/he stands to hold back the forces of ignorance.
c. The overscheduled who is never in the office during scheduled hours and gives tests so tough that your head spins while reading the instructions.
d. Whichever type is currently grading the test you failed.
2. Glo's favorite drink is:
a. Diet Coke
b. Rooibos tea because she is going caffeine-free by 2009.
c. Water
d. Coffee laced with alcohol
e. This is a trick question. Glo doesn't really exist. She's a figment of this blog's imagination and, thus, does not require liquids in any form.
3. Glo has returned to school because:
a. Her boss told her she had to if she wanted future promotions.
b. She wants to have children and "tradition" is passing her by.
c. She is tired of talking about vegetables and wants some diversity in her work.
d. All of the above.
e. None of the above. She is certifiably insane and wanted to torture herself.
4. In Glo's fantasy life, she is a:
a. Mom.
b. Writer.
c. World-famous philanthropist running clinics in underprivileged countries.
d. All of the above.
5. If Glo had all the money, time, and fertility in the world, she would:
a. Distribute it fairly among all the people of the world and shake her head in pity as everyone spent themselves back to their current level of poverty.
b. Become a doctor and work for Doctors without Borders.
c. Have 3 children and hire 2 nannies.
d. Retire in Idaho for 10 years to raise kids, animals, and co-write something fabulous, and then become a doctor for Doctors without Borders.
e. Get married, move to Idaho for 10 years to raise kids, animals, and co-write something fabulous, and then become a doctor for Doctors without Borders and eventually run the Red Cross while helping her children and husband to achieve their dreams.
f. Get a dog. And a dog trainer. And a professional dog-keeper to scoop the poop.
g. Write the longest multiple choice question in history.
6. Glo's biggest pet peeve is:
a. Being interrupted by phone calls
b. Being cut off in traffic (hint: this isn't it)
c. Traffic that moves slower than 10 mph
d. The fact that people can't just be who they are and find acceptance in the world.
e. Rich people who don't share or play well with others.
7. This multiple choice section has turned into a rant because:
a. Glo realized grades will be posted today.
b. Glo is feeling old and infertile today.
c. Glo has probably screwed up 2-3 more relationships in the past 2 weeks.
d. Glo has a no-caffeine headache
e. Glo wants more candy.
f. None of the above
g. Some of the above - depends on the moment
8. Glo's favorite character on General Hospital is:
a. Jason
b. Liz
c. Diane
d. Sonny
e. Sam
f. Edward
9. Glo's favorite couple on General Hospital is:
a. Monica & Alan
b. Liz & Jason
c. Diane & Alexis
d. Jax & Carly
e. Claudia & Johnny
f. Rick & Marianna
10. Question #9 has elements of comedy because:
a. Claudia & Johnny are siblings with way too much chemistry.
b. Everyone knows there are no "couples" on GH anymore.
c. There are also no lesbians on GH at present.
d. Rick & Marianna were just named "most fast forwarded" by an expert panel.
11. Glo has successfully avoid working for the past ____ minutes
a. 10
b. 57
c. 123
d. Trick question: Glo is a crazy-mad multi-tasker.
12. Glo is going to check her grades after she hits "publish"
a. True
b. False
c. I refuse to answer. I hate it when teachers throw in faux-T/F during the multiple choice section.
C. Essay
In as few words as possible, describe your reaction to anything on this post. You need not use grammar, spelling, or any known language. Write your answer in your head and beam it to me or use more traditional methods. You may proceed.
So, I'm walking down the hall today and obsessing about the relationship potential with the guys I'm sorta dating when I realized...the likelihood of my holding onto a guy long enough for even one of my concerns to be an actual issue in MY LIFE is so dismally low that I am achieving little more than problem solving some other woman's experience by thinking on anything related to relationships and current or future problems. I'll be lucky if I don't spend Friday night home picking at my toenails and complaining about General Hospital. So....no whinging "where oh where is my one true love" post here. Instead, I bring you something I wanted to do during finals week but was too busy taking finals to complete....
A Blogger-based Final Exam
A. True/False Section.
T/F Glo likes broccoli.
