I wrote about Samantha's scare Monday; for something similar, you can read ~Deb's scare here. Today's post will be less scary, but still about bodies. In re-reading ~Deb's story (I won't comment on the particulars because you ought to read it), I just remembered that I hate when doctors call patients "clients"; I just hate it.
I was chatting with a friend yesterday, and then excused myself to go to the gym. You see, I need to loose 10 pounds, preferably having five of them come off my ass. I weigh 135 pounds, and I would like to get to what I consider my ideal weight: 125 pounds. I am a mere 5'2", but 125 pounds seems to be a good weight for me. 1
When I was in college, I was 118 pounds, and I shifted from 115 (scary skinny; ribs poking out) to 125 (after nights of beer and pizza and less dancing than I should have done). By the time I was a senior, it seemed that I was destined to be 122 pounds forever. My weight was fairly steady by then, and I was too stupid to know that my metabolism might one day slow down. Yeah, I was a college kid.
I remained about the same weight for more than ten years. Fifteen years? Okay, ten years. And then I started gaining a bit of weight. Not much. A pound or two a year. Maybe three pounds occasionally. But they are cumulative pounds, and I find myself sitting at 135 pounds now. The other day, I heard someone say her favorite number was 8. It is a curse for me. I was always a dress size 6, and now, I am an 8. I hate that number. At first, I occasionally bought a dress with the number 8 sewn into the back. I would blame it on the manufacturer sizing a bit different than standard sizing. I can't use that rationalization anymore. I am the poster girl for size 8.
I joined a gym about a year ago, and I have been going, on and off, not really committing myself. Feeling good enough to stabilize my weight. Now, I do elliptical. Something I used to call Stair Stepper ®. At first, I thought the word "elliptical" was a bad description. I don't want my butt in the shape of an ellipsis. Then it occurred to me that the work referred to the motion the feet may be making. That makes more sense.
I have heard and read that America is getting, how does the media put it, "too damn fat." My personal struggle over ten pounds would qualify me to fix the problem, were I to work for the government in the fat regulation office. Well, it is probably called something like Council on Calorie Control in the U.S. Government Accountability Office.
My first thought would be to announce that by January 1, 2009, the only clothes that would be legal to wear in public would be bikini bottoms for women and Speedos® for men.2 I know, I know. As Fat Burner Czar, it would seem strict. I would be crucified in the media. They would call me a kook.
But let's think about it. Without clothes, you can't hide any fat. And you would be encouraged to loose a bit of weight. That would be my strategy.
I know, I know, with all that skin out there, there would be lots of gawking. And I would not want to wander the produce isle, constantly hearing, "Nice melons."
But I would do change in direction. After everybody would complain about going nudie (children excluded, of course), putting them in some Star Trek like snug suit would be a breeze. All of the naughty parts would be covered, but you can't hide the fat.
Me, I am going to go back to the gym today. And tomorrow. Looking to loose the ten pounds. I just hope that the pounds don't come from my breasts. Now, that would suck.
1 A little curvy without having a pouch in the front or a big ass.
And, no, Grant, I don't look like those skinny ass Japanese women (girls).
2I would need the generic word for Speedos®, but that is a small hurdle.
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