Don't Tempt Me

I read a lot of blogs, and from those blogs I often explore links that lead me to other articles and video information.

A few days ago Pasta Queen talked about watching the PBS show "Fat: What No One is Telling You"(this link takes you to the web site where you can watch it online). So yesterday afternoon I had a little time to kill (who, me?!?) and I watched a few chapters of it.

Comedian Mary Dimino is featured in this show, and a comment she made in the beginning of the show has been haunting me. She's on the treadmill, sweating up a storm, and says that she has to work this hard, twice as hard even than a lot of people, just to maintain her level of chubbiness (she had been a size 28 and was considerably smaller but not skinny).

Lord could I relate to that! As I was finishing my 3-mile walk outside this morning I thought about the people in the houses I passed, the ones who don't exercise as much as I do or rarely look at a fruit or vegetable, and they can maintain physiques much smaller than mine. They may not be any healthier, but when it comes down to pure poundage, I do have to work hellishly hard just to keep myself at a range that a lot of people would consider a fate worse than death.

I'm not done watching the entire show, but I have to admit the first few chapters have added to the discouragement I felt from the AP article I mentioned in yesterday's post. When I hear these experts saying how incredibly hard, almost impossible, it is to fight our body's instinctual drive to eat and maintain our current weight level, even if it is way above normal, it's hard to feel optimistic that I can ever succeed.

I suppose that's what helped propel a cranky mood last night when Mabel asked for ice cream. We have this little ice cream stand right down the street that's only open six months a year, and they have very good soft serve and a wide variety of options for toppings, etc. I didn't want any ice cream, I didn't even have a desire or craving for it, but for some reason the fact that I had to go wait in line, order it and carry it home for Mabel (she was riding her bike) irritated the crap out of me. I could understand my frustration if I was really fighting back the urge to order one of my favorite sundaes there, but I was strangely uninterested in it.

I guess it was being put in the situation that irked me so. Our society is so incredibly hard on fat people: so much of our day is bombarded with visions of food and opportunities to eat, but if you succumb to this constant temptation you're labeled weak, lazy and stupid.

It didn't help that when we got home from the ice cream stand Hubby had gotten home from his baseball game and was digging into a large pizza. He's the statistician for the high school team, and now that the weather's nice they have games almost every night. Because he's not getting home until 7, 7:30 p.m., he's been picking up supper on his way home: fast food drive-thrus, or in this instance, pizza.

Again, I didn't start salivating at the sight of the pizza, and didn't even crave it when Hubby commented how good it was. But the fact that it was there just set me off. Is it crazy to be mad at food for trying to tempt me, even if it doesn't? That can't be normal.

I suppose I should just be happy that I wasn't going crazy from cravings and urges to eat all that junk food. But the anger over it is odd. I guess I'm in a love-hate stage with food, because let's face it: I love grilled asparagus, big ripe strawberries and the nuttiness of brown rice. And those are good things to love. I just wish I could be a little less consumed with food overall, whether it's negative or positive feelings. I want to be nonchalant, lackadaisical, devil-may-care. Yeah, that would be nice.