T/F Glo likes General Hospital.
T/F Glo thinks that romance on soap operas is (almost) dead.
T/F Glo escapes into soaps when romance in her life is (almost) dead.
T/F Glo just finished her BEST QUARTER EVER in school.
T/F Any true-false question using all caps is likely to be false.
T/F Glo plans to avoid looking at her grades until she is rejected as a doctoral candidate for her "poor showing in core classes"
T/F Glo thinks about quitting school almost every day.
T/F To avoid quitting school, Glo obsesses about GH.
B. Multiple Choice
1. The worst kind of professor is:
a. The megalomaniac who believes s/he controls the university
b. The egocentrist who believes only s/he stands to hold back the forces of ignorance.
c. The overscheduled who is never in the office during scheduled hours and gives tests so tough that your head spins while reading the instructions.
d. Whichever type is currently grading the test you failed.
2. Glo's favorite drink is:
a. Diet Coke
b. Rooibos tea because she is going caffeine-free by 2009.
c. Water
d. Coffee laced with alcohol
e. This is a trick question. Glo doesn't really exist. She's a figment of this blog's imagination and, thus, does not require liquids in any form.
3. Glo has returned to school because:
a. Her boss told her she had to if she wanted future promotions.
b. She wants to have children and "tradition" is passing her by.
c. She is tired of talking about vegetables and wants some diversity in her work.
d. All of the above.
e. None of the above. She is certifiably insane and wanted to torture herself.
4. In Glo's fantasy life, she is a:
a. Mom.
b. Writer.
c. World-famous philanthropist running clinics in underprivileged countries.
d. All of the above.
5. If Glo had all the money, time, and fertility in the world, she would:
a. Distribute it fairly among all the people of the world and shake her head in pity as everyone spent themselves back to their current level of poverty.
b. Become a doctor and work for Doctors without Borders.
c. Have 3 children and hire 2 nannies.
d. Retire in Idaho for 10 years to raise kids, animals, and co-write something fabulous, and then become a doctor for Doctors without Borders.
e. Get married, move to Idaho for 10 years to raise kids, animals, and co-write something fabulous, and then become a doctor for Doctors without Borders and eventually run the Red Cross while helping her children and husband to achieve their dreams.
f. Get a dog. And a dog trainer. And a professional dog-keeper to scoop the poop.
g. Write the longest multiple choice question in history.
6. Glo's biggest pet peeve is:
a. Being interrupted by phone calls
b. Being cut off in traffic (hint: this isn't it)
c. Traffic that moves slower than 10 mph
d. The fact that people can't just be who they are and find acceptance in the world.
e. Rich people who don't share or play well with others.
7. This multiple choice section has turned into a rant because:
a. Glo realized grades will be posted today.
b. Glo is feeling old and infertile today.
c. Glo has probably screwed up 2-3 more relationships in the past 2 weeks.
d. Glo has a no-caffeine headache
e. Glo wants more candy.
f. None of the above
g. Some of the above - depends on the moment
8. Glo's favorite character on General Hospital is:
a. Jason
b. Liz
c. Diane
d. Sonny
e. Sam
f. Edward
9. Glo's favorite couple on General Hospital is:
a. Monica & Alan
b. Liz & Jason
c. Diane & Alexis
d. Jax & Carly
e. Claudia & Johnny
f. Rick & Marianna
10. Question #9 has elements of comedy because:
a. Claudia & Johnny are siblings with way too much chemistry.
b. Everyone knows there are no "couples" on GH anymore.
c. There are also no lesbians on GH at present.
d. Rick & Marianna were just named "most fast forwarded" by an expert panel.
11. Glo has successfully avoid working for the past ____ minutes
a. 10
b. 57
c. 123
d. Trick question: Glo is a crazy-mad multi-tasker.
12. Glo is going to check her grades after she hits "publish"
a. True
b. False
c. I refuse to answer. I hate it when teachers throw in faux-T/F during the multiple choice section.
