Wednesday, July 25, 2007

I Could Use Some Wine Right About Now

And a lot of it.

More vacation pictures here, plus some of Plymouth with the rock (yep, that one). It's more like a boulder, not the huge beckoning cliffs I imagined.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

When Others Say It Better or WW-related Stuff

I briefly wrote before about how I'm thinking of quiting Weight Watchers and "watching what I eat"(read: diets) in general because I end up feeling like shit about myself. I've even read Intuitive Eating and all the Geneen Roth books, and I've talked to people who said that (amazingly) when you stop obsessing about the food, you feel better. But then I get really, really scared and go back to that thing that I know -- the points, the meetings, the sameness -- because it's worked for me before and I am deathly afraid of being out of control with my eating. Like if I give up the points, I will do nothing but loll about and stuff myself with cookie dough all day. I am a creature of habit.

Lately, though, I'm not feeling the WW so much. I read this post about a month ago and had this strange feeling that someone had gotten into my head and stolen my thoughts while I was throwing up a little in my mouth at the Sweat, Tears and The Sea meeting. I'm haven't been too happy with our WW leader for a while, but I've noticed a distinct change in this past 12-week session (I'm an at-work member). She covers the topic at hand and ONLY the topic at hand, and the "featured product of the week" makes me want to scream.

Last week was the meeting on exercise. I should be feeling really good about exercise. I've always been good at the gym and walking and working out because I ENJOY it. It's not a chore -- I like this stuff. And I've been feeling like a rock star lately with all the running. I am RUNNING, people. For MILES -- plural! I should feel awesome. And most of the time I do. Except for when I get on that scale at the WW meeting. Then I feel like a schmuck because either the number doesn't move or it goes up, and I come up with a list of things I "should" have done. I should have eaten better. I should have ran more. I should be biking too. I should drink more water. And seriously, what the fuck? Regardless of the scale, I should still feel fantastic about achieving something. But I don't for that one hour on Wednesday. I feel fat and I feel like a loser.

This has been going on for a few weeks now, but last week's exercise meeting pushed me closer to a decision about leaving. Even though the vast majority of our group runs or regularly goes to the gym, WW Leader insisted on doing a full frickin' meeting about desk stretches and other random shit designed to put "at least 10 minutes of moving around into your day." And we weren't allowed to call it exercise because then, supposedly, we wouldn't do it. I get that, and I get that there is a large majority of people who have trouble getting any physical activity into their day.s It's fantastic that WW has designed a meeting to help them get over that. What I do have a problem with is when the Leader refuses to change the meeting when it doesn't appeal to anyone in the room -- because that would mean not following the meeting guidelines. Grrr....

And the kicker? WW Leader: "We just want to lose weight. Nobody here wants to be an athlete." Huh? Speak for yourself, Crazy. Maybe I DO want to be an athlete. Maybe I want that more than to lose weight. Maybe I want to lose weight by being more athletic. Maybe I use the points system to help me figure out what is the best food to use their dumb terminology, "fuel my body." Like, seriously?

And now here's the point where I tell you that is all bullshit. I am enjoying my new-found athleticism, but I would really, really like to be thinner. Do I hate myself? Am I delusional? I don't think so, but you never know. I talk a good game about wanting to be healthy, but most of my quest-for-health-activities have always stemmed from a deep desire to be thinner and to escape from my body. I've ALWAYS been this way, and I have always had body issues -- and I've never been that heavy or that thin. I just am.

So, where was I going with this? I've been reading all the recent blogosphere posts about weight loss vs. fat acceptance with interest, because I'm not sure how I feel or what I feel, but a hell of a lot of people are much more literate than me.

All of these found via Elastic Waist [yes, I've plugged it before, but seriously, read it]:

Fat Loss vs. Fat Acceptance, redux

Do I really hate myself?

Poundy, of course. I have loved this blog for years.

And not related to the debate, but awesome anyway -- this thing on J.K. Rowling's site. I should note that I've never read a Harry Potter book, nor do I really care that much about Harry or Rowling for that matter. I just like this.

And oh so unrelated to anything: right after I gave up all hope, the Yankees are on a tear again. 5.5 games back in the Wild Card. I'm giving a respectable, restrained "woot!" at this point.

Monday, July 23, 2007

Fat Lard in an Ugly Shirt

File under: this is what an "adult relationship" looks like
Also under: thank god for giving me someone that can deal with the crazy in me head

JM: Do you ever have days where you wake up and look at yourself and think "I am so frickin' busted looking and old?"
YG: Um, not really.
JM: I do. I look gross.
YG: Is that the shirt from California?

[Editor's note: The shirt from California can also be described as the only thing in the JM warddrobe that YG said he didn't like. And he did not technically say he didn't like it. He technically said that it didn't play up JM's many good assets. His words, not hers. JM was very riot-grrll and super-feminista about it and said that she could keep the shirt even if YG didn't think it looked good on her because she doesn't need a man to tell her what does and doesn't look good. And then she threw it out a few weeks later, because he maybe might have been a teeny bit right.]

JM (with look, you know, that one): Noooo, it's not the shirt from California. It's a different one that may be cut similarly.
YG: Oh.
JM: (looking, looking, looking)
YG: (examining shoe, folding underwear)
JM: So you HATE this shirt?
YG: I don't hate the shirt. I asked if it was the shirt from California.
JM: The shirt you hated and said I looked fat in.
YG: I didn't SAY that. You make these things up because you are so very, very, very crazy.
JM: I'm not crazy. I am just, apparently, a fat lard in an ugly shirt.

And then we laughed hysterically for a while, because, really, that's funny. Fat lard in an ugly shirt. Hee.

In other news, I just finished reading How Sassy Changed My Life: A Love Letter to The Greatest Teen Magazine of All Time and OH MAH GOD, the nostalgia. Sassy was the first magazine I ever subscribed to, and the only one besides New York Magazine. I loved it, loved the writers, loved the music and it certainly made the idea of giving up my dream of being a writer to go major in the more parentally-acceptable journalism more palatable. I think, in high school, that I had a brief moment of thinking that I was going to grow up and be Christina Kelly and that I would FINALLY be cool.

And alas, it's more than a decade later and I am still me, not being all that cool and kind of a nerd but kind of okay with being kind of a nerd. And while you grow up and accept all the life choices that you make and sort of understand why you make them, there's this little part of me that thinks if I just find that right job or write the best short story or live in the hippest neighborhood and see the best band, then I will finally, finally be cool. I will be Kim Gordan and YG can be Thurston Moore. The MG can be Cocoa. :-)

[Note: I understand that wanting to be cool is so not cool. And so, so lame. While I'm at it, can I say that I want to be skinny and cool? And have really great, cool hair in a perfect shade of rebellious-yet-corporate-acceptable red?]

What a trip down memory lane, though. All the fashion articles (Kim France pants? Under my kilt with fishnets and a combat boot?) and the music articles (Ween!) and the Kurt and Courtney cover and the Junk Food Taste Test. It makes me want to go read all the old issues of Sassy which I think may still be in the basement at my parents' house if my mom or I didn't throw them out in a fit of making room for other stuff that we don't need. [Note: if anyone is looking for any birthday present ideas and you might be somebody related to me that might have access to the cabinet in the basement, check that shit out pronto]

Sassy, man -- I am frickin old. Sigh.