Weight

I’ve lost five pounds.  But let’s not get all celebratory, ok?  These are five pounds it took me about 32 total hours to gain, in a frenzy of throw-caution-to-the-wind weekend overindulgence, propelled by depression over not being with my kids for the “actual days” of Christmas, and combined with some bad decisions surrounding red wine, Super Mario Bros and cheese fondue.  In fact, would somebody please send me a message letting me know that I seem to have gained a little weight and they saw a photo of me from 2006 and BOY did I look good back then and what the hell happened?

Because you see, I live with a man who loves me.  And in theory this is a good thing.  It is a terrific and wonderful thing.  But, he’s thin.  He has, as his wise and clearly jealous sister recently said, the metabolism of a hummingbird.  I do not believe that he EVER thinks about the calories of any beer he may be consuming, doesn’t give another thought to the bowl of cheese curds and potato chips he likes to eat JUST BEFORE BED, and consumes his Knoke’s chocolates with reckless abandon. And NO, he doesn’t have high cholesterol or any other yet discovered medical problems which fat people love to use as a justification to say about thin people, “Oh, well then, it looks like all that unhealthy eating finally caught up with him.”  Jerk.  But, I digress.  Because he loves me, he likes to tell me I’m beautiful.  He claims not to have noticed the almost 15 pounds I managed to gain in the few years I’ve know him.  This is not helpful.  Sweet, but not helpful.  I’ve requested that he tell me I’m fat.  That I looked so much better in various photos from the years 2005-2008.  But, the most I can get him to do is stop offering me those fucking potato chips.  Sometimes.  Usually he offers them and gives me the puppy dog eyes.  One day, he even suggested (as I said “no thank you” to the 4,567th food item I really actually wanted), “Someday we’ll just be fat and enjoy food and not worry about it”.  Someday WE’LL be fat?  I doubt it!  Someday I’ll be fat.  FATTER!!

Listen, I know what you’re thinking.  If you’re fatter than me, you’re thinking, whatever, Gina looks just fine.  If you’re thinner than me and have to work to be that thin, you’re thinking, man am I glad I haven’t let myself go like that!!  Or, I’m never going to let myself gain these pounds I’ve lost (I said that once).  And if you’re thinner than me and don’t have to work for it, first of all you’re a TOTAL BITCH, and of course you probably aren’t still reading, because why would you be?

You know who you are.  And I don’t want to hear any of that “I’m lucky” business.  We all know you’re lucky.  Just shut up about it, ok?  You are this mutant, thin person, who surely must have an eating disorder, yet doesn’t.  Where, oh where, do you come from?  Take my sis-in-law Becca.  I love Becca.  I absolutely adore her!  She’s creative and funny and loving and a hundred million other tremendous things.  But dammit. Why does SHE get to consume large quantities of food (even late at night!!), drink like a fish whenever she feels like it and continue to be tiny???  Why???  Becca always looks great and never looks bloated.  Becca gets to pig out and have port wine before bed (I don’t know if Becca even likes port wine, but I sure do).  Becca gets to have dessert!  Becca probably even goes out for ice cream sometimes (ok, I happen to know she has this thing with dairy, but still...).  I hope that if Becca and my brother ever decide to have children, said children will mercifully get her alien-like metabolism.  Geez.

But I’m not Gerd and I’m not Becca.  I am Gina and if I eat whatever I want (or even just occasionally some of what I want) I gain weight.  So, I diet.  And as I diet, I observe others in the world who are successfully losing weight.  I ask them, what in the world is their secret?  Here are claims that are baffling, and frankly, pretty fucking maddening:

“I just drink more water and cut back on my portions.”  

What?  This actually works for someone?  Because the thing is, I am almost always watching what I eat and I’m always drinking as much water as I can.  Oh sure, some of you may have seen me in a weak moment, hovering above the cranberry/blue cheese ball at a party, with a glass of red wine in one hand and a mitt full of crackers in the other.  But for the most part, I’m saying no to the sour cream on top, going without the cheese (you think THAT makes me happy?), making buttered popcorn for the family and not having any and I have all but given up beer.  I am perfectly capable of gaining weight eating small portions and drinking lots of water!!!! 