C. Essay
In as few words as possible, describe your reaction to anything on this post. You need not use grammar, spelling, or any known language. Write your answer in your head and beam it to me or use more traditional methods. You may proceed.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
Tell Mitt Romney I Want My Life Back
Last year, I was happily closeted in my religion. I'd toyed with the idea of going public but then I'd overhear an anti-Mormon discussion and quietly step back inside. I didn't talk to many people at all last year. It was no one's business who I was and I wasn't exactly a "fun" conversationalist until mid to late October 2007. At the earliest.
But then Mitt went and ran for President. And now I get to "answer questions" because it didn't take long for people to figure out that if I grew up in Idaho and went to Utah State for college - well, the odds were that Mitt and I must be church-buddies.
Here's the rub: I don't WANT to talk about the church. I get mad. I hate bigotry and I turn red and huffy and bitchy when I hear the false assumptions, outright lies, and mostly just narrow-minded stupidity people spout about my religion. So, I'm not very Christian when you attack me publickly and tell me I don't believe in Christ or hate black people or any other shit that YOU'VE decided must be true. That pisses me off. And I'll tell you so. In very non-Mormon language because the Church doesn't dictate who I am or what words I use...and don't YOU dare to tell me it does because you sure as HELL don't.....yeah, you can see the problem. I have a right to be me. And here it is, the 2nd of January, and I've already been accosted as I went about my Just Be-ing in 2008 philosophy.
It's all Mitt's fault. If he'd just been content in Massachusetts, then I wouldn't have to represent the church and Christ and everybody else. I could be happy hiding in my religious closet while going about doing good deeds without everyone else judging me as less worthy because I *gasp* believe in something beyond myself.
So, if you happen to be at the GOP, please, kindly, tell Mitt Romney I hold him directly responsible for the huffy conversation I just had with my coworker who DARED to tell me that I must not love Christ because if I DID, then I would take his (the coworker's) word for how I should live my life and what I should do with my Sunday morning and which prophets are real and how the Bible should be read and whether or not my own feeling are even valid.
Bullshit.
Oh - and Mitt - at the judgment day, I'm totally blaming all the swearing in this entry on you.
I really, really, really miss my closet.
*I realized some clarification may be needed: I love my faith. I love to talk about Christ, the church, and everything in between. But I hate my temper. And I know I'll lose it if someone begins the pretense of being an expert on my personal belief system or begins to condescend to me and feel that the poor little Mormon girl just needs guidance in order to be like everyone else. And since I can't keep my temper and no one is served by my losing it - I prefer to be quiet. My mom says that all this anger is natural - it's just part of the emotional turmoil of last year and it will fade and I'll go back to being nice, patient, and compassionate. In the meantime, it's really best if I just keep silent so that misguided people don't add "Mormons are hot-headed" to their stereotypical belief system. If you know your Bible, it should not surprise you that Peter and I are homeboys. I would definitely cut off an ear before I let someone I loved be taken from me - and I love Christ and the church equally. So, I'm not exactly the most reasonable & rational person when I'm told I don't love Christ and am not a Christian.*
But then Mitt went and ran for President. And now I get to "answer questions" because it didn't take long for people to figure out that if I grew up in Idaho and went to Utah State for college - well, the odds were that Mitt and I must be church-buddies.
Here's the rub: I don't WANT to talk about the church. I get mad. I hate bigotry and I turn red and huffy and bitchy when I hear the false assumptions, outright lies, and mostly just narrow-minded stupidity people spout about my religion. So, I'm not very Christian when you attack me publickly and tell me I don't believe in Christ or hate black people or any other shit that YOU'VE decided must be true. That pisses me off. And I'll tell you so. In very non-Mormon language because the Church doesn't dictate who I am or what words I use...and don't YOU dare to tell me it does because you sure as HELL don't.....yeah, you can see the problem. I have a right to be me. And here it is, the 2nd of January, and I've already been accosted as I went about my Just Be-ing in 2008 philosophy.
It's all Mitt's fault. If he'd just been content in Massachusetts, then I wouldn't have to represent the church and Christ and everybody else. I could be happy hiding in my religious closet while going about doing good deeds without everyone else judging me as less worthy because I *gasp* believe in something beyond myself.
