Is it wrong to watch Food Network while you're on the treadmill?
I do this all the time. There's little I like better (when I HAVE to be on the treadmill) than watching cooking shows while I walk in place. And yet other people seem to think it's a tad odd. I look around, and everyone else is watching something edifying...like the news...or...something inspiring like sports. And I'm watching Paula Dean make lime butter pancakes. Those bastards catching up on their Sports Center who are all thin and who can all run faster than I can, do THEY know how to make lime-butter pancakes?
Probably not.
One of my friends said that watching Food Network while working out was like porn. I'm not sure he's seen porn in a long time, but I sort of understand what he means. Food Network isn't going to lead me to deviant behaviour, though. I'm not going to go home and make lime butter pancakes. That takes work! I was just on the treadmill! I'm tired! I want to collapse on the couch with the next episode of The Wire and a cup of tea.
So it's not like the 'milling and grilling is doing me any harm. The...jogging and eggnogging. The treading and breading. The...I'm out of food references. Joke over.
I'm slowly letting go of the idea that when I get thin, I'll be able to eat whatever I want. I mean, I KNEW that before but I was sort of hoping that it wouldn't apply to me. And watching FN kind of helps me figure out some of the things that I should be steering away from; know what's not appetizing? Sweating so much that you're afraid you're going to short circuit the machine and watching a cupcake minion dump three cups of sugar and three sticks of butter into a blender. I feel diabetic just watching it. So to ME, FN is the equivalent of spending 45 minutes a day watching the "This is your brain, this is your brain on drugs" commercial over and over.
Any questions?
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Street Walkin' (Warning: Strong Language)
I was walking down Broadway this evening, in Fells, and some guy hollered at me from his car.
In my slimmer, sexier days, I got this a lot. I think that this is because people really, really like yelling things out of car windows. I know I do. I have a friend who, days after the release of Harry Potter 6, rolled down my passenger side window and screamed "SNAPE KILLS DUMBLEDORE". People yell stuff out of windows all the time. It's not like the person you're screaming at can get a good look at you, right? So why not? When I used to get catcalled, I'd never see who it was...but I'm lying if I tell you it didn't put a bounce in my step.
I got hollered at today, and the guy yelled "LOSE WEIGHT, BITCH!".
That fucker. That absolutely immature fucker. I could kick him in the balls and lose no sleep over it.
And the worst part about it was, I didn't scream something right back. Five minutes later, I started cobbling together some choice, profanity laden phrases, but my asshole observer was probably half way to the Shot Tower by the time I thought to get my mouth open.
No, when he yelled at me, all I could think was "Oh, my God. Everyone on the street thinks I'm a fat bitch. I need to get off the street." Like there was a spotlight illuminating my every bulge.
I wanted to melt right on the stupid cobblestones.
I wanted to die. I wanted to be invisible.
And that is such BULLSHIT.
I told some friends (and one complete stranger at the Goodwill who turned out to be totally cool) about it, two women and three men. And all three men had the same "that's f'ed up, that asshole" reaction. The women? Both of them, without my even having to go into how I felt about it, said that if it had happened to them, they'd feel awful about themselves. They could tell themselves that it's probable this dude was a) all of sixteen, b) drunk, or c)both, but that that wouldn't matter. These two women both freely admitted that they would be mired in the same emotions that swamped me.
These women that I spoke with, both were funny,and articulate, attractive, and were a pleasure to talk to. Neither of them have, in my opinion, much of a reason to feel any of the adjectives they'd mentioned; "small", "wrong", "worthless". The fact that some jerk's throw away comment could resonate in the same manner with three separate women who all happen to be overweight - is this merely a confidence thing? A case of "I'm having a bad day, and buddy, you picked the wrong time to yell" Or is it the price we pay for being outside of the social norm (though are we really? What's the stats on obesity these days)? Should these comments spurn me into action, get me to the gym more and back on track with my diet, to avoid another such incident, or should I go about my business as usual, since there are assholes everywhere and if it's not my weight, it'll be something else? My...worn out kicks, or something.
There's a memoir-ist named Jennifer Lancaster ( http://www.jennsylvania.com ) who wrote a book called "Such a Pretty Fat", and she talks about being called a fat bitch on the bus. She used this experience to spring board her weight loss efforts, parlayed that into a book deal, and got on with her transformation from fat to "fit bitch". Jennifer, if you google yourself and this blog comes up, I read the book in one sitting, in a Barnes and Noble cafe. It was hysterical. I should also mention that I did not BUY the book, but only because I am po'. I always figured that if something like that happened to me, I'd take it on the chin like Jen did, and keep on keeping on. Instead, it ruined my evening, and inspired a badly written, badly spelled, grammatically incorrect blog post that you people have to sit through.
