Gluttony and Sloth
Yesterday, I was sitting at the Bobbi Brown counter debating the merits of “peach bisque” or just plain “bisque” under eye corrector. This raised larger life questions like whether I’ve got pink or yellow undertones.
The make-up artist was on the verge of a breakthrough (“it’s peach bisque!”), when I caught a glimpse of this sad women sitting in front of me.
Her slumped shoulders and long face said “stick a fork in me, I’m done”, while the all too visible bare legs that crossed over one another from beyond her red shorts exposed a thick slab of cellulite.
Clearly this poor thing was suffering from broken mojo.
I wanted to give her a hug and tell her that all she needs is a smile and to put some on some jeans or self-tanner until she loses 10lbs.
Until I realized the woman I was looking at was me.
I knew the scale wasn’t moving in the right direction. The signs were all there. My muffin top had been escaping over my jeans, back fat has been waving hello from behind my bra strap, while the buttons on my blouse have been straining, providing spontaneous peep shows of my between boob area.
Not to mention, when I suddenly see myself in the reflection of a store window or security camera, I curmudgeonly think, “you again”.
It also hasn’t been lost on me that when I interview plastic surgeons and derms, the word nutritionist slips into the conversation more often than lasers or Botox when the subject turns to me.
Worse, I belong not only to one, but two, TWO gyms. One of which is in my building.
I’ve been holding back about sharing this because I’m a little embarrassed.
Earlier this year, I made more than one promise that I was on the road to my best body ever. And there’s been no shortage of attempts; from my Dr. Nicholas Perricone egg white salmon detox complete with peyote like hallucinations, to Nike Fuel bands, and to me extolling the virtues of behavior modification (which I still strongly believe in).
But the reality is life can get in the way and make it all too easy to deprioritize the sobriety of mindful eating and exercise.
What I know about myself this. While I’m vain, I’m an also a practicing hedonist who indulges a little too much, a little too often. On many levels.
I’m also an occasional stress eater, depending on the stress. For me, right now work has been tough. Really tough. As in my boss who I loved, unexpectedly got fired, which created a lot of heartache, a lot of questions, but also a lot of opportunity, all rolled up in a Snickers Bar.
I don’t want to get into a body image debate, because the fact is we all have our own threshold of what good and bad looks like. For some, being 110 instead of 100 is a horror, for others being 175 versus 200 is a triumph.
Considering I’m 5’2’, and forty-five, good is anywhere between 115lbs to 124lbs. My reality hovers more between 125lbs to 128lbs, but I lose my nut when I bleed over into 130s, which is where I sit now at 132lbs.
Right now, I am somewhere between a middle aged Demi Lovato and Kelly Clarkson.
It’s all internal, it’s all personal and it’s all how we see and define ourselves at where we are in our lives. No, I’m not enormous and technically within a normal BMI, but I’m entirely uncomfortable in my own skin and that’s a problem.
Maybe one day I’ll be content to be put out to cuddly pasture, but it sure as hell isn’t today.
So what am I doing about this?
Weight Watchers is a fantastic program and it worked for me in my twenties after I put on a lot of weight in collage. I lost 45 lbs without starving myself and had the healthiest body of my life. I maintained for 10 years until I had a baby.
I think tracking is the key to success, but the meetings aren’t for me. I refuse the name tag and sit there in a hoodie, brooding while yet another person shares a recipe for a 4-point noodle kugel.
I was about to sign up for one of those food delivery services, like The Fresh Diet or Zone Manhattan, but it’s expensive (think $1400 for a month). I had tried this in the past with mixed success. The first time, I did it to prevent me from gaining weight while I quit smoking and succeeded on both fronts. The second time was in an effort to lose my post partum baby weight. I lost 4 pounds in a month. Not bad, but I bounced back up after I quit because I didn’t know how to eat with my new lifestyle as a sleep deprived new mom.
This time, I’ve decided to shift some of my dermatology budget into hiring a nutritionist. I’m not naïve when it comes to health, but I like people telling me what to do. I need structure, coaching and like the attention devoted entirely to me and my relationship with food.
My first visit is next week; so starting on August 5th I’ll be posting Trim Down Tuesdays where I’ll share my progress (or lack there of, because hey stuff happens) over the course of the next three months. And to inspire my butt to get moving, each week I’m challenging myself to a new fitness trend or workout (I’ve been looking for an excuse to try Soul Cycle, Barry’s Boot Camp, Physique 57 and Tracey Anderson).
This is an investment in time, money that I’m sure will test my discipline. I’m not sure what I’ll do with my hedonistic self (I like that joyful part of me). But if I come out in the drivers seat with a better relationship between my body, food and exercise, then it might be one of the best investments I’ve made.