I had a bad eating weekend. Really bad. It also didn't help that I had way too much to drink Friday night, which resulted in sitting at the kitchen counter with six close girlfriends eating pasta and Christmas cookies until 3:00 in the morning.
Saturday, I was hurtin' - which didn't bode well for getting back on the nutrition wagon, or for exercising beyond getting out of bed to get more snacks to make my headache go away. Then Sunday rolled around and with the Bears tragedy, it was no time to give up the plethora of left-over-very-bad-for-you party food.
So by the time Monday rolled around, I was feeling pretty disgusting and just down right fat. I know most people can put it on and take it off and their mood is pretty consistent. But when I'm up in weight from a big binge weekend, I am crabby as hell. It's not so much the scale, but the jeans are my barometer and when the muffin top begins to start forming, I don't feel like going anywhere or talking to anyone. I really enjoyed the taste of those dark chocolate covered pretzels, but I enjoy feeling lean better.
This was my frame of mind when taking my son to gymnastics. I was slightly irritated, bloated, not in the mood to chitchat with silly women. There is only one seat that's a little out of the way of what I call the bullpen (a hot sweaty area that looks like a scene from Dance Moms.) We were running late and as I whipped around the corner to claim the one independent chair, I was met with a woman and her laptop and she flashed me a grin that let me know she won.
So I squeezed into the pint-sized plastic chairs - at least they felt pint-sized after my weekend, and instantly the sweat started forming on my brow. It's going to be one long hour.
The women all seemed to be part of some cult-like play group because they were sharing stories about one of their members going AWOL and gossiping about where she might be hiding. Then the talk of weight came up. Normally, I love talking about weight and food. I like to think of those conversations as free Weight Watcher meetings. However, cynical, fat me wasn't in the mood.
Most of these women tip a little heavy on the scale, but more or less totally acceptable weights. There was one women that talked obsessively about her slow metabolism. She never eats more than salads and granola. Besides the fact that I wanted to tell her that most granolas are full of sugar and fat, I also wanted to mention that I thought she was full of crap. But I refrained.
Then the conversations went a little like this:
- "I work out seven days a week for at least an hour and can't seem to lose this extra 40 pounds"
- "I literally never eat - I have no idea why I can't lose weight"
- "I stop eating by 6pm, this just doesn't make any sense"
But then this one pushed me over the edge:
- "I work out like crazy, I'm carting the kids around constantly and am always on the go. Life is just not fair. I shouldn't be fat. There is absolutely no reason I should be fat"
This time I didn't refrain. I went there. I was in the middle of the conversation, but hadn't said a word until I plunged off the cliff and simply stated, "You're fat because you eat too much."
I tried to recover and say I was fat from the weekend because I ate too much too. It had absolutely nothing to do with anything else. I had no one else to blame. My lame attempt at back peddling wasn't really working. No one was responding. I was met with daggers. I guess I won't be invited to that play group anytime soon.
I probably shouldn't have said it so blatantly, but given my own state of feeling enormous and my crabby mood, it just came out. WIth the exception of a few rare cases, it's totally true. Why be ashamed? I fully admit it and if people want to be honest with themselves, they'd admit it too.
We can't really hide our weight unless we have a really great stylist. I'm sure I was way too harsh, but the only way I'm going to fit into the size smaller jeans is to eat less. It's the same for pretty much everyone. Depending on the meal in front of me, sometimes I think it's totally worth gaining the weight because I really want the taste of the vodka pasta calling my name. Other times I get in the zone. I eat less, exercise more and am smart about my food choices. Shockingly, I lose weight.
I'm not saying it's not hard, it's really hard. It's just the concept that's simple.
Stating the obvious clearly isn't going to make me any friends, especially at gymnastics. I'm sorry gymnastics lady for inadvertantly calling you fat. While you're working on your eating, I'll be working on my social skills. I guess now I'll have to get there 30 minutes before class to assure myself the lone seat behind the door.