A Lenten Conviction or 20 Pounds and Counting.....

Why O why does our metabolism slow down to a pace equivalent to a half dead snail as we mature? I don't want to say age, because I still think of myself as young.. Unfortunately, my metabolism doesn't.

I have been fighting with the cumulative value of 20+ lbs. for 10 years. At first it was 5, then 10, then 15.....You get algebraic formula? Now it's creeping toward 25 and I am panicky about it going any further.

The kicker of it hit me right between the eyes last month. It was Son's Girlfriend's birthday. (I really need to come up with a new name for her as she is expecting his baby in 4 months. "Girlfriend" isn't quite hitting the mark.)

But anyway, Girly and I went shopping to a Mall maternity shop looking for something for Girlfriend's birthday. We were perusing the racks and racks of very trendy (and I might add expensive) maternity clothes. I had a couple of shirts hanging across my arm as Girly and I decided what most fit Girlfriend's style and personality. We were having an in-depth conversation, when the sales clerk approaches and says to me:

"I can start you a fitting room if you like."

Uh? Who is she talking to?

I look at her as if she has just popped a third eyeball. You talkin' to me? It took several moments to register before I start to sputter:

"NO,,, Uh.. Gawd NO!!!... Not for me!!! No, no, no...... This is for my ummmmmm, daughter in law....no, no, not me.. My baby days are over..."

Before it registers what I've said, she looks at Girly... For gosh sake lady, SHE'S TWELVE!!!

"No, No,,,, not for us.." I sputter on....

She replies, dripping with syrup, I may add..."Well, you just never know these days....."

And goes about her merry mommy clothes sellin' way. I silently damn her to a lifetime of fat pants..

By this time Girly is suffering from apoplexy and is heading toward the door, cell phone in hand, ready to call all the human race and announce the saleswoman thought her mother was pregnant. She is rolling.

Grant it, I did not look my best that day. It was a legal holiday, Girly was out of school and I was off work, so we took the opportunity to schlep around, eat a breakfast buffet and use up the rest of our Xmas giftcards. Apparently, tooling around the mall in sweats after gorging on the breakfast buffet was the wrong idea. When I relayed this incident to my family and friends they encouraged me to take solace in the idea that the sales lady actually thought I was still young enough to reproduce. I really didn't find any comfort in this.

My weight issue is compounded by the facts that I am of short and petite build. I never had to watch my weight until I hit somewhere in my thirties. I'm totally undisciplined when it comes to diet, exercise, etc. I just can't get make myself get serious.

I'm not a bad eater. I do eat relatively healthy. Don't do very many sweets at all. Both Husband and I are salad freaks. We eat lots of it. At least once or twice a day. I'll usually make a big bowl of just veggie salad and the two of us will eat off it for couple of days or so. I do pretty good with it. He could do better. He's a real eggs and cheese man. He also pours on the dressing as if he's trying to hose down a blaze. But, regardless, we're talking about me, not him. I do crave salt. I can knock out an entire bag of chips and onion dip in one sitting. Not that I'm proud of it, but I used to be able to do this without conscience. Never had to think about it hitting my midsection.

With the onset of Lent...I vow to give up the things that are making me fat. Most likely one of them is alcohol. Empty calories, so no alcohol for the next six weeks.

Now, remember, we're Catholic.

It's Fish Fry season.

Tonight is the first night.

I am Fish Fry Co-Captain.

So I'll be there from 7:00 till close and clean up. It's usually our custom to hang around afterwards to eat and drink some of the leftovers. I guess I'll sit there with my Fiji Water (one of Husband's products) and eat the broiled fish and green beans rather than those big rolled oysters, onion rings and a cold Bud.

O Discipline, I call on thee to be my friend!

The other thing I need to do is exercise this 46 year old body some. I do nothing physical... zilch, nada, zero. The fact is that if I do, I can cut my weight problems in half...

Girly and I have been talking about taking up walking in the neighborhood. I used to do this quite a bit and really enjoyed it. I did it a lot when she was small as an effort to take off the baby weight and as a way to have some "me" time in the evening. With her age and the teen years lapping at my heals, it would be good for the two of us to walk 30 minutes in the evening and have that one on one time everyday. I hope I'm not fooling myself by thinking we might actually "bond".

Some years ago (quite many, actually), Husband the opportunity to win a high end exercise bike is a sales contest. I begged him to win this particular item (rather than an all expense paid trip or something equivalent). He won the bike, put it in our basement. I can probably count on all my fingers and toes how many times I've been on this bike. Every once in a while he throws the subject of the unused bike at me, but since he doesn't get on it either, he can't say much. It just kind of sits there next to the pool table like a piece of pop culture art. I vow to make use of it in bad weather, when I can't go out.

I vow to cut out fried foods and cut down my salt intake. This is hard. I am a saltaholic. In the summer, when we have fresh tomatoes from our yard, it's nothing for me to grab a big one, cut it up, salt it like no tomorrow and eat it. I can do this several times a day. I add salt to my ketchup......after I've salted my fries. I'm sure my sodium level is off the geiger counter.

So that's the Lenten plan.. Hopefully, with effort, discipline and prayer, I'll be successful. And maybe drum up some brownie points from Heaven at the same time. I just hope there's fried onion rings, salt and Budweiser when I get there.