Quarantine has not been kind to our bodies around here. We are weighed in regularly at our quarterly psychiatrist appointments, but with everything going telehealth, it had been since January that we had a weigh in. So imagine my surprise when we all weighed in within a week and found that Jolie, Rylee, and I had all gained 30 pounds each, and Paisley, our little string bean who only gains 2-3 pounds a year, had gained 18. Our doctors were not worried, as it seems a lot of people have gained during quarantine. But they did warn us to be careful because another 30 lb gain wouldn’t be seen as kindly.
Will, ever the health conscious of the two of us, kicked it into high gear and had Rylee sign up for MyFitnessPal to track her calories to help her lose 10 pounds. (Jolie is firmly in the IDGAF camp and is managing herself.) While his intentions are undoubtedly pure, it has had devastating effects on my middle child. She obsessed over every bite she put in her mouth and let the negative self-talk creep in, wishing aloud how she wasn’t so fat or ugly. Last night was the final straw when she collapsed at the end of my bed and started bawling her eyes out. She explained that she was tired of looking at food as what you can and can’t have. She was offered a brownie in her video editing class and she said she knew she would have too many calories if she took it because she had Italian wedding cookies to sample in her baking class later that afternoon. She decided to take it anyway but then, in a fit of guilt, she stashed it in her backpack and threw it away after class. “But Mom, I really wanted that brownie. I just wish I could go back to when I didn’t care what I put in my mouth.” And I really felt that. Because I too, had been dieting since I was 13. And it sucks always looking at food as good and bad. Worrying about the extra calories and fitting into your clothes. Both of my parents are obese. I am technically obese. I don’t want my kids to struggle like I did.
I was thinking last week about my impending 43rd birthday and what I had learned in my 42nd year, the year of epiphany and wonder. I had high hopes for that year, but I was struggling with a blog post that encapsulated my year, one that was ¾ spent in quarantine. It struck me that I have become the epitome of Gen-X—as long as I’m not hurting anyone, do I really give a fuck? I wear a mask, I socially distance, I eat something sweet every single night, I smoke the occasional joint to relax. Yes, I weigh too much according to the BMI scale. My bloodwork probably isn’t where it should be, but I am a firm believer that I have one life to live and by god, I’m going to live it. I hope I model this philosophy to my kids because after all, we should let them be kids. Model good behavior (Rylee and I are gym buddies, we cook healthy dinners together) and let the doritos fall where they may. I don’t want to be a skinny 92 year old looking back wishing I hadn’t forsaken the extra dollop of whipped cream. I’d rather go out as the plump 70-something who rocked too hard at her favorite band’s concerts and enjoyed one too many cheese plates. It’s trite. It’s quaint. But it’s true. Just let it be.
And for christ’s sake, always take the brownie!
- Hairballs are disgusting; I am glad I have Adam to clean them.
- I must remember that losing weight is a journey not a sprint. I am 7 weeks in, 7 lbs down and already fed up with how slow this is happening.
- I had a mini breakdown yesterday due to lack of motivation for working out. But as a good friend says, those days are going to happen, it’s how you handle them and then crush your goals despite them.
- I might be looking to bootcamp again. I think I miss the camaraderie and the accountability.
- Any bootcamping will have to be done after June 1 because we will be moving before then.
- That’s right, we got approved, put an offer on a house, it was countered, then I accepted. Closing is May 16, which means I only have 36 more days of nerves to deal with.
- I want to go to the first day of Bunbury so bad: The Killers, The Mowgli’s, Red Wanting Blue. Now I just have to find a sitter for 12 hours.
I love you all, some more than others.
It seems strange to be mulling over summer memories as the leaves are tumbling down and pumpkin spice everything is in full effect. But on this crisp autumn day, that’s exactly what I have found myself doing. I attribute this reminiscing to several things: the fact that today I put away my flip flops after weeks of crunching leaves under open-toes due to my hard headed refusal to accept autumn and the necessity for full tootsie covering footwear. See you in April, I sigh, lacing up my trusty gym shoes to walk down memory lane of warm sunny days of yore. It does not bode well for me and my tendency toward seasonal depression that Halloween hasn’t hit yet and already I am in full winter hibernation mode. This dwelling on summer fun could also be attributed to the fact that it was, indeed, the Golden Summer of 2015. Continue reading
- I think I’m going to start asking my children to respond with “as you wish” to my requests. And if they don’t I’ll remind them “I’m no one to be trifled with…” Yes, I introduced them to The Princess Bride this weekend.
- I’d forgotten how many great lines are in The Princess Bride…perhaps my favorite line of all time is when Westley says, “Death cannot stop true love…all it can do is delay it for a while,” something I firmly believe.
- “Oh no! She didn’t stop, drop, and roll.”—Paisley, upon watching Princess Buttercup’s skirt catch on fire in the Fire Swamp.
- With Christmas coming up, my schedule feels like Prince Humperdinck’s of late. “I’ve got my country’s 500th anniversary to plan, my wedding to arrange, my wife to murder, and Guilder to frame for it. I’m swamped.”
- “Wuv. Twue wuv…will follow you forever.”—the Impressive Clergyman has only an inkling of the truth as I have traveled the galaxies through time with mine.
- “Since the invention of the kiss, there have been five kisses that have been rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind.”—quite possibly the best ending line of a book.
- “I didn’t like all the sword fighting…”—Paisley; “It was really good,”—Rhett; “Not at all what I expected. I can’t believe Westley was alive the whole time!”—Jolie
I love you all, some more than others.
It was a hectic day, to say the least, with Jolie’s 5th grade skating party from 4-6 and Paisley’s 1st grade reading night from 6-7. Since school let out at 3:10, we had precious little time to grab a snack and dinner before the evening’s events started.
The roller skating party went off without a hitch. Paisley and Rhett stumbled their way around the rink, while Jolie took off, grooving on all four wheels to the latest Taylor Swift songs. All was well until it was time to go. Continue reading
As I shimmied into my new jeans—new because I had worn holes into the thighs of my old ones, not because I had dropped a size—I glanced in the bathroom mirror and caught sight of my belly and took pause. I try not to judge myself, though it is incredibly difficult these days, but shame and disgust overwhelmed me, I just couldn’t help it. Continue reading