clothing freak out

Why are clothes so mean?  Why are they all designed for Twiggy?  Aren't the 60's supposed to be over already?  Even when I was young and thin, this was a problem, because I always had a big butt.  Even when it wasn't that big, it was always bigger than the rest of me.  The result of this is that I always felt too big, even when I wasn't.

I long for clothing of another culture, like India or Africa or.....well what do they wear in the middle east, besides belly dancing costumes and burkas?  At least all these places accomodate women's natural curvature.  Beautiful colorful flowing silk saris.  Just think of all those photographs in National Geographic that nobody wanted to throw away.  An unexpected result of their beautifully dyed fabric, captured by lucky photographers in the right light, was the cliche of American hoarding, the garage full of National Geographics.  And few things feel sexier than wearing a belly dancing outfit.  Just try it!

Back in the colonial days of North America, they had a better system.  (Not that all of it was great at that time, for example, corsets certainly sucked big time.)  You had a big flowing sheath thingie underneath, like a white sack sort of fabric, and then over it you wore a tie thingie that went around your waist, but you could make it tighter or looser depending on how bloated you were.  How practical and comfy!  The most widely known illustration of this that I can think of is the dancing chick in the music video for the song "Safety Dance" by Men Without Hats.  She is certainly insane but it's not because her clothing bugs her.

Anyway.  Back to my original point.  What was it?  Oh yeah, so nothing fits and I get into a rageful depression when I go shopping, angry at the designers, at the mirrors, at thin people, and at the whole shopping process.  But I have to wear something.  I'm a mom, and I don't want to look like a slob with stained clothes....."Oh, it's her....the slob mom!"

Sometimes I just come home with nothing.  "I am anti materialist!"  I say to myself.  But over the past week, I've had some sort of strange shopping reaction of the opposite sort.  I'm buying everything.  Because SOME clothes are sort of vaguely fitting, but then I find some other ones that might vaguely fit in a slightly more flattering way but just barely, and most clothes fit so horribly that if I find something that almost fits, I had better buy it because nothing will ever fit again.

The shopping bags are starting to line up.  1/4 of the bedroom is full of these bags, and I'm afraid to take any tags off!   I have spent at least over $1000, which I cannot do at all.  Every night and every morning I stare at the growing pile.  It scares me, but oddly I find it satisfying in a way.  Because even though most of the clothing is only visiting, soon they will be going back to the store, they are evidence that sometimes, some way, somehow, somthing fits.

I hate it when skinny people complain about their weight

Note to skinny people: WE HATE YOU.

Now, I don't mean that we really hate you.  We would like you just fine.  If you would just. Stop. Talking. About your weight!  You are twigs!!!!  And here I am standing with my round, bodacious, abundant butt, and you ladies, looking like twiggy, are complaining??? Why in God's name, why?

Remember that lady in Weight Watchers?  Yes, there is always one.  That one.  Who has to lose five pounds.  And the rest of us chubbies are sitting around, listening with barely veiled growling teethy stress, about her trouble losing those....last five pounds.  Does she not have any idea that she is sitting in a room, palpably building up extreme hatred for herself?  It could be dangerous to make so many enemies in the same town, particularly if we all start to synch our cycles together.

Worst of all, one of these people, is my damn VEGAN HUSBAND.  Heretofore to be known as my VEGHUS.  or how about VH.  Yes, I have to admit that so far, he is winning.  He must have lost about 20 or 30 pounds, but I am too mad to ask.  I have lost about 5.....probably because this diet is extremely unforgiving of the occasional cheat treat.  And the lack of exercise.

Speaking of which, I should really go and take a walk.  But I haven't given up yet. I will not let him gloat. 

I HAVEN'T GIVEN UP YET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I hate this stupid diet because I am lazy

and this diet takes ALOTof work.  I was getting fed up, because I keep losing weight on my week of drinking protein shakes, and then gaining it back again when I do my "meat week."  But then I thought, I have to be honest, I am not really following the diet on that week, plus I am not REALLY exercising like I should.

It takes planning.  But if I am lazy and don't plan what I am going to eat, well, I still have to eat something.
That is where I veer of course.  I don't know what the frig to eat, so I open the refrigerator (how do you spell refridgerator???) and stare at it.  I remember that this is my low carb meat week, but what the F(*&&(* can I eat?  Sigh.......something vaguely low carb.

But the truth is, it isn't really low carb unless you are obsessed with low carb.  Really low carb means, no more than 10 carbs a meal.  That's hardly any carbs.  A few extra bites of veggies, a couple of ounces of milk, and boom, you can't lose the weight.  It's annoying.

It's annoying but you are trapped.  If you stop, you are severely punished by instant, non-comprimising extreme weight gain.  It sucks.  So here I go again, I'm getting out the darn book and writing down the freaking recipes and planning my boring grocery list and cooking.  I just wish I could get on with my life and wear clothes that fit already.

maybe I should just move, but not back to Manhattan

It's all relative.  Body perception, that is.  A good friend of mine told me yesterday about this glorious place in upstate New York, called...Buffalo New York!  Apparently, in Buffalo, she claims, she feels extremely thin, because of the many huge obese people there.  It is so, sadly commonplace there, she claims to see very overweight people at the all you can eat buffets, which specialize in barbeque ribs and such greasy yummy fare.

Even just writing this, I feel guilty.  The poor health of so many people shouldn't be anything to joke about.  Even worse, their emotional health is my guess as to what continues the cycle of not being able to lose the weight, combined with a cultural norm for eating alot.  If an averagely overweight person like myself (20 lbs too much) has a hard time losing weight and gets discouraged about it, I imagine that in their hearts, they just feel desperate and hopeless.

