There are a set of things that females experience in life that are pretty common threads -- in my generation eating disorders and body image issues were second only to mean girls and catty, passive aggressive competition disguised as friendship on the scale of things that fucked us up. (Ok, maybe these come after divorce, alcoholic parents, and unrealistic expectations thanks to romantic comedies...but whatever, they're up near the top).
Somehow, though, I managed to make it through life without having these problems. I was always fairly happy with my body (or rather I didn't really think about it too much) and pretty much always felt free to eat whatever I wanted. I never really put too much thought into it. Until now...
I have now experienced another common experience -- I've reached the age where I can no longer just do whatever I want and be "thin" and "beautiful". As such I've put on about 20 lbs. over the last 3 years or so. Still, this didn't bother me that much until last weekend, when I went to the Old Navy to try on bathing suits.
This was a mistake for many reasons.
1. Old Navy DOES NOT make bathing suits for people approaching 30. They just don't. What they DO is make bathing suits for 14 year olds in bigger sizes as though doing so somehow magically makes these monstrosities age-appropriate and/or figure flattering in some way.
2. The lighting in the fitting rooms...this is not unique to Old Navy, it's everywhere. But something about the combination of glaring fluorescent overhead lighting and a pop-punk remake of You're Just Too Good To Be True made my back fat look even lumpier.
3. A woman shouting into a bullhorn about $10 bathing suits. Nuff said.
To make matters worse, I asked Matt to come back to the fitting room so I could show him the bathing suits. Now, right off the bat let me say that I never set foot out of that fitting room in a bathing suit. Because for some reason I was not willing to allow the person who regularly sees me naked to see me in one of these uber-flammable, ill-fitting sausage casings. I guess maybe this is because when I'm naked we're either about to or just have had sex and things like lumpy thighs and belly fat matter less.
Sidebar here, Matt is training for a marathon. He's not in spectacular shape (yet) but he's burning something insane like 800 calories a day doing all this running, so I figure it's only a matter of time until he's like, super man.
Given these factors, I decided it's about time I get my increasingly fat ass in gear and at least make an effort. So I started dabbling in some Comcast On-Demand workout videos. My favorite was Goddess Cardio Bellydance, in which the woman running the video would say ridiculous things such as the following:
"Just think of all the boring things people around the world are doing right now. And you decided to spend your time doing this."
and
"The next time you have an argument, like over a parking space, try doing the shimmy and see how the conversation goes."
But this and yoga was not cutting it, so I stepped it up and started the "10 Pound Slimdown" plan. Basically, this woman has created a calendar and 5 20 minute workouts. She's mapped out which workouts you should do on which day and promises that I will lose 10 pounds in 8 weeks if I do this.
I actually really like the workouts because they are hard but not so hard that I have to look at the television and say, "Bitch, you have got to be kidding me." or shout "No I fucking can't!" when she says "You can do it!"
I also like the structure of the calendar. I need some accountability in this project. Which made me think...surely there's some kind of fancy internet tool that will help me manage my food intake vs. my exercise and tell me if I'm basically in the right area.
Sure as shit, there are many such tools! I've latched on to one known as The Daily Plate, and I will say that it is very handy. Basically, you put everything that you eat into it, and all the physical activity that you do, and it helps you balance this all out and see how you're doing -- not just on calories but other things like sugars, cholesterol, all that shit.
Super cool, right? Shya! Except for...I've already spent the first two hours of my day entering food and exercise and calculating calories and basically geeking out over the chart and spreadsheet options. I am comforted by the neat and orderly nature my eating and exercise has taken, and the level of control this allows me to have over it all. And if you think that sounds dangerously close to an eating disorder, don't think that thought hasn't crossed my mind.
But wait, there's more! This particular website has a social networking component (how novel!) in which you can become "friends" with other users and do things like Share your food and exercise log on Facebook and Like other people's food and exercise logs. For a generation of people who grew up on Alicia Silverstone's Cher ("I had 5 peanut butter M&M's and I feel like such a heifer") how can this be good? I see the honorable intent of this (supportive environment, encouragement, etc.) but I can't imagine the "helpful" and "encouraging" comments that must come from the "friends" that one makes on this site.
Friend-making is another minefield of the female experience (evidence: the creation of the term "frienemy") to say nothing of the actual level of "friend-ness" that is even possible with social networking friends. So, thanks a lot, Daily Plate, but I'll take my computer or my Nintendo Wii judging me over strangers online any day.
