Back in skinny jeans

What's worse getting fatter or wrinkly? Part deux

I've been thinking more, actually feeling more, about what's worse, getting fatter or getting more wrinkly, and I have concluded that it is worse to feel the realities of wrinkly, Shar-pei drooping skin set in. With getting fatter, at least you can go on a program, and drop the weight. Bam, no problem we're back into skinny jeans. When your skin starts to droop, fall to the ground, and look leathery, you will either need to start spending some serious money on face cream concoctions, get some nip/tuck, or start wearing veils over your head like cooky Michael Jackson to hide the lines of time.

I know, I know, we are supposed to be trying to rise above the superficiality of physical appearance, but I am having a serious problem with it. My feelings are not okay with it. My earth bound small self, is just absolutely having a hissy fit over the aging process. I'm sitting here typing away and all I can feel at this moment is fat and wrinkled. I'm turning into a big, old, hefer with sock titties, and I feel helpless. I cannot bargain with time to get my elastic skin back. I cannot negotiate with time to get my perky boobs back. I cannot bribe time into giving me back another 20 years of virginal-looking glow. If I want to prolong the inevitable just a little longer, I will need to get plastic surgeons.

Shallow. Yes, it is all shallow, and extremely hard on myself. Logically, I know that I am a beautiful, vibrant, creative spirit, but that is not what I feel at this moment. I am smart, and talented, but all I can fixate on at this moment is that I need another bra for the fat rolls on my back coming off the straps of my bra. We are taught to fight off and bottle up the ugliness and superficiality of our dark sides because it's not pretty. Good girls are not supposed to talk out loud about any feelings that are contrary to politeness, being above pettiness, and social normalcy. We all get fucked up because we simply do not talk about ALL our feelings, and let them out. Only the good feelings are allowed out. The bad feelings need to stay indoors or get screamed out when you're alone in a wheat field. 

I am feeling all kinds of self depreciating things, and instead of stuffing it all, I'm letting it out here with you. I'm letting it be. I'm just going to feel the sorrow, the disgust, the helplessness, and the cat fit. I'd also really like to sink my teeth into a mouth watering submarine sandwich with a side of garlic fries lathered in ketchup. I want to say out loud that physically aging sucks. It just flat out sucks to see your body prune up, inflate, and droop. We all have to go through that process and it sucks. It blows chunks all over the frackin' hemisphere. Today, this is what I feel.

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What's worse getting fatter or wrinkly?

On Friday, I read a great author interview on my friend Camy's blog. The author is Diann Hunt and her book is Hot Flashes and Cold Cream. The main characters are middle-aged women, but they are dealing with the same issues that all women deal with like obsessing about our looks, and how to build up low esteem. In the interview, Diann talked about one day washing her face, and then looking up in the mirror and seeing her grandmother's face. I totally related to that scene. Instead of seeing my grandmother's face, I saw my mother's semblance. Every one of us has that morning where we stare back at the mirror and realize that time is leaving deeper marks on our once youthful mug. The wrinkles are getting deeper, the hair is turning bluer, and the cheeks don't snap back like they used to, in fact they are noticeably sagging south bound. Yikes!

A couple weeks ago, I got on the scale, and was slapped with the reality that I have gained 15 pounds in the last year. And admittedly, all those extra pounds are "I got a man now so I can stop exercising and watching what I eat." Matt has fallen into the same trap too, so we've just kind of gotten fatter and comfy together. Not that it's an excuse, but why keep on training when you're not competing anymore. It sounds rather pathetic, but everyone at least one time in their life has been snared by this train of delusion.

Never thinking that the scale experience was horrifying enough, I went to the mall this weekend to try on clothes, and found that I had gone up not one but 2 pant sizes. Holy frenzied ego busters, Bulge-man. I felt like a ginormous, puffy, sausage trying to squeeze into my lost youth. Now 15 pounds extra doesn't sound like it should bump you up 2 whole pant sizes, but for me, extra weight goes straight to my gut and waist, and that's it. I am a classic Apple, with a pudgy belly, and stick legs. My thighs and ass never fill up with fat. Uh-uh. All the fat is restricted to the middle quadrant.

So this morning while looking in the mirror, I asked myself, which is worse, the realization that I have let myself go, and now have to wear clothes that are 2 sizes bigger than I have worn in over 10 years, or the fact that I am starting to look my age, and soon will not be able to get away with wearing a mini skirt because I'll look like the passe hag who is desperately trying to cling onto youth? I am obscurely woeful of both realizations, but that is a facet of reality from where I am sitting at the moment.

