|
Return to
Current IPS Features
Return
to Catalogue
IPS
Features Staff
International
Press Service
|
|
The week of no
recovery
This
is the crazy celebration week at our house. I like to call it
"The week from which I will never recover." Calorically
speaking, that is.
Four years ago when I lost this big ton of weight I had been
carrying around with me since giving birth to three boys, I made myself
a promise that God as my witness, I'd never be hungry again. The
way that works out is simple: I would never deny myself any of my
favorite treats- I would simply exercise off the calories taken in and
burn those old chips and dips off my thighs. Generally speaking, this
has worked like gangbusters. Because when it comes down to it; I usually
have one really decadent day of sloppy, piggy eating one day a week. I
exercise every day of the week and it all comes out in the wash. Or the
gym. But this week- oh this is the week I dread every year. Dread
coupled with great anticipation. LET THE CALORIEFEST BEGIN!
It starts on Saturday with my birthday. My husband has finally seen the
light and has taken to buying me decadent treats from a local bakery.
This year saw the introduction (and I hope the first annual appearance)
of petite fours along with the traditional birthday cake. And what
birthday is complete without a big meal out on the town? No birthday, I
tell ya, and it has got to be big cheesy pizza from my favorite
Greek pizzeria. I don't know why, but for me, birthday happiness = big
time eating of all greasy, sugary, fattening foods to such excess that I
cannot move for days.
Only I better if I want to burn off those extra calories- QUICK before
the following Friday when my husband and I celebrate our 21st wedding
anniversary. We are incorporating one of his business trips around this
celebratory day which means, you guessed it, more dining out; this time
for DAYS in advance of the actual celebration which will still need to
be ushered in with massive dining, drinking and desserting. (Is
desserting actual a verb? Well,
it is around here this week!)
The VERY NEXT DAY after my anniversary is my youngest's son's birthday.
(Laboring with him was the one time in 21 years that I didn't get to eat
my usual cubic ton of anniversary food). He, in the true spirit of being
my son, likes the day to be about the EATS. He begins planning where we
will eat out almost a year in advance. Last year, as we left his
birthday meal, he was saying, "I think next year I'd like to eat at
Red Lobster." That's my boy. His day also means another appearance
of my old favorite- birthday cake- and lots of it. We generally take in
a movie (popcorn and pop, just for starters) and sometimes do a bit of
cosmic bowling. (Well, yes, TECHNICALLY you could forgo the candy at the
bowling alley, but really, that just wouldn't seem much like a birthday,
would it?)
You can see why this all has me in a tizzy. For the past three years I
have made my way through this week like a soldier through a minefield,
carefully stepping over traps and obvious bombs (three pieces of cake in
one day is a bit too much, even for me). I then have to redouble,
triple, even quadruple my already strenuous exercise routines to the
point that the week following all the celebration looks something like a
segment clip from the Dr. Phil weight-loss program. Of course, all of
this COULD be avoided just by, say, substituting angel food cake for
calorie laden butter cream topped petite fours, or, by ordering grilled
salmon and fresh veggies instead of chowing down on fetticuni alfredo.
But alas and alack for me, I don't do deprivation (or my perceived
notion of such) very well, and I am afraid that a nib of broccoli in my
teeth at my anniversary dinner might send me spiraling into an
anti-celebratory mode. THE LIKES OF FROM WHICH I MIGHT NEVER RECOVER!!!
And then, I ask you, how much fun will my son have on his birthday the
next day? All he needs is a broccoli choking down, calorie deprived
mother to set a tone of doom and gloom which could potentially scar him
for life. I certainly don't need that riding on my shoulders. So,
instead, I'll worry in advance about all I am about to consume, enjoy
every morsel as I ingest, and frantically work out to burn off that
extra forty zillion calories the following week. It is the least I can
do to help keep this week the celebration it has always been.
|
