I’m Officially Fat: Time for a Healthy Choice Giveaway

Congratulations are in order.  Because I have accomplished the impossible.  I now weigh what I weighed when I returned home from the hospital after giving birth to twins ten years ago.

Yes, it’s true.  What it took nine months and two actual human being growing inside of my body to accomplish, I’ve managed to do all my own!!!

Yay me.

In case you, too, would like to achieve this milestone, here’s how I did it:

1. The Internet -I spend five to six hours a day sitting on my butt staring at the computer screen writing for this blog, or for TravelingMom.com.  Or podcasting or posting for Blogging Angels. Or working on the business plan for my soon-to-be-announced new venture.

Which all means that my butt is completely mushy, but my fingers are in remarkably good shape – -what with all the typing.

2. Orlando – Now I’m not complaining, but I just went on a three night all expense paid trip to the super luxurious Waldorf Astoria in Orlando. (yes, you read that right, Orlando, Florida has a Waldorf.  And yes, it really is super luxurious, not tacky luxurious.)  The trip was basically eating punctuated by events that involved little to no physical exertion: massages, shopping, lounging by the pool. (you can read all about it here.)

So – and I repeat – I AM NOT COMPLAINING – But (you knew there was going to be a butt but.) all of that eating, and OK, drinking, my two trips to the empty and well-equipped Waldorf Astoria gym notwithstanding, did not do a lot for my bottom line.  Well, it did a lot.  Just the wrong a lot.  If you know what I mean.

3. Trader Joe’s.  Trader Joe”s:  I love you.  I love your prices.  I love your vibe.  I love your funny little signs.  Sadly, I also love all of your nut-filled (i.e. fat filled) trail mixes.  Damn you, NY Landmark Preservation Society.  Had you acted faster, Trader Joe’s would not be tempting me with it’s delicious snacks!

4. My Kids’ Laptops – Before my kids were required to bring their laptops back and forth from school, I walked them to school, then walked home, then walked back to school to get them, then walked home again.  For a grand total of  5.5 miles.

Now, they have laptops.  And even with the wheely bags, it’s too hard to schlepp across the park. So now the kids take the school bus, I walk the dog for 30 minutes, and then it’s back to the computer – aka sitting on my ass.

5. Me.  I am not above taking responsibility for my own actions.  I eat too much.  I don’t exercise enough.  So sue me. Please. Because a law suit, that might cost me so much money I wouldn’t have anything left for food, and I would LOSE weight.

So what am I gonna do about it?

1. Zumba Fitness® Classes -A few weeks ago, I went to an event for the Zumba Fitness® videogame for Wii, Playstation Moe, Playstation® 3 and Xbox Kinect.  I tried it.  It was hard.  It was fun.  It was really really good exercise.  And since – with the new game – I can do Zumba Fitness® in my living room, I will no longer have the excuse of not being able to get to the gym.  See the new Zumba Fitness® game (and yes, they told me I have to keep on using that little copyright symbol EVERY SINGLE TIME I SAY ZUMBA, I mean Zumba.®) lets you pick the length of your routine, the difficulty level, the music – even the setting.  And you get to dance around like a lunatic without anyone getting to see your jiggly bits.(like Niecy Nash says)

Check it out:

I like this idea.

When the Zumba Fitness® Game finally comes out,On November 18th, I will buy it — yes, with my very own money.  And I will do it.  Not only to lose weight, but because it was fun.  Yes – I have called a form of exercise fun.  Call the papers.  Or the FBI – someone has kidnapped my exercise hating self.

Until Novmeber 18th, until, that is, the Zumba Fitness® Game is available,  it’s the gym for me.  And ballroom twice a week, and yoga.  Because there are no Zumba fitness® classes during the day in NYC, and daytime is my workout time. Just the way it is. Plus, by the time November 18th rolls around, I’ll have – well, less rolls around, and I won’t feel so awkward playing the game.

And how will I have lost the rolls?  By replacing one meal a day with a Healthy Choice Cafe Steamers frozen entree.