The scale: Foe or Swami

If you have battled the bulge as long as I have, then at some point, you have despised, even loathed, your scale. You have pummeled it like its OJ’s reputation, cursed “stupid worthless piece of crap”, body slammed it into the garbage can, and/or 4-wheel driven your SUV over it again and again like it was a lying, cheating, son-of-a-bitch.

Logically we know the scale is merely a tool. It’s just an inanimate object whose job is to just report the facts. The scale doesn’t spew the judgments along with the pounds. Nope. All that reckoning comes from our own unrelenting, nagging ego, the part of ourselves that desperately wants to look like Giselle Bundchen yet still be able to chow down at the buffet like it’s Super Bowl Sunday every day. As foe, the ego berates you for being a failure because the scale needle didn’t go down. The ego is real good at making you feel like the scale is the only benchmark of your value and lovability. I would even gather a bet that someone like Giselle, also gets the same, if not more, brutal brow beating from her ego when she steps on the scale and sees the numbers go higher.

Instead of scrutinizing the scale like it was the wrath of fat evil, what if we looked at it as if it were a Swami of self-love, a wise one who can help us be more caring of ourselves. When we are overweight or gaining un-needed weight, it is a sign that we are using food to medicate ourselves or fill some emotional void. As the Swami of self-love, the moving needle on the scale is actually telling us that we need to be more loving and caring of our needs. We are not failures. We just need to put light on what is hurting or bothering us because it is driving us to overeat, not exercise, and not be more loving and patient toward ourselves.

There have been countless times where I have beaten myself up and plunged head deep into potbellied depression because the scale needle didn’t move down, or it moved up signaling my approach to bigger jeans. I can tell you all the brow beating and crying did nothing to help me drop pounds. In fact, it probably added to the growing waistline because when I’m feeling the fuglies, I either munch incessantly or plant my ass on the couch for days.

When I look at the scale as a Swami of self-love, then I feel empowered and hopeful because I know it’s just telling me to look at my emotions more closely and take action in clearing my heart of the pain and frustration that is driving me to self medicate through food. Eventually, the Swami of self-love will have met it’s ultimately job when I let go of the scale for good in peace.

Poem: Sensations of Food

Garlic-laced, butter drenched, Alaskan king crab legs
Zesty vodka marinara with garden fresh basil and Roma tomatoes
Piping hot ricotta with asagio sprinkles encrusted in flaky buttery filo
Crunchy ginger snaps

Tea kettle whistle
Clanking skillets
Dicing celery on wood board
"Come and get it"

Slurp
Swirl
Twist
Quench

Brain freeze
Burning tongue
Fat lip
Intoxicated tummy

Burgers grilling on mesquite
Garlic and onion in canola sauteing
Mom's banana bread baking in the oven
Heaven scent in my heart

Domain mapping issues and Mercury retrograde

We've been having some domain mapping issues with the url www.backinskinnyjeans.com, so I apologize for the hassles. It should have been a simple thing to fix but for some reason it has not been. I am hoping the url works today.

Mercury retrograde is coming, March 2-25, so the computer issues are probably related. FYI. For those into astrology, a Mecury Retrograde affects everything related to communications which includes electronic devices like computers, cell phones, PDAs, and Blackberries, so this is the time when crashes, and technology failures will occur more often. If you haven't done a backup of your computers or cell phone/PDA numbers in awhile, I recommend you do it now. If you fax something, be sure to call your recipient and follow up to make sure they got it.

Larabar love

On your journey back to skinny jeans, you are going to need some marvelous, healthy sustenance, especially when it comes to snacks, and in my opinion, the more natural, the more excellent. Personally, I am no celery and carrot snacker because it's flat out boring, and reminds me of all those deprivation diets where you feel like you're in food prison, and then gain back 15 pounds the instant you stop the program. To me, celery="die-it".

One of the snack foods that Matt and I really like are Larabars. We ate some on our post-Valentine, hike and picnic yesterday. (Matt was out of town on business on Valentine's day so we celebrated this 3-day weekend.) Everything in these food bars are natural, and most importantly I know what the ingredients are. I began this food thing about a year ago where I started to eliminate anything artificial or processed from my eating. I figure if I do not know what the ingredient is, then why should I put it in my body? I want to be healthy and strong as I roll into my wiser and more mature years, so I can help that process by fueling my body with more natural and organic foods. I want to be like that hot 51 year-old grandma in the Bowflex commericals. She rocks!