So, if you happen to be at the GOP, please, kindly, tell Mitt Romney I hold him directly responsible for the huffy conversation I just had with my coworker who DARED to tell me that I must not love Christ because if I DID, then I would take his (the coworker's) word for how I should live my life and what I should do with my Sunday morning and which prophets are real and how the Bible should be read and whether or not my own feeling are even valid.
Bullshit.
Oh - and Mitt - at the judgment day, I'm totally blaming all the swearing in this entry on you.
I really, really, really miss my closet.
*I realized some clarification may be needed: I love my faith. I love to talk about Christ, the church, and everything in between. But I hate my temper. And I know I'll lose it if someone begins the pretense of being an expert on my personal belief system or begins to condescend to me and feel that the poor little Mormon girl just needs guidance in order to be like everyone else. And since I can't keep my temper and no one is served by my losing it - I prefer to be quiet. My mom says that all this anger is natural - it's just part of the emotional turmoil of last year and it will fade and I'll go back to being nice, patient, and compassionate. In the meantime, it's really best if I just keep silent so that misguided people don't add "Mormons are hot-headed" to their stereotypical belief system. If you know your Bible, it should not surprise you that Peter and I are homeboys. I would definitely cut off an ear before I let someone I loved be taken from me - and I love Christ and the church equally. So, I'm not exactly the most reasonable & rational person when I'm told I don't love Christ and am not a Christian.*
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Snark. It's what makes a Geek a Hero.
From NASA after the telescopic evidence was released showing how a black hole can emit radiation that obliterates neighboring galaxies:
Yup. That's why geeks are cool this year. I know now to avoid black holes....but I have to stop learning cool science junk and go back to wondering whether or not Spears women are really super-fertile, allergic to birth control, or just that D-U-M-B....this and other very Christian thoughts brought to you by "We fought the Feminist Revolution and All We Got Was a Stupid Wet T-shirt Contest" Incorporated - proud makers of futile products everywhere.
Tyson said there are two main lessons to be learned from what the telescopes have found:
"This is a reminder that you are not alone in the universe. You are not isolated. You are not an island." And "avoid black holes when you can."
Yup. That's why geeks are cool this year. I know now to avoid black holes....but I have to stop learning cool science junk and go back to wondering whether or not Spears women are really super-fertile, allergic to birth control, or just that D-U-M-B....this and other very Christian thoughts brought to you by "We fought the Feminist Revolution and All We Got Was a Stupid Wet T-shirt Contest" Incorporated - proud makers of futile products everywhere.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
How to Know When It's Time to Go Back To Work...
I've been in bed for 3 1/2 days with either a nasty cold or the flu. I can never tell the difference. For all I know, I had the measles, mumps AND rubella. One way or the other, I was sick. Yesterday, however, I stumbled on the official 'Get Out of Bed Now, Loser" stamp of wellness:
I commiserated with a character on Price is Right.
Her name is Becky. And her shirt read "Make me holler". I really didn't get that because Becky was, well, not night-life kinda successful, if you get my gist. However, I figured that ultimate cry of sexual desperation deserved my loyalty.
Becky knew the price of cat food, but apparently had shopped for nothing else in the past 10 years. I felt sad. She had a whole gaggle of midwestern daughters along and their simple goal was "to win a bedroom set."
Becky then hit the jackpot on the spin-off. I jumped a little in excitement. She hollered. Oh, yes, she did. And I half-expected her to rip that t-shirt off in unrestrained joy.
She didn't. I was disappointed. And I realized...girl, you need to go back to work.
I commiserated with a character on Price is Right.
Her name is Becky. And her shirt read "Make me holler". I really didn't get that because Becky was, well, not night-life kinda successful, if you get my gist. However, I figured that ultimate cry of sexual desperation deserved my loyalty.
Becky knew the price of cat food, but apparently had shopped for nothing else in the past 10 years. I felt sad. She had a whole gaggle of midwestern daughters along and their simple goal was "to win a bedroom set."
