Fat Face
I finally bought a scale today. I have one at home, but since I've been going to gym, I've been eyeing up the scale there. It's difficult to get on a scale in a public place, especially one that's full of nimble college students. I had this vision of me stepping on and an alarm going off, some kind of double whammy that alerts everyone to my size and my age, and then one of the hoodie-wearing athletes would sprint over and physical remove me from the premises for being a bad example to the kids. Or else I'd get on and one of my co-workers would appear, just as my weight was revealed in bright red numbers and the scale made some kind of automated groaning noise.
In any case, I bought one--a fancy bamboo one for $40, a stylish addition to the bathroom that reads your weight in demure electronic numbers. And I said I wouldn't get on it until tomorrow morning because, you know, it's best to weigh yourself when you've not eaten in eight hours. But I couldn't help it. I had to know. And so I got on.
And you're crazy if you think I'm going to tell you what it read--this is not that kind of blog, and I am not that kind of sharer. But it wasn't good, and it wasn't bad either--well, it wasn't great, but there was something about having the number that made me feel better, like, okay, we know what we're dealing with here, people. It's a starting point at least, and I've been dreading it, so now I know and that's that. No more frosting for me. My main weakness is cereal. I love cereal. And I can have some, but not two giant bowls right before bed, as is my habit.
I've never really had a weird thing with food--like no real extremes in either direction. I think I starved myself for one day in college and then felt faint and gave it up. I never bought a tub of ice cream and ate all of it in one sitting while adding chocolate sauce and marshmallows. I never made myself throw up or did that weird thing they're doing now which is called "chew and spit." It's exactly what it sounds like. But I also never learned to cook for myself and so have spent most of my adult life eating things that can be microwaved or assembled by putting Frosted Flakes in a bowl and pouring milk on. And I am not delusional enough to image that I will become Julia Child, that but I know Dan will make me whatever I ask him to make, and it's probably best if I do eat consistent meals because the other thing I've done most of my adult life is to skip dinner and just wait until I was ravenous, and then eat like three meals of Corn Pops at once at ten o'clock at night and six wedges of cheese and then go to bed to allow for maximum fattitude.
Exercise--that's the tough thing because I no longer walk anywhere and it's not like I have the option to walk to work at all or to walk around the neighborhood in snow that's ankle deep. But I joined the gym at work and went three days last week, so that's something. I don't mind it yet, because if I go at just the right time, What Not to Wear is on TV.
But right now, I'm starving. And it's only just begun. I will eat a carrot.
In any case, I bought one--a fancy bamboo one for $40, a stylish addition to the bathroom that reads your weight in demure electronic numbers. And I said I wouldn't get on it until tomorrow morning because, you know, it's best to weigh yourself when you've not eaten in eight hours. But I couldn't help it. I had to know. And so I got on.
And you're crazy if you think I'm going to tell you what it read--this is not that kind of blog, and I am not that kind of sharer. But it wasn't good, and it wasn't bad either--well, it wasn't great, but there was something about having the number that made me feel better, like, okay, we know what we're dealing with here, people. It's a starting point at least, and I've been dreading it, so now I know and that's that. No more frosting for me. My main weakness is cereal. I love cereal. And I can have some, but not two giant bowls right before bed, as is my habit.
I've never really had a weird thing with food--like no real extremes in either direction. I think I starved myself for one day in college and then felt faint and gave it up. I never bought a tub of ice cream and ate all of it in one sitting while adding chocolate sauce and marshmallows. I never made myself throw up or did that weird thing they're doing now which is called "chew and spit." It's exactly what it sounds like. But I also never learned to cook for myself and so have spent most of my adult life eating things that can be microwaved or assembled by putting Frosted Flakes in a bowl and pouring milk on. And I am not delusional enough to image that I will become Julia Child, that but I know Dan will make me whatever I ask him to make, and it's probably best if I do eat consistent meals because the other thing I've done most of my adult life is to skip dinner and just wait until I was ravenous, and then eat like three meals of Corn Pops at once at ten o'clock at night and six wedges of cheese and then go to bed to allow for maximum fattitude.
Exercise--that's the tough thing because I no longer walk anywhere and it's not like I have the option to walk to work at all or to walk around the neighborhood in snow that's ankle deep. But I joined the gym at work and went three days last week, so that's something. I don't mind it yet, because if I go at just the right time, What Not to Wear is on TV.
But right now, I'm starving. And it's only just begun. I will eat a carrot.
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