Tuesday, October 18, 2005
jabba-the-girl
People have been discussing weight gain and weight loss a lot lately. And by people I mean me. And by discuss, I mean whine and complain.
Don't get me wrong, I know I'm not Sally Struthers obese. I'm not even Star-Jones-post-stomach-stapling fat. But I AM definitely not the same weight I was when I started college. I thought I'd lose most of the college weight once I graduated and decreased my daily Mickey's Ice and Pokey Stick consumption. However, what I didn't realize is that 40 ounces of malt liquor exist outside of Penn State. In fact, liquor is everywhere in California, so I can pick up a few at all kinds of convenient locations, like when I'm depositing a check at the local bank.
Really, its not the alcohol so much as the food. Sure, I gave up the Pokey Sticks and Cold Stone Creamery, but I exchanged it for burritos, In-n-Out, IHOP and Trader Joe cookies. I can't help it. I love food. I love cooking it, ordering it, going out for it, stealing it off of other people's plates, eating it and then leaving without paying the check, etc. Even as a child, food was a passion. Actually, scratch-n-sniff stickers and scented crayons proved to be hazardous for me; I went to the emergency room for "accidental" ingestion of a foreign object more times than I can remember....
But honestly, I can't blame the food. It doesn't force me to eat it. It's really about my lack of will power. If I want food, then I eat it. The problem is, a lot of times I want food, even if I'm not hungry. TV commercials are the worst, I end up craving whatever I see on the TV.
When this happens, my long-suffering boyfriend often tries to talk me down from the "food ledge".
"Honey, you don't even like fruit leather!"
"Sweetie, last time you ate that, you went into a coma for three days, remember?"
"Tai, that's not even edible. That's the 2005 starting defense for the Cincinnati Bengals."
I don't know what to do. I've heard hypnosis works, but I am definitely not putting myself in the clutches of a hypnotist. God knows what they would do to me. I know personally, if I were a hypnotist, I'd make the person pull down his pants anytime someone said the word, "inappropriate". So who KNOWS what a professional hypnotist is capable of.
I could get my jaw wired shut, but knowing me, I'd snap and start shoving Oreos into the tiny cracks between my teeth till I made an airtight seal with cookie crumbs and I'd suffocate within a matter of minutes. Seconds, if they were Double Stuf. (You may point out that I could use my nostrils to breath, but I have a feeling in that state of mind, I'd shove Oreos up there too.)
So what to do? I go to the gym pretty often, but you all know how I feel about that place. Besides, I usually end up eating a whole pie after I workout, just to get over the trauma I endure. (Like most recently, when I was forced to witness a 60-year old woman with the body of a 95-year old kiwi walk naked out of the shower. My. eyes.)
I could stop watching television to avoid the commercials, but then I'd have to read more, and I am determined to keep my reading level firmly at Grade 7.
Oh who am I kidding? I am on a one-way train to Kirstie-Alley-ville. Why fight it? Maybe I can even become one of those competitive eaters like Kobayashi. Or become one of the "before" models in an ab-machine commercial. Yes!
Mmmm, tv commercial. Now I'm hungry.
Don't get me wrong, I know I'm not Sally Struthers obese. I'm not even Star-Jones-post-stomach-stapling fat. But I AM definitely not the same weight I was when I started college. I thought I'd lose most of the college weight once I graduated and decreased my daily Mickey's Ice and Pokey Stick consumption. However, what I didn't realize is that 40 ounces of malt liquor exist outside of Penn State. In fact, liquor is everywhere in California, so I can pick up a few at all kinds of convenient locations, like when I'm depositing a check at the local bank.
Really, its not the alcohol so much as the food. Sure, I gave up the Pokey Sticks and Cold Stone Creamery, but I exchanged it for burritos, In-n-Out, IHOP and Trader Joe cookies. I can't help it. I love food. I love cooking it, ordering it, going out for it, stealing it off of other people's plates, eating it and then leaving without paying the check, etc. Even as a child, food was a passion. Actually, scratch-n-sniff stickers and scented crayons proved to be hazardous for me; I went to the emergency room for "accidental" ingestion of a foreign object more times than I can remember....
But honestly, I can't blame the food. It doesn't force me to eat it. It's really about my lack of will power. If I want food, then I eat it. The problem is, a lot of times I want food, even if I'm not hungry. TV commercials are the worst, I end up craving whatever I see on the TV.
When this happens, my long-suffering boyfriend often tries to talk me down from the "food ledge".
"Honey, you don't even like fruit leather!"
"Sweetie, last time you ate that, you went into a coma for three days, remember?"
"Tai, that's not even edible. That's the 2005 starting defense for the Cincinnati Bengals."
I don't know what to do. I've heard hypnosis works, but I am definitely not putting myself in the clutches of a hypnotist. God knows what they would do to me. I know personally, if I were a hypnotist, I'd make the person pull down his pants anytime someone said the word, "inappropriate". So who KNOWS what a professional hypnotist is capable of.
I could get my jaw wired shut, but knowing me, I'd snap and start shoving Oreos into the tiny cracks between my teeth till I made an airtight seal with cookie crumbs and I'd suffocate within a matter of minutes. Seconds, if they were Double Stuf. (You may point out that I could use my nostrils to breath, but I have a feeling in that state of mind, I'd shove Oreos up there too.)
So what to do? I go to the gym pretty often, but you all know how I feel about that place. Besides, I usually end up eating a whole pie after I workout, just to get over the trauma I endure. (Like most recently, when I was forced to witness a 60-year old woman with the body of a 95-year old kiwi walk naked out of the shower. My. eyes.)
I could stop watching television to avoid the commercials, but then I'd have to read more, and I am determined to keep my reading level firmly at Grade 7.
Oh who am I kidding? I am on a one-way train to Kirstie-Alley-ville. Why fight it? Maybe I can even become one of those competitive eaters like Kobayashi. Or become one of the "before" models in an ab-machine commercial. Yes!
Mmmm, tv commercial. Now I'm hungry.
# posted by yellow_mustard_girl : 10:44 PM
