Bend and Stretch into the Fridge

My husband doesn't understand my obsession with cooking shows. His logic is simple: Why are you watching shows that focus on food when you're trying to eat less and lose weight? While I admit there is a certain morbid curiosity in watching other people create and eat food I shouldn't have, it's really about eating different, not necessarily just less of "bad" foods. I would never eat octopus, but I might pick up a cooking technique that I can apply to another type of seafood. Chef's say a lot of things in passing that turn out to be useful when applied to something else.

I especially enjoy "healthy" cooking shows. Cheerful chefs who are enthusiastic about fresh ingredients and layering flavors to produce something so wonderful tasting that it is a "must have" meal in and of itself. It's not trying to be "the original," it is an original. It's not a full fat wanna be or watered down version of something else. It's something yummy and desirable that just happens to be good for you. Manufacturers of kid-friendly foods have been trying to capitalize on this concept for years. I recently saw a commercial for canned pasta, loaded with sugar and white flour pasta, marketed as having a full serving of vegetables in every bowl. What diligent and conscientious parent doesn't want that for their child? Or for themselves? And tomatoes are considered a "power food." It just gets better and better! Butter should be a power food. Just ask Paula Deen.

So then it comes to my kitchen. I enjoy cooking, but not doing dishes or cleaning up the kitchen. I loathe meal and menu planning, but enjoy grocery shopping. This combination of preferences makes for some interesting meals and a depressing kitchen space, not at all condusive to producing culinary works of art and taste. Working out consistently has been good for my culinary skills because my body won't keep up with the physical demands unless I pay attention to what I'm feeding it. The planning then becomes a necessity as important has having a clean sport bra and socks every morning. It would seem that the exercise continues to reach into all the parts of my life.

Finding Normal

Chris asked me today how I was feeling about myself one month into this process or if anyone else had made comments. They have not. I don't imagine anyone else has noticed the small changes because they are housed in the same clothing. I apologized to him for not being a very good advertisement, at least not yet. That got the conversation off, in between sets of grunting crunches, on an advertising tangent. Chris referenced an "elevator advertisement." This was not a term I was familiar with, imagining print ads framed on the elevator walls. He said an elevator advertisement was selling yourself or your product as much as you could casually fit into the conversation between floors. Chris's best line as a personal trainer is to say, "I make people look good naked."

That's saying something when you realize you're your own worst critic. I should have quipped back at him, "To whom?" One of the things I want from losing weight and the reshaping of this body that is supposed to know better, is to feel pretty in lingerie. Lingerie is the place no bump or roll can hide. But feeling pretty isn't the same thing as looking like Krystal Richardson. (See picture above.) I'm not sure you have to actually be pretty to feel pretty. I believe psychologists agree that people at any weight can have that feeling regardless of their weight. I'm all for a healthy sense of self-esteem, but I also know that overweight is inconvenient and uncomfortable. For me the weight crept up gradually. I had time to get comfortable like a frog being cooked to death as the put of water he's sitting in is warmed one degree at a time. My weight went up by ounces at a time until it was 50+ pounds. I made a new normal. New normal was necessary. It got me up and out into the world. I lived my life, had friends, worked on my marriage, mothered my kids, worked at my jobs, all without feeling overly self-conscious or a need to run and hide myself from the world. As many times as I moaned about not having anything to wear to church, I still went. In fact, I was in pretty good company. They say the average American woman wears a 12/14.

The weight going to come off just as slowly, ounces at a time. As predicted, the scale hasn't changed dramatically so far, but there have been changes. Just those few changes have been enough to remind me of how "normal" felt when I was thinner and that it was a different normal than the one I adapted myself to. The sense of pretty I feel that goes with being thinner really is different than whatever sense of self I have come to terms with at my present weight. I don't need to look like a fitness starlet, but I do need to get back to my other normal.