Full Disclosure:  I am going to use my Healthy Choice coupons for free frozen diet food that actually tastes…like food!  That actually has an ingredient list with a normal number of perfectly pronounceable ingredients. (I like the mushroom risotto) And that has – wait for it – NO PRESERVATIVES.

And because I am so nice, I’m going to give away a few of those coupons too.  Leave a comment below – telling me what caused you to need to eat Healthy Choice, and I will send two lucky winners two coupons each for a free Healthy Choice entree. (If you just leave a “I want to win” comment, you won’t be entered. )

So – wait – I’m going to eat right, and exercise?

Call the papers!

Contest open to US residents 18 and older. Contest ends Oct 22nd at 11pm eastern.  Two winners will be picked at random by random.org.

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My Big Fat Summer

The day before yesterday I left my parents’ country house and drove into the city where the first thing I did, as usual, was weigh myself.  Way to ruin my day.

At least it’s blog fodder, I thought.  I can write about how everyone always talks about how easy it is to lose weight in the summer – but I gain.  I can talk about how everyone says living in the city is unhealthy, but the second I get to the country I stop exercising and get my very own suburban sprawl.

And then I paused – because something about it rang a bell.  I felt like I’d written it before.  You know why?  I had.  Twice, as a matter of fact.

Yes, it’s true.  This is the third year in a row that I’ve been out in the country for the summer and gained weight. And it’s the third year in a row that I’m shocked, I tell you.  Simply shocked! That such a thing could happen.

In a post called “My XL Problem with Suburban Sprawl,” I wrote about how much time I spent that summer sitting on my every-growing ass.  In another post,(and another year) I wrote about how my parents meal-time extravaganzas had taken their toll.

And here I am, year three.  Still surprised that it’s happening all over again.

What’s really shocking is my stunning inability to recognize the reality that driving everywhere whilst sitting on my ass + eating big meals + not owning a decent scale = Love handles and a lovely double chin.

Oh.  And back fat.  Gotta love the back fat.

You know the funny thing?  I went shopping yesterday and bought a pair of pants…in a size eight.  Size eight?  ONE of my ass cheeks is a size eight right now.  Vanity sizing is NOT helping me.  It is just deluding me into believing that I am still  – 7.5 pounds later –  a size eight.

Ha.

Maybe I should put on a bathing suit and look in the mirror.

That should be a reality check.

And if I faint from the reality – don’t wake me up.  Maybe I’ll lose a few pounds if I stay unconscious through a meal or two.

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Stomach Flu: Where are you when I need You?

Yes, it’s true – I’ve been gone a while.

Why?

Oh — I don’t know.  Maybe it’s the VIRULENT stomach flu coursing through my entire family.

Even the dog threw up.  Seriously.

First it was my son.  On vacation. In Florida.  Perfect weather.  Beautiful Gulf of Mexico waters.  We stayed inside for almost the entire time.  He was being sick to his stomach.  I was expanding mine.

I mean, really, what else was there to do stuck in a condo with a sick kid while my husband and other kid went out to the beach and the pool and on a bike ride? Eat!!! (And no, I don’t blame hubby.  Sick kids (at least mine) want their Mommy when they’re sick.)

Then we got home.  Two weeks of family togetherness…finally coming to an end!

That’s when my daughter got the stomach flu.  Then my husband. (the worst patient of all….but let’s not go there, shall we?)

We’re going on three weeks of someone in my family being sick to his or her stomach.

In other words, three weeks of me spending WAY too much time at home near the refrigerator, the pantry, the stash of Halloween Candy that never got eaten.  Seriously.

All that Swine Flu and Pneumonia for nothing!!!  At least after that I was thin. And I kept off half of it until this round of illness.

Now what I want to know is…where’s the colon cleansing stomach bug when I need it?  Where’s the quick route to weight loss that I crave?  Nope, it’s back to counting points and weighing portions.

Ugh.

Happy Spring and summer is just around the corner and I’m gonna have to put on a bathing suit everybody!

