Monday, November 30, 2009
Fat Blog- Day 686 (Thanksgiving reflections of a fat kid with major compulsion issues)
How was my holiday, you ask. Well, I ate so much on Thursday afternoon that my clothing hurt me. Later that evening I went back in for 2nd Thanksgiving and ate so much that I lapsed into a coma for the greater part of the evening; only to wake to more pie and a round of scotch. In between the spurts of gluttony was, gratefully, a fuck-load of family. I spent the entire weekend surrounded by the only people that I can count on to be free of judgment... but full of suggestions, recommendations and guilt, lots of guilt. Somehow though, it's fine. Everything is fine with a dollop of cool whip. Except when your brother gets lazy and buys Guida's whipped cream at the corner gas station instead of driving the extra half a mile to the grocery store for cool whip. Yet, that too, was fine...after the initial panic and empty homicidal threats
Truth be told, I don't much like turkey or stuffing or mashed potatoes or cranberry sauce or ham... especially not ham. My problem is gravy. Gravy is a worthy food foe to contend with because it's not acceptable or, more importantly, satisfying to sit down to the holiday table with a bowl of gravy. I need something to put my gravy on...something that would be lack luster without it... oh, how about a little bit of everything. Or a lot of everything... yeah, that sounds about right, hold the broccoli... it will destroy my gravy with that horrible broccoli taste. Even if by some miracle, of whatever diety that's responsible for such things, I was able to pass on the gravy, and it's various accessories, I'd be done in by coffee and pie. I can eat coffee and pie at any time, anywhere, before or after/or before and after my main course. Issues with mixing sweet and savory? I have no such aversion... unfortunately. I have no pie shut off mechanism and am wondering where I can get one installed. If pie needs me, I'm there.
I'm reflecting on my holiday choices (as the note title suggests) as I sip my low sodium V8 with a splash of sriracha hot chili sauce that tastes vaguely like shame and self loathing. I'm devising a plan about how I will avoid the fried on food addiction feeling next time. I am thinking about how last time I thought I'd devised a plan and this time I did too and how next time I will probably disregard it as I have this and last time. I am thinking that the previous sentence probably makes sense in some language... and maybe this one too. I am thinking a lot and not doing enough. I often wonder if acknowledging that I am insane makes me not insane at all but instead practical and self aware. I wonder if the "doing" part is not just exhausting, frustrating and over-rated as I have a sneaking suspicion that it may be and has been. I guess not wondering at all but hoping...because there is no sign of doing.
Due to the urging of several friends, I will be trying my hand at spinning... with the assumption that it is the same thing as cycling, which is offered at the second gym I am a member at but do not go to. I could also swim more, there is a pool at the first gym I am a member at but do not go to. The Tae Kwon Do studio, where I train, is where I should be now, instead of blogging about possible sanity and holiday consumption patterns. My Tae Kwon Do hooky playing will be followed immediately by me trying to talk myself out of a trip to Target for laundry detergent, kitty litter and lip balm. I will talk myself out of Target the same way I talked myself out of 7:00 am Hot Yoga, 9:30 am Yoga and the same way I talked myself out of Yoga last night. I am very persuasive because the alternative is frying up some leftover stuffing and topping it with a couple of over-medium eggs, it has a similar consistency to the gravy that donned my stuffing this weekend... over and over and over and over again. Mmmmmmmmm, V8 with sriracha hot chili sauce....yum.
So, in other words Day 686 is not much different that Days 29, 413 and 1. Food still is and will always be a struggle. Healthy lifestyles are somewhat relative in this country and I am sure mine is better than others' but by my own standards, which are impossible, I'm still not where I want to be. Luckily, I've been given another goal to buckle down for. I was notified that I will be testing for my black belt in May. I will achieve one of my major martial arts milestones just shy of a month before my four year anniversary of training at Ziwak's. I would like to lose 10 pounds and focus on my endurance for the next six months. The black belt test is a worthy test of both physical and mental toughness. The test lasts 6-8 hours and the material covered is, well, everything... everything I have been practicing for four years. I feel confidant about how I have trained but unsure that I will be able to translate that confidence into an acceptable cardio performance. I am confidant that I can explain the mechanics of a roundhouse kick but uncertain how sharp my jumping roundhouse kick will be after three hours of anxious, grueling cardio. I'll be leaving it on the floor with many of the beautiful friends that I have trained with over the years. The fat kid, the drama club nerd, the chronic team player that never wanted to be held accountable to star standards... is going to have to spend the next six months being a bit more conscious of what she shovels into her body.