Larabars are yummy treats, and they are convenient to carry in your purse, briefcase, or gym bag so you don't feel tempted to go through some drive-thru, or munch on something in a vending machine. My favorite flavors are the Chocolate Coconut Chew, and the Ginger Snap. Eating natural food bars sure as hell beats celery by a Barry Bonds home run.

Quick weight loss tips from the net

Boredom and skinny jeans

Matt and I have a theory. One pervasive reason many people cannot get back into their skinny jeans is because of boredom. Here’s why:

• We eat when we’re bored. Food is a fun way to kill time.
• Food never gets bored with you. You may have become a boring person but food doesn’t care. It’s always there for you when you need it.
• We’ve been emotional eating for years or even decades, so if we just stopped then we would have nothing to obsess about which will lead to boredom because obsessing about our diet and weight is egotistically exciting.
• If you make a list of ways to alleviate your boredom, you will notice that at least half of them include food or dining. You have to be conscious about not including food related activities.
• When we are bored with our lives, we eat. We use food to physically fill up that which is emotionally and spiritually lacking.
• If you didn’t fantasize about being back in your skinny jeans, then you might not have anything else interesting to fantasize about?

The last question in particular got me probing into my own psyche because this whole blog came about because of my own fantasies about being back in my skinny jeans. I have even asked myself quite often, what would it take to separate my feelings about myself from the way my body looks. It’s not as strong as it was in my 20’s but, there is a definite correlation between how good I feel about my value, my worth, and especially my lovability, to how good I look according to societal standards. When I look at the Sports Illustrated models, I start feeling like crap. When I look at Roseanne Barr, I think, “Damn I’m pretty hot!” Shallow perhaps. Real, definitely. You can’t change unless you start with the honest truth.

For you, just how much does boredom factor into your frustration of not being able to get back in your skinny jeans???

McLovin’ McSteamy

Holy, orgasmic turn of events Hotman! Last night’s Grey’s Anatomy had to be by far one of the best eye candy show’s of the year. It was all about pin-up action for the girls, and it is absolutely delicious when we get to see men in the role of gawkee. I’m not saying it’s right. I’m just saying that it’s lusty kitty fun, and that’s okay for a Sunday night during a 3-day weekend.

We got a peek at a sweaty post run Burke who then broke into pre-coital type dancing. There was Derek getting all Rocky Balboa, and let’s not forget Izzy with her oogle fests with Karev, the Beastmaster. But, THE best part was Mark, Dr. McSteamy, the ex-best friend of Derek, and dirty mister-ess of Addison, who shows up at Seattle Grace to whisk Addison back to New York, and back into his luscious, heaving, man chest. You knew that with a man this fine there was going to be some kind of shirtless scene so we could behold his Greek god looking form, and sure enough, Grey’s did not disappoint. It’s a classic reason to get TIVO.

I know Derek and Addison have been trying real hard to make their marriage work, but MAN-o-man, when something like Mark, the hunky, witty, fights-for-what-he-loves, rich, and talented plastic surgeon jets from the other side of the country to woo you back, and make you realize that your efforts with Derek are ill-fated, then there is a serious need for pause. Even my Mattie, in touch with his feminine side for a brief moment, concurred that McSteamy was a totally hot piece of fugaliciousness.

And what about Addison, what kind of ginormous luck does she have to be bumping fuglies with guys named McDreamy and McSteamy. I’d like to get a bite off her karma sandwhich. “Waiter, I’d like two please!”

Renee Zellweger in and out of her skinny jeans

This was a treat to find that iVillage has done a slide show of Renee Zelleweger's journey in and out of her skinny jeans figure starting when she all had us at hello in Jerry McGuire through Bridget Jones, and to date, post divorce from Kenny Chesney. After the slide show, you get to vote on which look you like for Renee.

Personally, I like Renee with meat on her bones. When she got down to 105 to do Chicago, I thought she just looked like a gaunt stick insect. When she did Bridget Jones I and II, and got up to 130lbs on her 5'5" frame, I thought cool, she's like the rest of us, and she looks Fugalicious! When I went to go see the movie, I was anticipating seeing Renee as some beefy, old, hefer, because that's how the press had played it up, but I just didn't see it. I was actually shocked that they considered her "fat" in that role.

Now it's your chance to voice your opinion on Renee's look at iVillage.

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