It seems like I eat perfectly well until I try to, and then I sabotage myself. Maybe if we do it together? How about we hold each other accountable? Are you in!?
The funny thing is, I am such a healthy eater. The darker green something is, the more I like it. Lean protein – I don’t really like red meat. I’m not and have never been into sweets – or sugar at all for that matter. I take my espresso with a splash of milk.
So why have I battled with my weight my whole life? Much of it is mental, I know – it’s depression, anxiety, eating to fill a void. More recently, though, it’s been “Oh, you want to make a conscious effort to eat well?!” THWARTED!!
With the sudden, unexpected loss of my mother’s partner in the early hours of this morning, I have been forced to step back and reconsider the frailty of life. Even with the occasional tension between the two of us (perhaps for the competition for my mother’s attentions) and my distaste for some of his mannerisms, he took wonderful care of my mother over their too-short chapter. He was a good man.
I had just seen him on Monday. Apart from the normal ailments of a man in his 60’s (and even lesser, given his rigorously physical work-life) and those of a smoking man whom would have benefited from a healthier lifestyle (that my mother tried to give to him), he had no complaints. I suppose what I mean to say is, even with the cigarettes and lackluster food-choices, he showed no overt signs of heart disease or extraordinary issues with his lungs (for instance, like my own father’s emphysema).
And yet still
last night he closed his eyes
and this morning he was no longer;
As of late, I’ve been noticing just how much advertising there is for fast food joints, especially on television. Every third commercial is for greasy, processed foods. I think it’s really tragic, and, frankly, rather annoying…
You walk into the gym and they have to scan your membership card. Inevitably, you have to interrupt a conversation to get one of the juiced up trainers to notice you.
I mean, don’t get me wrong. I actually prefer they don’t notice me. It’s those blissful times when they are so busy flirting with the girl in the spandex hot pants that I slip by unseen that I am most happy.
when I go to the gym
I want to be invisible–
As a senior in high school I moved to Italy to live with a family. Before moving there, I had many preconceived notions about Italian culture and what the Italian lifestyle was like. Having always had problems with my weight fluctuating, I worried slightly over the abundance of pasta dishes and massive meals.
A handful of times, as a youngster, I had been to Italy (and around Europe) to visit my expatriate aunt and uncle during summer vacations, so I had some idea of what my time in Europe would entail. I also seemed to remember, however, that regardless of the elaborate meals, I always seemed to lose weight on these short vacations, so I wasn’t obsessing over avoiding (host) family meals like the plague. Continue reading