Every year I allow myself to gain ten pounds during November and December. THEN, every year I drop the ten before sweater weather ends.
2013 was different.
I put on the ten in November and December of 2012 (snickerdoodles! goofy balls made out of Oreos and white chocolate! pumpkin everything! have I mentioned the goofy balls?!), and when it was time to drop the ten? I couldn’t drop it.
I know things happen when you start dancing around in your 40s. I also know that Matthew McConaughey is my age and he can gain and drop weight for movie roles like it’s his job. (Because IT’S HIS JOB.) And another thing: Matthew McConaughey has a last name that is VERY difficult to spell, making cutting and pasting an absolute necessity for me. And, yes. Matthew McConaughey is a man with resources. He probably has an athletic trainer and/or a nutrition coach and/or a trusty supplier of marijuana. I have none of those things. Then again, I don’t NEED any of those things. (It’s fun to make drug references at Fluid Pudding. Do you remember the other day when I talked about LSD? I loved that.)
You know about my weirdo relationship with food and body image (and wool and alone time). I won’t go into details. Just know that it REALLY bothered me that I wasn’t able to drop the ten. When summer hit and my summer clothes wouldn’t fit? It did me in. I actually went out and purchased a $12 Sleeveless Dress of Shame in an attempt to “force” myself into DROPPING THE TEN. I ran a few times. I did yoga a few times. I sat on the couch (more than) a few times. (Alone. With wool.)
On September 17th, I went into a place that reduces the number of degrees of separation between Jennifer Hudson and anyone who goes into that place. (I’ve talked about the place before.) I sadly stood on a scale and was told that I had actually gained not ten, but thirteen pounds in the past year.
Lady With The Scale (LWTS): What are your goals?
Me: Easy. I want my jeans to fit because I can’t stomach shopping for jeans. I have too much stomach for my jeans. My stomach! My jeans! PLEASE STOP ME BEFORE I CRY!
I decided to give myself five weeks to drop the 13. (And that’s sort of funny, because I had been trying to lose it for 37 weeks. Some people can cook up an entire BABY in 37 weeks!)
As of this morning I hit my goal with absolutely zero exercise. (Let me know if you ever want to talk about clean eating. Clean eating is what worked. 100%.) Hilarious coincidence: It’s November. Time to start eating like a jerk again! GOOFY BALLS!
Actually, because I’m old and I don’t really have anything in common with Matthew McConaughey, I’m going to try to NOT gain ten pounds during the holiday season. To help keep me motivated, I’m looking into a Fitbit Force. In order to actually get off of the couch, I feel like I need numbers and clicks and bells and whistles and graphs and apps and a social network made up of OTHER clowns who have Fitbits. (I also feel like I need a therapist, but I’m convinced that wool/alone time provides the same benefits as getting dressed and talking to a stranger (who is merely a friend I haven’t met yet, I suppose).)