I don't know when I first heard that quip but it has stuck with me, just like every cookie I've eaten in the past ten years. And every brownie. And every potato chip. And every second helping. And every alcoholic beverage.
I used to be thin. See?
Now I am plump. Chubby. Tubby. Fat, even. I know this from looking at recent photos and, ugh, at my reflection in those damnable inventions called mirrors. At the same time, my body image hasn't fully caught up to reality. On the one hand, I am conscious of all of my parts that jiggle inappropriately. On the other hand, as much as I kid about it, I haven't managed to internalize the fact that I have become a Large Woman. It's similar to having a phantom limb, only I have an entire phantom body, a thin one, enveloped by fat. I sense the presence of my formerly thin body as strongly as if it were still here.
I haven't altered my eating habits to make up for my slowing metabolism. I have allowed the odd ache, pain, strain or sprain to keep me from exercising regularly. I hate perspiring, which is apparently a necessary element of most forms of exercise. Swimming is relatively sweat-free, but I can't bring myself to go to a pool; even my formerly thin self didn't look so hot in a bathing suit. I recall vowing to start exercising in earnest after being shocked by the cross-section of an obese man's body at Body Worlds. Just seeing that the fat in a human body looks exactly like the fat in a cut of beef or pork disgusted me. Of course, while the image stayed with me, the inclination to exercise faded. What can I do to convince myself to get active? Either of the following scenarios might motivate me:
A few days ago I asked Scott to help me move my stationary bike from our abandoned basement to the main floor of our house. While the bike isn't linked to the speed of my internet connection, I am hopeful that its new location will be effective. After all, it is positioned where I often am: directly in front of the television. Of course, it also happens to be near the refrigerator. Who knows if I'll actually have the willpower to use the bike and resist the temptation of the fridge. All I do know is that I'm not going to make any New Year's resolutions regarding my weight or my diet; resolutions appear to be the surest way to kill good intentions.