I would like to say one last thing, though.
In the beginning of this post, I mentioned that I used to get catcalled out of car windows, and that it put a spring in my step. Just as I'm not the only woman who would feel the slow slide of shame and the white hot insecurity seeking floodlight when being yelled at the the Fells Point Fucker, I KNOW I'm not the only one who enjoys a compliment torn from someones lips at 30mph. So, how about we all try that. These compliments don't have to be sexual in nature. If you see some cool pedestrian doing his thing, and he's got some nice threads, would it kill you to yell out "dig your shirt"? Or, maybe "hey man, have a good day", when you're at a stop sign and you wave someone to cross the street. I don't know. Maybe we can start a complimentary revolution, or something. Think about it. Or better yet, roll down your window and yell.
In my slimmer, sexier days, I got this a lot. I think that this is because people really, really like yelling things out of car windows. I know I do. I have a friend who, days after the release of Harry Potter 6, rolled down my passenger side window and screamed "SNAPE KILLS DUMBLEDORE". People yell stuff out of windows all the time. It's not like the person you're screaming at can get a good look at you, right? So why not? When I used to get catcalled, I'd never see who it was...but I'm lying if I tell you it didn't put a bounce in my step.
I got hollered at today, and the guy yelled "LOSE WEIGHT, BITCH!".
That fucker. That absolutely immature fucker. I could kick him in the balls and lose no sleep over it.
And the worst part about it was, I didn't scream something right back. Five minutes later, I started cobbling together some choice, profanity laden phrases, but my asshole observer was probably half way to the Shot Tower by the time I thought to get my mouth open.
No, when he yelled at me, all I could think was "Oh, my God. Everyone on the street thinks I'm a fat bitch. I need to get off the street." Like there was a spotlight illuminating my every bulge.
I wanted to melt right on the stupid cobblestones.
I wanted to die. I wanted to be invisible.
And that is such BULLSHIT.
I told some friends (and one complete stranger at the Goodwill who turned out to be totally cool) about it, two women and three men. And all three men had the same "that's f'ed up, that asshole" reaction. The women? Both of them, without my even having to go into how I felt about it, said that if it had happened to them, they'd feel awful about themselves. They could tell themselves that it's probable this dude was a) all of sixteen, b) drunk, or c)both, but that that wouldn't matter. These two women both freely admitted that they would be mired in the same emotions that swamped me.
These women that I spoke with, both were funny,and articulate, attractive, and were a pleasure to talk to. Neither of them have, in my opinion, much of a reason to feel any of the adjectives they'd mentioned; "small", "wrong", "worthless". The fact that some jerk's throw away comment could resonate in the same manner with three separate women who all happen to be overweight - is this merely a confidence thing? A case of "I'm having a bad day, and buddy, you picked the wrong time to yell" Or is it the price we pay for being outside of the social norm (though are we really? What's the stats on obesity these days)? Should these comments spurn me into action, get me to the gym more and back on track with my diet, to avoid another such incident, or should I go about my business as usual, since there are assholes everywhere and if it's not my weight, it'll be something else? My...worn out kicks, or something.
There's a memoir-ist named Jennifer Lancaster ( http://www.jennsylvania.com ) who wrote a book called "Such a Pretty Fat", and she talks about being called a fat bitch on the bus. She used this experience to spring board her weight loss efforts, parlayed that into a book deal, and got on with her transformation from fat to "fit bitch". Jennifer, if you google yourself and this blog comes up, I read the book in one sitting, in a Barnes and Noble cafe. It was hysterical. I should also mention that I did not BUY the book, but only because I am po'. I always figured that if something like that happened to me, I'd take it on the chin like Jen did, and keep on keeping on. Instead, it ruined my evening, and inspired a badly written, badly spelled, grammatically incorrect blog post that you people have to sit through.
I would like to say one last thing, though.
In the beginning of this post, I mentioned that I used to get catcalled out of car windows, and that it put a spring in my step. Just as I'm not the only woman who would feel the slow slide of shame and the white hot insecurity seeking floodlight when being yelled at the the Fells Point Fucker, I KNOW I'm not the only one who enjoys a compliment torn from someones lips at 30mph. So, how about we all try that. These compliments don't have to be sexual in nature. If you see some cool pedestrian doing his thing, and he's got some nice threads, would it kill you to yell out "dig your shirt"? Or, maybe "hey man, have a good day", when you're at a stop sign and you wave someone to cross the street. I don't know. Maybe we can start a complimentary revolution, or something. Think about it. Or better yet, roll down your window and yell.
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