Saturday
Oct222005
Weight For Me
Oct 22, 2005
"What in god's name are you making!?"
"Cabbage soup!" I chirp while slicing and dicing mounds of sad looking cabbage and green pepper.
"Oh-kaaay.. What's in it?"
"Cabbage."
"Uh, obviously. What else?"
"Green peppers and tomato sauce."
"That all?"
"That's all."
"You eating it for lunch then?"
"And dinner. For every meal."
"Every meal today?"
"Every meal this week."
"What would you do that for?"
"Um.. it's good for me?" I respond hopefully.
"Not likely." The Surge studies my face as I scrape my veggies into the simmering pot of tomato paste.
"Well, there's that - and you're supposed to lose up to ten pounds if you stick with it."
***6 Months Later***
"What're you eating?"
"Granola and yogurt."
"Looks like rabbit food."
"Well, it's good for me."
"How?"
"Dunno, just seems healthy doesn't it? Hikers eat it and they're a healthy bunch. Oh! It's lowfat too!" I bark triumphantly.
***6 Months After That***
"What're you eating?"
"Sausage dipped in mayonnaise."
"What-?"
"It's good for me!"
"How can sausage and mayonnaise possibly be good for you?"
"Has zero carbs."
"But you'll clog your arteries by tomorrow! Ever hear of fat? Why don't you have some fruit instead?"
"Fruit's bad for you."
"Fruit?!"
"Has bad carbs. The kind that turn to sugar." I pop the last bite of sausage between my greasy lips.
***4 Months Later***
"What're you eating?"
"Oranges, strawberries, raspberries and papaya."
"For dinner?"
"Yup."
"I thought fruit is bad. You know, the sugar and all?"
"Nope, turns out it's okay, it's the good kind of sugar."
I had the distinct misfortune of entering womanhood when heroine chic became an oxymoron. Like a moron, I bought into the whole skinny fest lock, stock and barrel.
At the tender age of 13 I was twisting this way and that in front of the full length mirror I'd purchased from the nearest K-Mart for $6.99. I used the business end of my inaugural pair of platform shoes and, to my mom's chagrin, proceeded to hammer the mirror to the back of my bedroom door. Seventeen magazine and the stick figures contained within its glossy pages began a residency on my nightstand years before the walking hungry began gracing the pages of trash magazines like Us and In Touch.
And the brainwashing began. Slow and insidious. Photograph by photograph, article by article I began to believe the hype. Heroine chic. The two mismatched words now a happy couple cavorting happily together through Cosmo and Vogue. Thin was in, baby, and it was here to stay.
It happened overnight. One day I was happily playing softball with my pals at recess, the next I was inquiring "Do these jeans make my butt look big?" In junior high it was THE bonding ritual between preteens desperate to fit in.
"Omigod! I am like, soo fat!"
"Totally! Me too. I ate soo much at lunch!"
"What did you have?"
"A salad."
That is like, so bad for you! Do you know how many fat grams are in the dressing? And the calories!"
"I just won't eat dinner then."
"Just drink tons of Diet Coke. You'll feel full."
"Good idea."
Sounds silly, right? But at 28 years old I am still that little girl forever trying to pinch an inch. Constantly counting calories, walking the tightrope of to eat or not to eat. Don't eat breakfast then I can have a bigger lunch. Skipped lunch? Now I can have a snack when I get home? Better yet, avoid eating for as long as possible then binge eat my stress away after work. Can I gamble? No. But I can run numbers faster than most pros if they represent calories or fat grams. It's an automatic thought process, as inherent as blinking. There isn't an item that passes my lips that isn't calculated in some way, weighed somehow against what went before.
"Quit being so obsessed about food. You're such a drag." So says the boyfriend who can slam down two cheeseburgers, fries and a milkshake without gaining a pound and if he does it's a good thing. I'd like to quit. I want it to stop. I want to have Marilyn Monroe proportions and feel sexy, not chubby because I'm bombarded with images of Kylie and her barely there body. Truth is, if Marilyn and her world famous 36-24-36 physique was a starlet in today's Hollywood, US magazine would be sure to direct our attention to her fat ass encased in Armani AND point out that Teri Hatcher "Wore It Better" in the fashion section.