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The Post I Would Have Written If I Had the Time

I don’t really have time to post today:
Sick dog (for a change)
Stinky Dog (just bathed him. fun fun fun)
Daughter needs socks brought to her at school on the other side of town. (don’t ask)
Dryer broken
Going back to Yoga (finally…I hope)
No food in house. (though I did get Fresh Direct yesterday…so I don’t really get it) Must go shopping.
Actual (paid) work assignment to complete. (shocking, I know.)
Much incredibly smelly laundry (sick dog is pooping inside again. Fun fun fun.)

You’re all jealous now, right? Because I have such a wonderful life.

And now, as a complete non-sequitor, the Today Show is in the background, and they just announced that marriage makes you fat. Yay! Single women gain 11 lbs over ten years. Married women gain double that. But God bless Piers Morgan…he just announced that he thinks that’s great. He wants his model-thin girlfriend to bulk-up. I think I’m in love.

ANYHOO- here’s the post I would have written if I had had the time. It pretty much sums up how I’m feeling today. And while you read it, imagine me doing lunges. That’s what I did. (Imagined me doing them. I didn’t actually do them. Puh-lease. Did you see that list of things I’ve got to do?)

Click and read. Click and Read.

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Who's Afraid of the Water Park? Me, that's who.

I have trekked through the rain forests of Costa Rica.  I have biked 18 miles up-hill to the top of  Mount Constitution in Washington State. I have traveled through Turkey – by myself – with blond hair.  But the ideaof going to Splish Splash Water Park terrifies me.

It’s not the possibility of drowning *though there is that), or the inherent germiness of being in a place where so much, and so many, are so damp. (Though there is that, too.)  I’m afraid of it because it means I’ll have to wear a bathing suit in public for an extended period of time.

To read the rest of this post, click here.

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Ageless Body? Yeah, right.

Long ago, I discovered the secret to buying (passably) flattering bathing suits: the worse you look the more you pay. (Hence, the Karla Coletto bazillion dollar(and worth every penny) bathing suit.)  I then learned the secret to feeling young and attractive: hang out with the septaugenarians.  I’ve bemoaned the new fahion-math: in Hollywood, size six is the new size twelve. I’ve questioned the new age-math (not new-age math, mind you, but new age-math) which tries to tell us that 40 is the new thirty, and 80 is the new sixty.  By that logic, I’m actually getting younger every year.

Still, nothing prepared me for my recent beach-side discovery:  post-forty, bodies age exponentially.

Think about it: what was your body like at 20?  Was it so different at 25?  At 30? Probably not. As a matter of fact,  I was actually in better shape at 32 than I was at 22.  At 32 I was working out, jogging, eating right.  At 22 I was living in Paris, smoking, drinking wine, and thought exercise was something I only had to do in America, and only then when some oversized PE teacher was forcing me.

Now think of your body at 38.  Then at forty.  Then at 42. (If you haven’t reached this milestone, don’t read on: you might not want to know what’s next).  Still the same body?  Not so much, huh?

Last year, I noticed that my knees were wrinkling. Knees!! What the hell can you do about that?  This year, my quads have joined in.  Mind you, I weigh less (thank you Weight Watchers) this year than I did last,  and the muscles are still under there: yoga and Nia, and weight training, and even ballroom dancing sees to that.  But my skin doesn’t care.  My skin is aging.  Fast.

So is the rest of me.  Today, I went to Tip Top Shoes to try to find stylish shoes that don’t bother my back or my bunion. There, I said it.  BUNION.  If that doesn’t say “your body is aging” well, what does? (By the way stylkish shoes adn bunion really don’t go together. I don’t care what Mephisto says.)

Then there’s the fact that I can no longer drink alcohol.  I was never much of a drinker.  Maybe a few glasses of wine once or twice a month.  But now?  ONE glass, and I’m out of commission for three days. Jeez.

It isn’t that I don’t want to get older (well, I don’t, but that’s not the point) The point is, why is it happening so fast?  I pretty much looked the same from the time I was 20 until I was thirty.  There were little changes – maybe my skin wasn’t quite as vibrant – but overall, the changes were just a difference – not a decline.