Okay, so I won't joke about it anymore.  Let me instead complain about going into Manhattan, which I do a couple of times a week.  Now, I lived in Manhattan for many years, and during that time, when I had a naturally young and svelte body, I felt nothing but fat and bulges.  What a waste!  All I saw around me were starving supermodels and ballerinas.  It's amazing, to think that, when I see a beautiful young woman in her 20's in New York, that she probably feels ugly, fat, and jealous much of the time.

And now, (some) years older and 20 pounds heavier, forget about it!  I am an elephant tromping around the concrete jungle with doe eyed giraffes gracefully prancing on by.  At least I don't live in L.A.  And at least I'm not a former actress.  Yeah, it would be so, so sad, to be a rich, overweight former actress.  Especially a successful one.  Yeah.

grossness: It's one way to lose weight

WARNING!!!!  GROSS OUT CONTENT TO FOLLOW!!!!!!!!

Who:  I imagine there are about 30 people feeling this way today, because of drunken scary zombie
What:  grossness, like I already said.  Which resulted in total appetite loss. 
Effectiveness: it's been at least 15 hours, with few signs of letting up
When: It happened last night, and yet it still lingers somehow
Where: It involved the train, which explains the motion, which combined with drunkedness and stonedness, kinda says it all
why: do you really want to know?

Yes, drunk smelly person puking on the train, continuously down the aisle, covering as much surface area as possible, spraying everyone in the aisle seats.  My coat, purse, and boots from last night are still by the front door, in a pile.  I'm afraid to go near them, I may puke. 

However, the silver lining is I hardly have any appetite!  No cheating or even eating nary an extra bite!  All that I've had to eat today is nothing!  I've only drank two protein shakes, and had two cups of coffee!  My eyes are wide open to the possibilities of grossness that NYC potentially has to offer, swiftly pointing me on the road to sveltness!

the sound of my soda

I love this time of day.  It is beautiful.  So, very beautiful.  Because my kids are not here to yell at/or to be yelled from, same with husband.  It's the only time I have, to experience this stillness.  Even at night, I can tell that it's not that quiet.  They snortle, they toss and turn, they can wake up at any moment and ask for stuff.

But now, I hear the bird chirp outside my door, a distant car.  And my soda, next to me, making that cheerful churpling bubble noise.  How often do I ever hear that, or notice it?

Soda does have some strange spiritual connections, as it turns out.  And a history of danger too!  Jason Priestley, the "father of soda pop," was a victim of arson in 1785 to his home and church, in retaliation for his unorthodox beliefs and writings.  Don't worry, it has a happy ending because, like many religious misfits, he escaped to America, ye ole land where it's fit to be weird, religiously anyway.

Not only that, but I also have read about an intruiging suggestion from an African spiritual teacher, who explains that, the best way to contact one's ancestors, is to pour soda water onto the ground, and ask for them.  Now that is cool.  Those bubbles are magical!

There are two reasons I haven't tried that yet:
(1) I am just not sure I am ready to make contact with the underworld, and
(2) My soda is too expensive to just pour on the ground, being overpriced stevia sweetened such as it is.

Does veganism make you act like an a$$?? Aka: "Where is my stevia?"

him: "Where is my stevia?"  He demands.  I shrug.  I am still in my pajamas, scrubbing the mold off of the bathroom tub tiles.  I am sort of, like, a bit busy.

him:  "Because you were the last one to see it.  Did you buy it?  You said you were going to buy it. Well, did you unpack it??  Where did you put it?  Can't you go look for it now? "
me: "Um, sorry, but I don't know where it is.  It's small.  Maybe I forgot to unpack it, and it's still in the bags, by the door.  Or maybe it dropped somewhere, I dunno, sorry."  (scrub, scrub scrub.)

him: "Well you need to go find it.  Now."

me: (glare) scrub, scrub, scrub

him:  closes the bathroom door menacingly, so the kids don't hear....."Go look for it, now.  You were the last one to have it, so you need.  To.  Go.  Look.  For.  It."

me:  "stop talking to me like that"

him:  "You need to stop talking to me in that tone of voice"

me:  "I mean it, stop it, go away"

him:  "NO.  YOU STOP."

me:  "I said, I don't know where it is, I don't know where to look, I made a mistake, okay, maybe I lost it, maybe it's in the bags, but I can't come down right now."

and on, and on and on it goes, leading to yet another weekend full of misery and silence. 

Is it the diet, or something else?

my meatloaf mush

"But.....don't you get tired of eating the same thing everyday?"  My dear friend politely hinted, with only thinly veiled bewilderment.  Well I should, and I don't know why I don't get tired of this meatloaf.  It is just meatloaf, after all, with a side of green beans and fake potatoes (really cauliflower whipped with cream.)

I think it may be the greasy, oily, buttery flavor.  With this diet you are allowed, even encouraged, to add real butter to whatever you are cooking, to drive up the fat and carb content.  And guess what.....butter is good!!!!!  Like Anthony Boidoin said in his great book "No Reservations,"* if you are eating yummy food in a restaurant and wonder why it's just so darn good, it's probably because it was cooked with tons of butter.

Right now as I am typing, my kitty cat is sitting on the kitchen table, happily licking up the remainder of my lunch.  No wonder he follows me around all over the house all day!  I'm now the source of alot of buttery/protein leftovers!

Or, maybe, it's just that if you wait long enough to eat, you get, like, really really hungry, and everything tastes pretty good at that point.

* Sorry, but I am probably spelling his name wrong.  And that may not be the correct book title.  But, really really good read, especially if you are thinking about opening a restaurant.