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I Have Fat
In the name of hitting “my” weight goals, I have done my whole self a great disservice. First of all, I think weight goals are absolutely baloney, as is the BMI chart. I have, like a lot of all y’all, invited all of the fad diets and programmes into my life. In the earliest days I tried a high protein, low/no carb diet, raspberry ketones (expensive waste of money) and grapefruit juice. I joined fat loss groups—Counter- Weight and Weight Watchers—twice. I tried vegetarianism. I bought oodles of books and supplements. I fell prey to the poop-it-out theory of weight loss (silly me). And I spent more than a few hours wandering around trying to figure out what Dr. Google had to say about me. I considered anorexia and bulimia, but I’m a bit of a wuss and I like food. The reality of all of the experimentation is some “diets” offer a quick weight loss and others are just so much horse pucky. Actually, all of the diets are all horse pucky, if the truth be told. But who doesn’t like a quick fix? When my older sister and I were teenagers (she’s about three years older) we used to giggle and say things like, “Got a date on Friday, I wonder if I could lose twenty pounds by then?” Of course, we lived at home so we ate what Mom put in front of us. As a society, we’ve become used to treating the symptoms of what ails us rather than figure out what the problem is and work on changing/eliminating the causes. I certainly don’t want to live the rest of what’s left of my born-days denying myself all of the gustatory pleasures. So, for the last ten months I’ve worked on me and I’ve done a lot of research on legitimate websites. I’ve come to the conclusion that “I’m not fat. I’ve got fat”. I am me, a person who likes a glass of wine, a few Lay’s ™ plain potato chips, knowns how to give a chocolate bar a good home and right now, it’s all about eating an ice from Cones and Shakes on Elks Street! The most important thing I’ve learned is to eat real food. It’s been an eye-opening learning curve. I thought I knew stuff. I don’t. I had to learn to say “okay” to butter and “no” to lite spreads. I rarely drink soda, but if I do I don’t drink diet soda. For that matter, I don’t buy anything “diet”. You’d be hard pressed to find diet stuff in my pantry, including sweetened beverages. I have found the fewer number of ingredients on a prepared food/drink item the better it is for me.
Now, let me tell you what real food is for me! I eat three meals every day. At lunch and dinner, whenever possible, I fill more than half of my plate with vegetables, most of which are raw or steamed or oven-roasted with olive oil. I don’t avoid eggs, even though a lot of people believe they are the cause of high cholesterol— pssst, they aren’t. I drink about two litres of water every day. I don’t count tea or coffee as part of my water intake, and I don’t drink milk. Every day I eat a few servings of seasonal fruit—which is not macerated with sugar or other sugar products. Just plain apples or berries or oranges, etc., nothing fancy. When I eat bread, which is almost every day, I try to stick to sourdough breads or very simple bread products (yeast, water, flour salt, olive oil). I eat meat, fish and poultry, but they don’t dominate my daily dietary intake. If I eat cereal it’s usually oatmeal, but without milk or sugar. However, I do include, chopped apples, walnuts and a tablespoon of peanut butter. Olive oil is a staple, as are herbs and spices. I eat rice and barley and pasta. Oh yes I do! I love fresh vegetables, especially if they’re locally grown. I make a lot of vegetable soups and rarely buy canned or dried soup mixes. Am I thin? Well, not really, but I never was. So I’m learning to be happy with who I am and not who an AI character tells me I could become. I don’t own a bathroom scale, but I do weigh myself about once a week at the gym. I do monitor my blood pressure ‘cuz I’m a grownup who needs to keep track of the ups and downs. I do drink wine and have been known to drink a shot of Scotch or share a vodka martini. I’ve have had the big talk with myself about addictive behaviour and I now understand I’m one of those people who could easily mistake a sense of entitlement for a sense of wellbeing.
In what the media refers to as “the beach body season” I know I have a body and if I want to I’ll go to a beach, therefore I have a beach body. I’m embracing my inner “if you don’t like how I look, don’t look at how I am”. I’m me. I’m not fat. I have fat.
Pass the Hawkins! I’ve got wine!
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