 131, Football, & Anne Lamott |
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I was riding down in the elevator Friday afternoon with two older black ladies, one of whom turned to the other and said, "I told Eliza, girl, you've got quite a figure!" "Mmm hmm!" the other one responded. "Look at those pants! We wore those kind of pants when we were younger! Girl, you have lost so much weight!" "Oh, I'm putting it back on," I sighed. "Mmm hmmm," the other one said. "She's putting it back on, and I am so glad to see that!" It was weird. I now weigh 131 if anyone's keeping track. I'm not sure how I've packed on 12 pounds in three months, but I have. Wait, no, I do know. I've been eating like it's my last day on earth. I've been doing the grazing out of boredom eating, and it's just not good for a person, because I'm shoving food into my mouth when I am completely not hungry simply for lack of anything better to do. I do think my appetite has increased a lot since I've been walking/running and doing yoga regularly, but I'm definitely eating way past the satiation point. So I signed up for WW online today because I need some kind of a mechanism to keep track of what I eat, otherwise I throw common sense out of the window and eat butterscotch chips for dinner. When I have to write it down (so to speak), I look at the computer screen and think, "Butterscotch chips do not a healthy dinner make." I think of Fred's book and how he smartly and simply asks himself if what he is thinking of eating will help his body or harm his body. And just taking that moment to think about it makes it a lot easier to not eat shitty, shitty things, or healthy things in shittily huge quantities, which basically makes them shitty. So I signed up, and I don't understand Flex Points at all, and I don't understand why my point target for the day is now 24 when it used to be 18-23, but I'm basically just using the site for the daily food journal and that's that. I only signed up for a month and hopefully by utilizing it I can help myself gain some structure and control back with my eating habits. The game. Was a BLAST. My butterscotch brownies were a hit as usual, and we gathered at Eva's dad's building and just relaxed and tailgated. It's so weird how tailgating now involves preventing babies from climbing into ice chests and crawling into the street by the same parents who once threw drinks full of hard liquor at each other during drunken pre-game arguments. My uncle, in his purple bandana and yellow sunglasses, made friends with everyone after eating several of their hamburgers and insisted that he return to their spot for the next game. But it's my mother who has turned into a tailgating monster. We walked around before the game, stopping to talk to several people she knew, and once we got up to our seats, the excitement continued. At one point, she turned to me and said about my dad, "He's wonderful! Isn't he SO WONDERFUL?" And she ate a hamburger and let her peanut shells fall completely all over her lap and we shared a frozen lemonade and jumped around and screamed ourselves hoarse. And at one point I said, "Mom, do you realize more than 92,000 people are gathered here today in the blazing heat to watch some guys chase a ball around and smash all over each other?" Pausing, she replied, "You really can't stop and think about it. Woo!" And then she jumped up and high-fived the third grade boy next to her. I got into it in spite of myself. Of course my uncle had to share the story of how I would bring books to the games when I was younger and never even look up at the action. He loves this story. Anyway, after the game we met my dad in some fancy pants room where there was so much food I almost plotzed and where I proceeded to sample four kinds of dessert by taking one bite of each and then throwing the rest away. It was all leftover from half time so it was being thrown out anyway, so I didn't feel guilty about it. I was like, "What do you have to do to come in here during the game??" My mom said, "Be rich!" I mean, you can just go to the bar in this room and order actual cocktails! For free! It was crazy. We walked down into the stadium parking lot that was still packed with revelers and I had a beer with my sister's friend and my parents saw some old friends of theirs from Thibodaux and overall, it was one goddamn festive day. I like to think that the mums I planted in my window boxes brought us all luck. 
On Sunday, I got up early and headed to Super Walmart for groceries. I ran into my mother. I convinced her to buy me some Crest whitening strips. (Note to self: Splint is clearly making lower teeth / gums / nerves extra sensitive right now. Do not apply whitening agents of any kind unless you want to experience a shooting, agonizing pain through said nerves.) I went home, did laundry, ate a Smart Ones macaroni and cheese for lunch and a low fat corn dog for dessert, and passed out on the couch for several hours after reading Long Live the Queen. All of us (dogs, cats, self) really enjoy naps during the rain. Sooner or later, it was Emmy time, and I groaned as Doris Roberts beat Cynthia Nixon, Tyne Daly beat Lena Olin, and Brad Garrett beat Peter Boyle, whom I frankly wanted to win because he is the only one who hasn't on his show, and I hate that (which is why I was glad that Debra Messing finally one even though she is shrill and much, much too thin). I was so blahed by these repeat winners, I went to my computer and chatted with Maryelizabeth for a few minutes. The only saving grace of the entire evening was when The Amazing Race won. Other than that, I was so, so bored.
I saw Anne Lamott on CNN Booknotes yesterday and found myself wiping tears from my face practically the entire time. She said that when a person lives long enough, she experiences the end of the world several times over. And she asks, "How do you survive the end of the world?" And Anne asked a Jesuit friend what the answer to that question is, and he replied, "Right foot, left foot, right foot, breathe. Left foot, right foot, left foot, breathe." Anne Lamott read a few sections of Blue Shoe, and I cursed myself for not reading this already. And she read part of Bird by Bird, the part about how her students were wondering how they can know that their writing matters, and about lighthouses and waves and storms. And I cried some more. And I just kept thinking over and over and over, "I love her, I love her, I love her." Amy Lester wrote an entry once about meeting Anne Lamott that I have always remembered. Especially the last part, when Amy told her that she loved her and Anne Lamott understood. And Amy wrote, "She understands a lot." AND SHE REALLY DOES. 
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© Copyright 2003 elb |
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