"Cabbage soup!" I chirp while slicing and dicing mounds of sad looking cabbage and green pepper.
"Oh-kaaay.. What's in it?"
"Cabbage."
"Uh, obviously. What else?"
"Green peppers and tomato sauce."
"That all?"
"That's all."
"You eating it for lunch then?"
"And dinner. For every meal."
"Every meal today?"
"Every meal this week."
"What would you do that for?"
"Um.. it's good for me?" I respond hopefully.
"Not likely." The Surge studies my face as I scrape my veggies into the simmering pot of tomato paste.
"Well, there's that - and you're supposed to lose up to ten pounds if you stick with it."
***6 Months Later***
"What're you eating?"
"Granola and yogurt."
"Looks like rabbit food."
"Well, it's good for me."
"How?"
"Dunno, just seems healthy doesn't it? Hikers eat it and they're a healthy bunch. Oh! It's lowfat too!" I bark triumphantly.
***6 Months After That***
"What're you eating?"
"Sausage dipped in mayonnaise."
"What-?"
"It's good for me!"
"How can sausage and mayonnaise possibly be good for you?"
"Has zero carbs."
"But you'll clog your arteries by tomorrow! Ever hear of fat? Why don't you have some fruit instead?"
"Fruit's bad for you."
"Fruit?!"
"Has bad carbs. The kind that turn to sugar." I pop the last bite of sausage between my greasy lips.
***4 Months Later***
"What're you eating?"
"Oranges, strawberries, raspberries and papaya."
"For dinner?"
"Yup."
"I thought fruit is bad. You know, the sugar and all?"
"Nope, turns out it's okay, it's the good kind of sugar."
I had the distinct misfortune of entering womanhood when heroine chic became an oxymoron. Like a moron, I bought into the whole skinny fest lock, stock and barrel.
At the tender age of 13 I was twisting this way and that in front of the full length mirror I'd purchased from the nearest K-Mart for $6.99. I used the business end of my inaugural pair of platform shoes and, to my mom's chagrin, proceeded to hammer the mirror to the back of my bedroom door. Seventeen magazine and the stick figures contained within its glossy pages began a residency on my nightstand years before the walking hungry began gracing the pages of trash magazines like Us and In Touch.
And the brainwashing began. Slow and insidious. Photograph by photograph, article by article I began to believe the hype. Heroine chic. The two mismatched words now a happy couple cavorting happily together through Cosmo and Vogue. Thin was in, baby, and it was here to stay.
It happened overnight. One day I was happily playing softball with my pals at recess, the next I was inquiring "Do these jeans make my butt look big?" In junior high it was THE bonding ritual between preteens desperate to fit in.
"Omigod! I am like, soo fat!"
"Totally! Me too. I ate soo much at lunch!"
"What did you have?"
"A salad."
That is like, so bad for you! Do you know how many fat grams are in the dressing? And the calories!"
"I just won't eat dinner then."
"Just drink tons of Diet Coke. You'll feel full."
"Good idea."
Sounds silly, right? But at 28 years old I am still that little girl forever trying to pinch an inch. Constantly counting calories, walking the tightrope of to eat or not to eat. Don't eat breakfast then I can have a bigger lunch. Skipped lunch? Now I can have a snack when I get home? Better yet, avoid eating for as long as possible then binge eat my stress away after work. Can I gamble? No. But I can run numbers faster than most pros if they represent calories or fat grams. It's an automatic thought process, as inherent as blinking. There isn't an item that passes my lips that isn't calculated in some way, weighed somehow against what went before.
"Quit being so obsessed about food. You're such a drag." So says the boyfriend who can slam down two cheeseburgers, fries and a milkshake without gaining a pound and if he does it's a good thing. I'd like to quit. I want it to stop. I want to have Marilyn Monroe proportions and feel sexy, not chubby because I'm bombarded with images of Kylie and her barely there body. Truth is, if Marilyn and her world famous 36-24-36 physique was a starlet in today's Hollywood, US magazine would be sure to direct our attention to her fat ass encased in Armani AND point out that Teri Hatcher "Wore It Better" in the fashion section.
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