So all this leads me to one thing:  should I change the name of my blog?  Let’s face it, agelessbodytimelessmom.com is quite a mouthful, quite a thing to type in, and awfully hard to remember, from what I gather. (Does no one get the Deepak Chopra reference?  Anyone? Anyone?)

I have been working on a manuscript for a while now, it’s called: From Hip to Housewife in Two Kids Flat.  So I’m asking here — should I change my website’s name to FromHiptoHousewife.com?  FromHip2Housewife.com?  Or just keep it as is.  Because, let’s face it, despite my best attempts, I’m not exactly ageless here.  

Votes welcome.  Vote, please, and fast.  I’m not getting any younger.

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NYC Moms Blog Post: My Daughter Thinks She's Fat and It's all my Fault

Swimsuit season is upon us.  And with it the onslaught of diet ads on tv, magazines with pics of celebs caught having actual cellulite, and me, bemoaning my post-partum, post-forty, past passing for anything but middle-aged body.

Though I am, if I am completely, intellectually honest, neither truly fat, or particularly unattractive, I have made a life (and something of a writing career) of comically dissecting my physical flaws.  I’m the self-appointed Queen of Bad Body Image, chronicling on line and in print my twenty year quest to lose the same ten pounds.  I’ve joked about the fact that my belly button seems to be frowning, that the only men who find me attractive are septuagenarians, that I’ve chosen to paint my daughter’s room the same lavender color as my newly acquired varicose veins.

Ha Ha.  Nudge nudge.  Wink Wink. Very funny.  Until this morning, when my daughter refused to eat breakfast because, she told me through her tears, the boys in her class had told her she was fat.

Want to read the rest of this post?  Click here to go to NYC Moms Blog. (and while you’re there, leave a comment, wouldja?)

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Youngening: It's true! We're all getting younger!

Forty is the new thirty.  Fifty is the new forty.  Twenty one is the new eighteen.  In fact, my hormones are skyrocketing to adolescent levels even as I type.

It’s the new math.  And Lord knows, I’ve never been much good at math. Funny.  I’m not much good at getting younger as I age, either.

This  new math is everywhere.  It also applies to clothing: What used to be called a size ten is now called a size eight. (Though at Old Navy, they call it a size six.  God bless vanity sizing.) In this economy, it also applies to shopping: what used to cost $30 now is a 50%-off fifteen bucks.

Everything that can have a numerical value associated with it seems to have gone down.  Except, of course, the size a woman is “supposed to be.”

Seems to me that the only value moving backwards the “optimum” size for a woman, as portrayed by TV, magazines, movies, and runway shows.  Because according to them, size six is the new size twelve. In other words:if you’re wearing a size six, you’re big.  Excuse me?  I mean, I’m pretty pleased when I’m in my vanity size 8’s, thank you very much.

Maybe it does make sense. After all, if we’re all getting younger, shouldn’t we all be getting thinner too? Shouldn’t we all be careening towards pre-pubescent hips, flawless skin, and the ability to be out in the freezing cold without a jacket? I don’t know about you, but I’m not “youngening.”  I’ve said it before and I”ll say it again: if forty really is the new thirty, somebody forgot to tell my thighs. And my knees, and my eyesight. I’m not getting thinner and tauter any more than I’m getting younger and more interested in The Jonas Brothers.   My brain may say thirty, but my ovaries say “I don’t think so.”

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Weight Watchers Weigh In Update #2

OK, OK, so I’ve been on the diet for four weeks and this is only the second time I’ve updated.

I’ll give you the scoop:

Week One: Followed the points TO THE LETTER (number?) No cheats.  No counting the exercise points.

Down 1.4

Week Two: Same as week one.  Only used a few of my discretionary points

No loss/No gain

Week Three: Total disregard for the entire thing

Down 1

Week Four: Paid attention: sort of.   Went out to one big restaurant (read: buttery) meal. Never wrote down anything

Down 1

SO – it doesn’t seem to matter what I do.  If I follow the diet, I lose a pound.  If I don’t, I lose a pound. Maybe it’s kinda like wearing exercise clothes all day:  you might not have made it to the gym, but don’t you still get credit for looking like you did?

