If the Olympics had an eating event, I'd have a medal

I’m wondering:

Is there a connection between my junk-food addiction …

By CarbonNYC via Creative Commons

and the fact that not one pair of pants in my closet fits properly? Is my muffin top a result of excessive muffin consumption?

By Yukari* via Creative Commons

This lack of pants, it’s bothering me. So, I jumped on board with the Catholics yesterday and declared my digestive system a No Cakes, Cookies, Pies, Doughnuts, Candy or Scones Zone. It had to be done.

Did I mention none of my jeans fit?

Did I mention that I go to the gym regularly and work my butt off? I do 30 minutes of cardio, 30 to 45 minutes of weight training and another 30 minutes of cardio three times weekly. On alternate days I work out in my basement. So, I’m not lethargic.

Yet when I  look in the mirror, my butt is still attached and spreading to all points on the compass. I see cellulite everywhere. Everywhere, people. I feel the muscle tone buried deep under a layer of fat. I see the body of a middle-aged woman. I might even be willing to accept it in a I’m-the-best-I-can-be-for-a-45-year-old kind of way. Except I have the great good fortune of having friends who can eat like it’s an Olympic event and not gain an ounce. None of them has any body fat. I’ve never seen them bloated. Desserts, bacon, extra dollops of cream on their pie and still, flat bellies and thin thighs. They’ve had babies and can still look smoking hot in a bikini. They just have good genes.

No. I’m not fat. But I am overweight. I’m sure my BMI is higher than it should be. Essentially I was born a skinny girl with no appetite and remained reasonably thin until I turned 40. Then nature played a cruel trick on me: It gave me a ravenous appetite while slowing my metabolism to a drip. I’ve tried all sorts of things: special diets, pills, loading up on caffeine. While these things worked temporarily, they all had one thing in common: Little to no eating. Sure my jeans fit again, but I felt miserably hungry.

It’s hard to eat well in a  world filled with bakeries and cupcake parties and cookie fund-raiser sales.

Yesterday, on Day One, my mother handed me a box of freshly baked cinnamon rolls from her bakery. I left them in the car all day and force-fed them to my family so I wouldn’t be tempted.

Last night at the gym, I nearly ran out to the nearest Tim Horton’s drive-through when I heard “Double McTwist  1260” for the third time while watching the Olympics on TV.  In my mind I was holding a fresh-from-the-oven doughy pretzel doubled dipped in chocolate and drizzled with caramel and 1,260 calories per bite. I could smell the cinnamon,  taste the gooey chocolate-caramel mix, feel it drip down my chin.

It was all I could do to keep my focus. I drank so much water I could hear my stomach sloshing as I walked to the car.

Day Two with 44 more to go.

God help me.

9 thoughts on “If the Olympics had an eating event, I'd have a medal

  1. Oh I so relate to this post! And as soon as I give something up it is ALL I can think about. Good luck for the next 44 days. Once you get through the weekend, you’ll be home free. And yes, the cupcake parties and the cookie fund-raisers are killing me too!

  2. Nature is indeed cruel. I basically have the same set-up as you do. Eat whatever I want, stay thin, turn forty, blob out.

    And exercise doesn’t do a damn thing. And I LIKE to exercise.

    I can see cutting out everything but the donuts. You have to live, after all.

  3. OMG – I am going through this exact same thing. It’s so depressing yet I can’t stop eating. Last night I was so full of Thai food I couldn’t even sleep. This morning: two (not one, but two) breakfasts. Ugh. I’ve been putting on my jammie bottoms earlier and earlier every night. In fact, some days I don’t even take them off. Today could be one of those days.

  4. small town: I laughed about the jammie bottoms until I looked down and realized I’d left mine on today.
    JD: I’d be 90 pounds if I were dong all this exercise at 25.
    MamaMary: I have two Girl Scout cookie orders heading my way this week.
    TeacherMommy and Brenda: Metabolisms suck!

  5. Pingback: Beautiful, tiny, gone | Mom Zombie

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