Thursday, May 19, 2011

The Cost Per Pound

Lately I’ve been trying to lose the 10lbs that I’ve been trying to lose (sort of....) for 3 years. This time I’m seriously trying to lose them. I just ate 2 carrots and pretended that they were delicious. While watching The Wire I considered the calorie content of crack cocaine. I am on my own personal running tour of Prospect Park. My dieting mojo is back! I’m even joking about writing a diet book, selling it to a publisher and getting rich. To that end I’ve decided to write up a few of my unique diet tips! If you’re looking to lose a few pounds and you have a lot of internalized guilt about actually doing the things you tell yourself that you’re going to do please feel free to take my advice. If you’re a book publisher with an advance check signed and ready to go please, call me. If you’re a skinny girl with no need for diet tips, have a red velvet cupcake for lunch in honor of all of us who must eat spinach salad.

How much would you pay to lose weight? Think about this number in as many ways as possible. How much per month? How much per day? How much per pound? It probably won’t cost that much (“Listen here little lady, I can get you a good deal on some weight loss!”)... but it will cost something.

I just bought an $11 salad on my way to the office. $11 for a salad is borderline ridiculous (Thank you Dean and Deluca). I could have put together the same collection of greens and goat cheese and tomatoes for under $5. But I didn’t. Instead, I dragged myself home from a business meeting last night and collapsed into bed with my migraine and a cold compress. I got up earlier than I’d like (but later than almost every other working schlub I know so I’ll shut up about my 7:30am alarm) and headed off to another business meeting over breakfast where I certainly could have mentally justified bacon and eggs but somehow managed to order the oatmeal.

That $11 salad is the cost of my diet today. I could have had a $3 hamburger or a $7 pint of udon. But I am not paying $11 for mesclun and vinaigrette but for the knowledge that its sitting in my work refrigerator and that it probably only has 300-400 calories which is certainly all I can afford on a day with no time for a run. $11 is a steal.

This same philosophy applies to snacks.

At 3pm everyday I want a treat. Usually, I have done very little to deserve a treat. Usually, I ate lunch a mere 2 hours ago. Usually, I am sitting at my desk opening and closing the top drawer in hopes that the chocolate fairy paid me a visit over night. Thankfully he has not. I long ago learned that 3pm discussions between my mind and my belly, (“You’re not even hungry! Shut up!” “FEEEEEEEED ME! ME WANT COOKIES.”) are wholly nonproductive and that 3pm treats are a necessity -- some food stuff must pass my lips and this food stuff better feel special.

Normally, I refuse to pay $3 for 10 ounces of coconut water. Normally, I only allow myself one Starbucks visit a week. Normally, I try to conquer 3pm with a piece of fruit brought from home. But The Dieting 3pm won’t stand for this cheap-ass regimented shit. The Dieting 3pm has barely recovered from giving up the top slice of bread on her tuna fish sandwich. She’s already planning on ordering vodka and soda water at tonight’s happy hour even though the weather is just right for a margarita.

Sometimes my 3pm treat is a walk to the corner store followed by 10mins of reading the ingredients on food labels only to settle on a yogurt that I could have just brought from home. Sometimes its a whole container of raspberries even though they cost $6. Sometimes its 2 chocolate truffles from the little shop that looks like it fell right out of France (which would at least sort of explain how they justify $3 per chocolate). All of the choices would normally have me rolling my eyes over the cost but not today

In my effort to lose weight something has to give. Because I am a lucky, lucky person who, thank god, has enough extra money lying around to make the choice to spend cash in exchange for losing weight I do just that. I let myself spend in exchange for not letting myself eat. Usually it works.

Monday, May 09, 2011

Signs That Your Episode of 16 and Pregnant is Not Going Well

( A list of for real things that have actually happened on this actual show)

  • You’re 16. And pregnant.
  • One of the cute-sie comic strips that bracket each commercial break portrays you preggers and smoking.
  • While you’re in labor your baby daddy asks you to scoot over because you are taking up the whole hospital bed.
  • When your doctor asks if you have any questions about the birth or taking care of the baby your only thought is about how to get rid of stretch marks.
  • While you’re in labor your baby daddy gets in a fight with your mom and storms out.
  • Someone gets arrested
  • Your parents are REALLY HAPPY about the way things are going -- having a child who is having a baby at 16 is basically like winning the lottery to them. This is creepy.*
  • Your baby daddy arrives to the birth drunk/hungover
  • During the airing of your episode MTV includes 2 PSAs (the standard “Don’t have babies at 16 you idiot!!!” PSA and a bonus “If your boyfriend punches you in the face you should for sure break up.” PSA)
  • You’re 16 and pregnant. With twins.


* On that note why have I seen only *ONE* episode where the parents of this knocked up 16 year old are totally bummed out about the whole ordeal? I suppose some parents are applying “fake it til you make it” to grandparenthood and that if a baby is coming clearly you should/will love it but.... still.... If my teenager was birthing out some young-ins I think I’d be a just a tiny bit suicidal/homicidal until at least the day when my cute grandchild shows up.

Wednesday, May 04, 2011

Be the Bitch. The Skinny Bitch.

Lately I’ve been trying to lose the 10lbs that I’ve been trying to lose (sort of....) for 3 years. This time I’m seriously trying to lose them. I downloaded an iPhone app to record my food intake (Lose It!). I have gotten a little OCD about the number of calories in grapes. I have started to feel a little give in the waist of my sexy jeans. My dieting mojo is back! I’m even joking about writing a diet book, selling it to a publisher and getting rich. To that end I’ve decided to write up a few of my unique diet tips! If you’re looking to lose a few pounds and you’re brain is broken in the same way as mine please feel free to take my advice. If you’re a book publisher with an advance check signed and ready to go please, call me. If you’re a skinny girl with no need for diet tips, fuck you.

Be the Bitch. The Skinny Bitch.

I’m normally an advocate for humbleness and benefit of the doubt. A fan of putting myself in someone else’s shoes. An annoying devil’s advocate. But when it comes to dieting I embrace my sanctimonious, self-righteous, inner mean girl. Sometimes it’s the only way to keep cookies from my lips (and subsequently,as the cliche goes, my hips).

Next time you want to gobble up a Big Mac/pint of coffee ice cream/stick of butter look around and find yourself a fat person (I last did this in the Detroit airport where it is shockingly easy). Now, start being a horrible person in your head. Think about how much that person must eat. How much they must weigh. How many pieces of fried chicken it must take to get that big. Think about their lack of will power. Think about the heart attack they will have at 45. Think about how hard it must be to find size 22 jeans in anything other than acid wash (with pleats, natch).

Your nice-girl reflexes may buckle at this torrid stream of meanness but you must punch that nice girl in her chunky stomach, and while she’s on the floor trying to catch her breath, persevere in your quest to (secretly, just in your head) be a total bitch.

Think about how much better you are than old Fatty Flab over there. How many times you take apple slices over cake slices. How many times you forgo butter on your toast. How often you sit hungry at your desk at 3pm wishing and hoping that a Take 5 bar might land in your lap but resisting the walk to the corner store. Your willpower is amazing! On vacation in Europe no one can use the size of your ass to guess your nationality. You are thin. You are powerful. You will have a green salad and a side of a nice broth-based soup for lunch, thank you very much.

There will be plenty of time later to feel guilty. To remind yourself that you are no better than most other people. That life isn’t fair and that some folks have really good reasons for saying,“fuck it” to healthy choices (because sometimes a cookie is the only comfort we have). There will be plenty of time to reform yourself for entertaining selfish thoughts, to remember that this was all an exercise in fiction to meet the goal of being 10lbs lighter. For today, be the bitch.