I don’t get it.  But I don’t care: Down 3.4 in four weeks.  Not exactly stellar, but I’ll take it.

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Weight Watchers Weigh In Update #1

Weight Watchers.

The two most terrifying words in the English language.  (Though I suppose that “Compassionate Conservative” and “Hairy Back” might be contenders.)

And yet here I am, once again, doing the WW.  Counting the points, weighing the portions,trying to decide if a deck of cards (the proper size of a serving a meat) is the same size as the giant hunk of leg-o-lamb I’ve just plunked on my plate. (that would be NO.)

Full disclosure:  a publicist from WW gave me three months of Weight Watchers for free.  I figured that if I can’t follow the program and lose the weight when I don’t even have to pay for it….Well, then I might as well  just accept that “trying on bathing suits” will forever remain the four scariest words in the English language.

Today was my second weigh-in.  Week two.  Week one, I lost 1.4 pounds.  Not bad.  Not great, but not bad.  So week two, I decided to be extra careful: I weighed everything.  I wrote everything down.  And you know what?  I stayed the same.  EXACTLY the same.

It’s better than a gain, I know.  But still.  And this was a week where I skied, worked out with a trainer, took yoga, took a dance class, took a ballroom dancing lesson AND dieted. What else am I supposed to do?  Cut off my left arm from the elbow down and use it to beat the pounds off of me?

It was also a week where I went out to breakfast with a friend.  Here’s what I had: one poached egg (2 points) and one piece of dry whole wheat toast (2 points).  Here’s what she had: a three egg (one yolk only) mozzarella and tomato omelette , french fries, and two pieces of whole wheat toast slattered in butter.

Now, here’s what she looks like: five foot four, one hundred and ten pounds, size four or six.

And here’s what I look like: five foot seven, NOWHERE NEAR one hundred and ten, or even one hundred and twenty, and lets face it, it’s been 20 years since I’ve seen 130 pounds.  Size eight or ten.

Sometimes, life just isn’t fair, is it?

Straight after my weigh-in, I went to Loehmann’s to  – TRY ON BATHING SUITS.  I figured, hey, I’m already depressed about my body, why not go all out and make myself downright dismal???

I had already been to the world famous Town Shop last week, trying on Karla Coletto suits, and that hadn’t gone well.  I have sung the praises of her bathing suits before, but this time around.  Well, let’s just say it didn’t go as well.  The bathing suits are still beautiful.  Still fabulously designed.  I will admit, I look better in a Karla Coletto bathing suit than I have a right to. BUT (and it’s a big but – not to be confused with my big butt), this year, the suits were see-through.  I’m pretty sure it wasn’t intentional – but they were showing a whole lot more than I feel comfortable showing.  (Or that you’d feel comfortable seeing, believe me.) For $200 and up, I expect a fabric that at least doesn’t show my (theoretical) tan lines through my suit. Or, let’s be frank, the depth of my bikini wax. So no Karla Coletto for me this year.  I’m looking on the bright side: this way, I won’t be tempted to spend $200 plus on a bathing suit!

ANYWAY – so there I was in Loehmann’s, and  as I entered the (communal) dressing room, I see my naturally (and preternaturally) thin friend, J.  (And as you read, remember, she’s a FRIEND) She takes one look at my armful of bathing suits (size 8’s, I might add – it’s not like I was kidding myself) and says “Are you going to fit into those?”

Youch.

I suppose the proper response would have been: “Are you going incredibly mean, incredibly unfeeling, or just a bitch?”  Or maybe “Are you going to go through puberty ever?  And get breasts?”  But no, all I said was:  “Well, I’m on Weight Watchers.”

All I can say is, it better work.

So check in every Wednesday for a Weight Watchers update. I let you know if I’m up or down, and I’ll tell you what’s working and what’s not.  Hey, maybe it’ll keep me honest, and finally, finally, get me to lose those ten pounds I’ve been struggling with for the past twenty years!

If you have any great Weight Watchers knowledge to impart – well, let me know.  Evidently, I need all the help I can get.

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