Becky then hit the jackpot on the spin-off. I jumped a little in excitement. She hollered. Oh, yes, she did. And I half-expected her to rip that t-shirt off in unrestrained joy.
She didn't. I was disappointed. And I realized...girl, you need to go back to work.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Gone Organic
There are two types of dietitians. Those who go organic. And those who roll there eyes at the Whole Foods Freaks. I'm of the latter type. I work with kids. Sick kids. Poor, sick kids. Organic buckwheat may be nice and vitamin-infusing, but, for my kids, Skippy peanut butter and apples are luxury items. I don't get to be picky about farm techniques - unless "cheap" and "available" are techniques. (Prepare for hot-button topic...) Since reliable scientific research has revealed no benefit to "organic" foods or those purchased in "whole food" markets, I roll my eyes in the general direction of the trendy.
But I'm desperate lately.
I've tried yoga, meditation, prayer, poetry, self-help, earth wisdom, astrology, tarot, tea leaves, and even talked to my angels. And it's a no-go. I get the same advice from all: seize the day, release your power, visualize your outcome, pursue your dream. Never surrender.
The same bland message from every source and I got to tell 'em something: it ain't siezed, released, visualized, or pursued. I'm at the same dead end I've been trying to escape for years. Meanwhile, every piece of my past is enjoying fulfillment, ecstasy, and the realization of my dreams while I feel lost in a life I don't wish to own.
I won't take it anymore.
I'll do anything.
Anything.
Anything.
To find a new outcome. Have a new kind of day. Correct the course. Because 2007 had damn well better be my year.
So, I am now following up on every lead from Dr. Phil to Star Trek. Without prejudice, I seek all information on how to have a happier life. If someone told me that dancing naked around Great Aunt Arlene while singing the Wonderwall Mashup would lead to self-fulfillment and longevity, I would plan a trip and buy a videocamera with pre-stamped envelope for FOX TV's Caught On Camera. I don't care how ludicrous, ridiculous, or embarrassing. If it gets me past this funk, I'm giving it the ole college try.
This new attitude led me straight to the Whole Foods Market. I decided to try the Master Cleanse* in order to purge the self-mocking hatred I've discovered sub-consciously lurking behind my verbal conscience. I picked up the maple syrup, cleansing tea, de-ionized salt, and massive water bottle. Then I went on a hunt for 100% pure, organic lemon juice.
*sigh*
You'd think that stuff was controlled by the FDA. I wandered the halls with arms aching from gallons of foul-tasting elements. Honestly - I think you must not have taste buds if you eat this crap all the time. Even the cheese was gross. How do you make cheese gross??!!
I tripped over an employee, who must have been severely stunted from trying to find taste amidst the green grasses his parents claimed to be dinner. "Do you have lemon juice?" I asked.
He pondered. And pondered. And pondered. Then left.
I sighed. Deeply. Another employee walked by. "Do you have lemon juice?" I asked.
"Whoa! Are you doing the Master Cleanse?" he asked in an annoyingly loud voice.
I felt immediately humiliated. Did he have to announce it? What if people saw me? What if they told the rolling eyes group that I'd been spotted in Whole Foods. My entire life of mockery would end! I'd be forced to eat lunch with the Whole Food Weirdos, chomping on dry spinach leaves while discussing the latest low-fat organic walnuts grown hydroponically in upper mid-state Washington! I wished I could hush him, but he was already spouting the supposed benefits of self-induced starvation.
"You need to press your own lemons. Otherwise, it won't work."
No way in hell am I wasting that much time on this? I thought. I smiled gently and repeated my question.
"No. Really. You totally need to squeeze the juice fresh each morning."
Well, now that you said 'totally', I mocked. "Thanks for the input," I said dismissively.
I found the lemon juice and snuck to the far corner, now completely paranoid that the American Dietetic Association had spies in each organic market and would be posting my picture on the Practical Dietitian Sell-Out site.
"Hey! Are you doing the Master Cleanse?!" the checker asked energetically.
My hell! How can this be my first in-time trend? How did I miss iPods and clogs but get the Master Cleanse? What does this say about me?
"You totally have the wrong tea," he added helpfully.