“I went on the (fill in the fancy diet name) diet and ate whatever I wanted, yet lost 25 pounds!”  

BULLSHIT!  Nobody eats whatever they want and loses weight, unless they have a serious medical condition, in which case they ARE eating whatever they want, because they don’t feel like eating anyway.  Here’s what you didn’t do on that diet:  You didn’t stuff your face with roasted vegetable pasta, nachos and garlic mashed potatoes.  Because if I was eating whatever the hell I wanted, you can rest assured those things are on the list.

"I joined a gym/started running/hired a personal trainer”.  

Ok, while exercise obviously helps increase a person’s metabolism and gets us fit, is this actually all some people have to do to lose weight?  Because last time I checked, running 5 miles equals about the same amount of calories in a couple pieces of unbuttered bread.  I run, and the pounds aren’t melting off, folks.  I’d like to get all honorable and “good example” on you and say I’m doing it to stay healthy.  But the truth is, every single huffing, puffing, jiggling moment is devoted to trying to get pounds off this body.  What I really want to know is this:  How does the thin person get motivated to exercise.  Do you REALLY care that much about your health?  Because if I got up every morning and looked in the mirror on the way to the shower and liked what I saw enough to get into a bikini and wear it to Lake Nokomis or even in front of my own family in the backyard, I’d be filling up the cooler with beer and taking the day off.  I sure as hell wouldn’t be running.

Would I like to meet you for lunch?  You bet I would!  I’d love to have a veggie burger, smothered in pepper jack cheese, with sweet potato fries (and yes, I’ll be dipping into that aioli, thank you).  But, I’ll be having this:

Oh, and then, I’ll be hungry in an hour.  I’ll have my protein bar sometime around mid-afternoon and get a little depressed, knowing there is only one more chance to eat before that’s it for this day.  I will make a delicious, cheesy and garlic laden homemade pasta for my family, and sit next to them eating a bean burrito with a sensible portion of fresh fruit while they slather butter on the asiago cheese bread they are eating with the pasta.  Hours later, it’ll be getting close to bed time and while my stomach is growling from hunger, I will watch Gerd have his cheese curds and potato chips, along with his beverage of choice.  

That’s how I lose weight.  Fun, huh?  

Listen, I know that on many levels this all sounds, well, pretty shallow.  There are people starving all around the world, even in my own community, and this is my big problem?  I could have a whole host of medical issues that I do not have.  I’m lucky.  I ought to be ashamed of myself.  I am ashamed of myself.  But, let me tell you a little story...

Years ago, after the birth of my first child, I got sick.  It started as a cold and progressed, and I never went to the doctor.  I was busy gazing at my newborn baby!!  Long story short, I must have done some damage to my ear/nose/throat system, because I started having trouble with food smells and tastes and I couldn’t eat normally for a long time.  This eventually led to my becoming a vegetarian, but that’s a story for a different time.  During this time, we took a trip to the east coast, to visit my uncle and his family at the Jersey Shore.  I was trying to explain my food issues to my relatives (as we were attempting to order take out or something) and my uncle said, “Well, you don’t look like you’re missing any meals.”  Dick move, huh?  Now, while he was right, I didn’t look like I was missing any meals (despite the fact that I could hardly eat anything for a while), I was fairly traumatized by this event.  Years later, as we planned another trip to go out east to the shore, the idea of seeing my uncle actually inspired me to lose 20 pounds.  I’m not proud of the fact that his shitty, mean comment affected me that much, but I am secretly a little grateful to him.  And I looked great on the trip back there, I really did, but he said nothing.  His wife told me I was aging well.

What?  You’re not affected by what other people think of you?  Well, good for you.  

The long and short of it is that I love food. I love to eat.  I know people who could have a bowl of cereal for dinner and be fine with it.  Not me.  That’s why this feels like such cosmic injustice, this lousy metabolism business.

So, I’m going to get these 10 pounds off, dammit.  And then, I’m going to celebrate with a giant bowl of pasta and a glass of red wine.