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Destinations, Dreams and Dogs - International adventure with a fast-track family (& dogs) of Old World values, adopting the Russian-Italian-American good life on the go…!

Weighty Matters

My birthday’s coming up and I’m reassessing life. As the years have passed, with the arrival of every child, I’ve put on a bit of weight. Like the stock market, it goes up, it goes down. Lately, I seem to be in a rally that would make even Goldman Sachs proud. But extra weight is a normal occurrence for most women adding to their family.

It’s then that I remember: we adopted.

Somehow, I still feel that the blame is mostly theirs for this pudgy predicament. The children were not babies nor toddlers, constantly on the move, making Big Mama move with them. Instead, they were older children, driving me to distraction.

And distraction is very, very bad when it comes to eating. “Mindless eating”, experts call it, and it’s leading to our nation’s demise. In my circular sense of reasoning, I lost my mind…. due to my kids… which resulted in lots of mindless eating… because of them. Got it?

But, isn’t most eating mindless? I mean, I use my mind for many things, and planning every bite of every day is not one of those things. We might be on to something here.

Anyway, it can’t be my fault that I’m expanding with every year, if not every moment. Studies show that weight gain is also usually linked to a high level of disinhibition. What are they inferring, I’m a nudist or something-?! Which would mean then that all nudists are fat… and by natural deduction… I should be thin!

I know I tend to eat on the fly and maybe that’s the problem. Bariatric doctors say it helps to sit down and savor the food–no eating over the stove, or sink, or while running to the next appointment.

Now, what fun is that? Not to mention counterintuitive. Sitting burns less calories than standing or moving. Yet, I imagine sitting there and staring at three carrot sticks would be a meaningful moment. We could call it “focused, functional eating”.

Rather boring.

I need to make time for myself. As they say, “If Mama ain’t happy….” However, with two boys, two girls, two dogs, and two adults under one roof, what time of day or night would that be???

Weight loss counselors note that the majority of overweight individuals would benefit from practicing the HALT principle: recognizing that they’re eating when Hungry, Angry, Lonely, or Tired.

Would scoring three out of four on this test be dangerous? Listen, if we do away with emotional eating, such as during special celebrations and happy events, then we have to be left with times of turmoil and trouble, on the other hand.

Maybe I have an unresolved anger issue. Or a hunger issue if I’m not to eat whenever I’m hungry. What’s left? To eat for amusement?

It could be that I’m tired. Researchers say that skinny women are on their feet an extra 2-1/2 hours per day. I’d like to know if those skinny minnies are wearing heels. If they’re in clunky white tennis shoes, then count me out. Just forget it, I’d rather be a lounging couch lizard in heels.

Plus, sleek sistahs sleep 17 minutes more per day. Did you know that? That puts a new spin on beauty sleep. Does that mean that if I simply slept 17 minutes more per day, I would be thin? Maybe if it’s sleeping through lunch or dinner.

Another possibility is that I fear hunger. Perhaps I’ve internally absorbed my orphan children’s past and am eating to nullify and negate their once-upon-a-time starvation. You never know.

I read an article that suggested, “Act like you’re a size smaller and you’ll be a size smaller.” Well, shazam, why didn’t you say that in the first place?

I’m not sure what they mean by “act”. I can only imagine the mime Marcel Marceau silently reshaping me into a tidy, tiny package of a person. And if it means wearing smaller-sized clothing, BTDT.

They weren’t smaller-sized in the beginning. They were slightly large, actually. But now, by not caving in and buying larger clothing, all it results in is a raw, red line at the waist, and a “muffin top” popping out over the sides of the waistband. Really smart… suffer, rather than suck it up and buy some new duds for a temporary situation that others may not even notice, anyway.

Sigh. My birthday’s coming and I’m conflicted over whether I should be happy, sad, tired, angry, or hungry when that flaming torch of a cake arrives and I’m expected to eat the first bite.

Will one bite do me in?

Probably not. The cake batter and frosting will tip the scales long before that.


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