I grimaced. I'd spent 20 minutes choosing a tea. Unless I turn bulimic, there's no way I'm putting senna purposefully in my body. It's practically toxic. So, I had chosen a tea without toxic chemicals meant to dehydrate the body.
"And I think you meant to buy the larger bottle of syrup."
My lips pursed before I forced a smile. "I like the tea and I'll take the half-price syrup. If I make it 12 hours on this thing, it'll be a modern miracle of biblical proportions. Look for the burning bushes."
He laughed. "Okay. I won't mention the lemons."
I grinned back. "Already heard that. Apparently, I've got cheap tickets to the hottest bandwagon in town."
He shrugged and completed my purchase. I shuddered at the thought of video cameras as I left the store and wondered what the next 24 hours would mean to me.
24 hours later, I report: I have become one of them. I don't miss eating. I haven't craved good food or chocolate. I wonder when I became anorexic. I never stopped eating long enough to notice, I suppose.
Ah, hell. Next I'll start discussing the benefits of Rose Hips oil. Please. Someone. Pass me a cupcake.
But I'm desperate lately.
I've tried yoga, meditation, prayer, poetry, self-help, earth wisdom, astrology, tarot, tea leaves, and even talked to my angels. And it's a no-go. I get the same advice from all: seize the day, release your power, visualize your outcome, pursue your dream. Never surrender.
The same bland message from every source and I got to tell 'em something: it ain't siezed, released, visualized, or pursued. I'm at the same dead end I've been trying to escape for years. Meanwhile, every piece of my past is enjoying fulfillment, ecstasy, and the realization of my dreams while I feel lost in a life I don't wish to own.
I won't take it anymore.
I'll do anything.
Anything.
Anything.
To find a new outcome. Have a new kind of day. Correct the course. Because 2007 had damn well better be my year.
So, I am now following up on every lead from Dr. Phil to Star Trek. Without prejudice, I seek all information on how to have a happier life. If someone told me that dancing naked around Great Aunt Arlene while singing the Wonderwall Mashup would lead to self-fulfillment and longevity, I would plan a trip and buy a videocamera with pre-stamped envelope for FOX TV's Caught On Camera. I don't care how ludicrous, ridiculous, or embarrassing. If it gets me past this funk, I'm giving it the ole college try.
This new attitude led me straight to the Whole Foods Market. I decided to try the Master Cleanse* in order to purge the self-mocking hatred I've discovered sub-consciously lurking behind my verbal conscience. I picked up the maple syrup, cleansing tea, de-ionized salt, and massive water bottle. Then I went on a hunt for 100% pure, organic lemon juice.
*sigh*
You'd think that stuff was controlled by the FDA. I wandered the halls with arms aching from gallons of foul-tasting elements. Honestly - I think you must not have taste buds if you eat this crap all the time. Even the cheese was gross. How do you make cheese gross??!!
I tripped over an employee, who must have been severely stunted from trying to find taste amidst the green grasses his parents claimed to be dinner. "Do you have lemon juice?" I asked.
He pondered. And pondered. And pondered. Then left.
I sighed. Deeply. Another employee walked by. "Do you have lemon juice?" I asked.
"Whoa! Are you doing the Master Cleanse?" he asked in an annoyingly loud voice.
I felt immediately humiliated. Did he have to announce it? What if people saw me? What if they told the rolling eyes group that I'd been spotted in Whole Foods. My entire life of mockery would end! I'd be forced to eat lunch with the Whole Food Weirdos, chomping on dry spinach leaves while discussing the latest low-fat organic walnuts grown hydroponically in upper mid-state Washington! I wished I could hush him, but he was already spouting the supposed benefits of self-induced starvation.
"You need to press your own lemons. Otherwise, it won't work."
No way in hell am I wasting that much time on this? I thought. I smiled gently and repeated my question.
"No. Really. You totally need to squeeze the juice fresh each morning."
Well, now that you said 'totally', I mocked. "Thanks for the input," I said dismissively.
I found the lemon juice and snuck to the far corner, now completely paranoid that the American Dietetic Association had spies in each organic market and would be posting my picture on the Practical Dietitian Sell-Out site.
