Yesterday was one of my bosses' birthdays. [I work in a law firm, as an associate. Thus, I have a lot of bosses]. In celebration of his birth, his assistant provided a feast of calories [otherwise known as cookies and brownies and snack mix and candy and fruity bread oh my]. Aside from the one mini-pack of Sweet Tarts I snagged, I managed to walk by this caloric spread 20,000 times yesterday without deviation [his office is near mine; his assistant's spread was placed just steps from my door...] and I. was. so. proud. of. myself.
Then. Today, I come to work, only to discover she has placed the leftovers back out again. As if having to walk by temptation for 10 straight hours yesterday wasn't enough?! Who does she think I am? Gandhi!?! Oy. I can hardly stand to get a glass of water today and risk walking by the sweets and salt and yumminess... I swear those day-old brownies ARE TALKING TO ME. Temptation is a cruel cruel guest.
On a related note, last night I asked The Fiancé if I could have plastic surgery...someday. Just a tummy tuck; we're not talking facial reconstruction here. The thought occurred [not for the first time] when I was in the locker room at my gym, having just completed my obligatory strength routine, followed by a 4.5 mile run [go me!]. I caught sight of myself in the mirror as I attempted to regain normal-coloring in my face [in other words, I prayed the bright red face would diminish so I wouldn't look like I was about to have a heart attack...] Despite the punishment I'd just inflicted on my body and the countless calories I'd surely burned, my stomach refused to accurately reflect what I think it should look like. Yet, a thought occurred to me: this is the best it's gonna get. I'm at my lowest body-fat-percentage since my college soccer-playing days... I am shirking evil-brownies-who-are-calling-my-name... and still there is that stomach staring back at me, mocking the crunches I inflict upon it. Clearly age and children are not going to make this situation better... Thus, my inquiry to The Fiancé: tummy tuck maybe?!
Being the astute man he is, he conceded the decision is mine. Then outlined the reasons for my absurdity and even managed to inflict a good dose of Catholic guilt ("Why would you risk something so unnecessary?")
Did I mention I'm an attorney? I remind You of this as an explanation for how and why I was able to quickly digest and discard his arguments. Until he stumbled across something I hadn't considered: I am more obsessed with my physique lately simply because of the amount of time I'm spending focused on it in my quest to obtain 30-year-old perfection. When, by contrast, I've spent my time in less healthful endeavors (sitting on couch, eating cookies, etc...) as a matter of course, I've hardly cared what my stomach looks like. (And, bless his little heart, he claimed he loves both versions of me- the slob and the obsessor).
Which begs the question: maybe I just shouldn't work out at all. Then I'd be satisfied... maybe even happy... with the mirror's imperfect reflection...
Now about those brownies...
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4 comments:
It's funny... As i'm on this similar quest to get healthy, a friend of mine recently revealed she's been running. Impressed and inspired, I inquired. She then expressed dismay at her thighs/butt area. To which i was shocked. I thought she had an amazing body, and here she was critiquing these fabulously long legs and great perky butt of hers... I think ultimately what I learn is we are our own biggest critics...
I'm sure you look absolutely fabulous and all your endeavors are paying off. But ultimately, whatever you should decide - you must do for yourself, for your own confidence and for your own happiness. I'm not one to judge nor knock any type of plastic surgery (i actually think its pretty cool), one thing i have learned however is... if it ain't broke, don't try to (quick) fix it ;) (from those mtv specials about freak accidents during plastic surgery)
As someone who has met you and admired your tiny little waist and crazy-cut (and yet not Madonna-scary) upper arms, your body-hate makes me sad. If even women as hot as you are so unhappy with how they look, it does not bode well for more pleasantly plump ladies like myself. Stop the insanity! (Also, good work on the brownies. I am impressed.)
At my work we have potlucks for every holiday you could imagine. Sometimes we just have potlucks for the heck of it. Recently, a few of the legal assistants have been having this unspoken rivalry over who makes the best cheesecake. Nearly every month there's cheescake galore. It's insane. Of course I always cave to the temptation.
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