Since I have ignored my earlier claim to “start working out” up until now, I decided to join the weight-loss website that has helped me in the past: Sparkpeople.com. This site allows you to track your calories consumed and burned, as well as all other nutritional values you’d like to keep your eye on, while shaming you into losing weight by broadcasting your lack of progress via the “weight ticker”. It also provides weekly meal plans for those who are “planning-deficient” like myself. As I took a giant swig of Mountain Dew and clicked through my list of short-term goals (including cutting “soda” from my daily diet) I started to get a calming feeling of, “Hey. At least I have a plan—that I’ll start tomorrow.”
With a goal of hitting up the grocery store on my way home from work, I printed out the suggested “5-day grocery list” and nearly fell out of my chair. There are at least 75 items on my list, most of them fresh fruits and vegetables. I’m not sure who they think their demographic is, but it certainly isn’t fancy ladies with a disposable income and fourteen children to feed. If it was, they’d just cut their losses and hire a personal trainer and nutritionist. Or sell some of their superfluous children for food money. My aversion to piles of rotting food in my refrigerator and the existence of the bottom of my pockets will force me to make up my own healthy meals and hope I’m following the “rules”. Oy. Hello brown rice and steamed vegetables. Cooking meat scares me. I’d be a vegetarian but I’d rather not sound like I belong in my neighborhood. Fight the power!
Part of me thinks it would just be easier (and more cost-effective) to take up a drug habit and let the pounds (and the teeth) melt off. I hear crack works. And according to Whitney Housten, it’s for poor people. That’s all I need to know! I mean, it’s not uber-trendy like prescription drugs, but I’m just a normal gal from the midwest, after all. I’m no Heath Ledger. Too soon? Too soon.
All jokes aside (as if), I’ll do my best to not burn the salmon and to keep my snarky comments to myself whenever someone wafts greasy fumes past me. Unless someone presents me with cheesecake, in which case I’ll cut a bitch.