"Hey! Are you doing the Master Cleanse?!" the checker asked energetically.
My hell! How can this be my first in-time trend? How did I miss iPods and clogs but get the Master Cleanse? What does this say about me?
"You totally have the wrong tea," he added helpfully.
I grimaced. I'd spent 20 minutes choosing a tea. Unless I turn bulimic, there's no way I'm putting senna purposefully in my body. It's practically toxic. So, I had chosen a tea without toxic chemicals meant to dehydrate the body.
"And I think you meant to buy the larger bottle of syrup."
My lips pursed before I forced a smile. "I like the tea and I'll take the half-price syrup. If I make it 12 hours on this thing, it'll be a modern miracle of biblical proportions. Look for the burning bushes."
He laughed. "Okay. I won't mention the lemons."
I grinned back. "Already heard that. Apparently, I've got cheap tickets to the hottest bandwagon in town."
He shrugged and completed my purchase. I shuddered at the thought of video cameras as I left the store and wondered what the next 24 hours would mean to me.
24 hours later, I report: I have become one of them. I don't miss eating. I haven't craved good food or chocolate. I wonder when I became anorexic. I never stopped eating long enough to notice, I suppose.
Ah, hell. Next I'll start discussing the benefits of Rose Hips oil. Please. Someone. Pass me a cupcake.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
The Nightmare Before Christmas
All year I have guarded a gift certificate to a shop near the hospital on the off chance that I would get an unexpected present around Christmastime when the budget was well blown. That day arrived the Wednesday before Christmas. On my desk sat 2 lovely wrapped boxes from coworkers whom I'd neglected.
I grabbed my certificate, gloating about my own financial savvy and overall generous level of wisdom. I am a genius, I prematurely congratulated myself. So proud was I that I hummed as I crossed Sunset on a fateful afternoon.
The shop was located just a short distance from the hospital. It was a strange shop with eyes painted above the doorway. Not Bette Davis eyes but definitely bedroom eyes. Under-the-bed bedroom eyes likely to possess large claws that can rip out our jugular. Yet I was un-distressed. This is L.A. Your minister could have such a thing painted on his doorstep from the day when Night of the Living Dead filmed at his/her place.
I entered the shop mid-jovial hop and immediately regretted my Christmas savings plan. Dead in front of me was a painting of a doll eating a part of the male anatomy. Yeah. I so didn't think about that one. I just swung my eyes to the other wall....where 2 people engaged in homicidal lovemaking.
Blech! Ugh! Uck!
I was officially scandalized. I dropped my eyes to the floor and reminded myself that despite the artwork, there had to be at least 1 unoffensive gift in this store - even if it was just a discarded pen at the counter. I kid - the sign said candles so somewhere there had to be candles - I just hoped they weren't in the shape of....you know.
The book section nearly scorched out my eyeballs so I stumbled further into the store towards the toy section. Yes, yes...I was aware this was dangerous. Yet I tilted my head bravely as my eyes scanned....
Oh my laws! Is that really what I think it is?!
In abject horror, I stared dumbly at the guillotine doll "with it own fountain of blood" for "hours of endless entertainment." Shocked. Horrified. Disgusted.
I felt a tickle on my arm. I brushed at it. I heard a buzz.
"YOUCH!" I screamed as the bee deposited its sticker. My horror transformed into fear. I had never been stung by a bee.
What if I'm allergic? I thought in a panic. What if I swell up and die in this store? What if the last thing I ever see in my whole life is a picture of a beheaded children's toy spouting fountains of blood from a boney, jagged wound in it neck? What if someone has to drag my body out of this store and there are pictures?! Oh hell! What if my friends and family have to come in here and identify the body?!
At about that moment, I realized my rapid breathing had nothing to do with anaphylactic shock. I am not, it appears, allergic to bee stings. I drew in a breath of relief and laughed at myself a little. Then I grabbed a candle not in the shape of you know and a lovely notebook about famous women in history and their contributions (sans favorite sexual position - but believe me, I checked carefully before buying).
I felt somewhat smug for what I'd survived as well as my ability to be financially savvy this late in the Christmas game. Until I turned a corner.
The lightheadedness and palpitations returned. In front of me stood a woman and her 2 children. Purchasing. Christmas. Gifts. In this awful store. Her children were purchasing...I felt ill. Especially as the younger of the 2 sounded out Need free needles? Ask me.
Now I'm all about HIV prevention. Really. But at that moment, as my sister later quipped, I got stung by a bee and discovered my inner WASP.
I grabbed my certificate, gloating about my own financial savvy and overall generous level of wisdom. I am a genius, I prematurely congratulated myself. So proud was I that I hummed as I crossed Sunset on a fateful afternoon.
The shop was located just a short distance from the hospital. It was a strange shop with eyes painted above the doorway. Not Bette Davis eyes but definitely bedroom eyes. Under-the-bed bedroom eyes likely to possess large claws that can rip out our jugular. Yet I was un-distressed. This is L.A. Your minister could have such a thing painted on his doorstep from the day when Night of the Living Dead filmed at his/her place.
I entered the shop mid-jovial hop and immediately regretted my Christmas savings plan. Dead in front of me was a painting of a doll eating a part of the male anatomy. Yeah. I so didn't think about that one. I just swung my eyes to the other wall....where 2 people engaged in homicidal lovemaking.
Blech! Ugh! Uck!
I was officially scandalized. I dropped my eyes to the floor and reminded myself that despite the artwork, there had to be at least 1 unoffensive gift in this store - even if it was just a discarded pen at the counter. I kid - the sign said candles so somewhere there had to be candles - I just hoped they weren't in the shape of....you know.
The book section nearly scorched out my eyeballs so I stumbled further into the store towards the toy section. Yes, yes...I was aware this was dangerous. Yet I tilted my head bravely as my eyes scanned....
Oh my laws! Is that really what I think it is?!
In abject horror, I stared dumbly at the guillotine doll "with it own fountain of blood" for "hours of endless entertainment." Shocked. Horrified. Disgusted.
I felt a tickle on my arm. I brushed at it. I heard a buzz.
"YOUCH!" I screamed as the bee deposited its sticker. My horror transformed into fear. I had never been stung by a bee.
What if I'm allergic? I thought in a panic. What if I swell up and die in this store? What if the last thing I ever see in my whole life is a picture of a beheaded children's toy spouting fountains of blood from a boney, jagged wound in it neck? What if someone has to drag my body out of this store and there are pictures?! Oh hell! What if my friends and family have to come in here and identify the body?!
At about that moment, I realized my rapid breathing had nothing to do with anaphylactic shock. I am not, it appears, allergic to bee stings. I drew in a breath of relief and laughed at myself a little. Then I grabbed a candle not in the shape of you know and a lovely notebook about famous women in history and their contributions (sans favorite sexual position - but believe me, I checked carefully before buying).
I felt somewhat smug for what I'd survived as well as my ability to be financially savvy this late in the Christmas game. Until I turned a corner.
The lightheadedness and palpitations returned. In front of me stood a woman and her 2 children. Purchasing. Christmas. Gifts. In this awful store. Her children were purchasing...I felt ill. Especially as the younger of the 2 sounded out Need free needles? Ask me.
Now I'm all about HIV prevention. Really. But at that moment, as my sister later quipped, I got stung by a bee and discovered my inner WASP.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Sometimes, You Need to Confess
I just don't care how many people are in the world.
Seriously.
I don't.
Unless they're on my train. Or blocking traffic. Then I care about things like population explosion.
But otherwise?
Nope. I don't care. So, United States Census Bureau, you take your 300 millionth person and just tell them one thing - Glo don't care so long as they don't get a license to drive in Cali and/or ride the train.
Seriously.
I don't.
Unless they're on my train. Or blocking traffic. Then I care about things like population explosion.
But otherwise?
Nope. I don't care. So, United States Census Bureau, you take your 300 millionth person and just tell them one thing - Glo don't care so long as they don't get a license to drive in Cali and/or ride the train.
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