Monday, May 4, 2015

Reality Check #5342

Worried about flabby arms, double chins, stomach rolls and giant boobs.
Photo courtesy of Casey Chapman Ross Photography
The title of this post refers to the number of posts I've titled "Reality Check" and then never actually finished. It's referred to all different sorts of reality checks like going back to work after a vacation, realizing my daughter knows how to spell z-o-o and p-a-r-k, finding out my favorite band broke up and an all-too-humbling trip to the doctor.
But let me back up.
Listen To Your Mother was one of the greatest experiences of my life. I'm sure I sound like a broken record but to have been included with all of these amazing and talented writers was beyond a dream-come-true. I enjoyed bonding with my castmates before the shows and mingling with them afterwards. The second show was such a whirlwind with the amount of "my people" who showed up that I barely got to meet "their people," which I regret. I came to think of us as a sisterhood and I wanted to meet their families. I think we should have a reunion of sorts.
But the reality check came as I walked to the podium to share my story: my doctor was in the audience. It's extremely jarring for me to see an authority figure out of context, like when my 5th grade teacher came into the restaurant where I worked in high school. Since I whine to my doctor a lot about weight loss and depression, I felt odd sharing a humorous story about wanting an only child. It was even odder because I had an appointment scheduled with her four days after the show. Knowing she was in the audience led me to believe that she was judging my every motion. Breathe too deeply, and she'll think I have some sort of pulmonary disorder. Cough and she'll think I started smoking again. Exhale my gut and she'll see right through my Spanx.
After our performance and we took our bows, I looked around the post-show reception to see if she was there. I was relieved that she wasn't. So I continued to bask in the warm glow of validation that I so desperately craved after being on-stage. I was great! Buy me wine!
Flash forward those four days. The doc kept me waiting for over an hour. But she was super-apologetic about it. And when I asked her if she was at the show, she beamed and said that she goes to it every year and really enjoyed my story. We settled into comfortable chit-chat about how i've been doing. I started going to a therapist again which is great for everyone around me. I mentioned my breast cancer scare and my mom recently having a stroke. Then came the subject I was dreading but knew was important: weight loss.
I want to love how I look and embrace my body no matter what it looks like. For the most part, that's easy...except for the days when my pants are cutting into my c-section scar and I feel like a sausage at the end of the day. I've bought bigger clothes and avoided the nagging feeling that I need to get my wedding ring sized up. I haven't worn my watch since we moved to Austin because it just doesn't fit. But I convince myself that I look good and I'm happy and healthy. I'm boosted by women like Amy Schumer, Elizabeth Moss and Abbi Jacobson – they look like normal women! But the reality is I'm not as healthy as I should be. For someone with a family history that reads like A Series of Unfortunate Illnesses, I need to get my shit together. Doc suggested I kickstart weight loss with a diet program and then try the Mediterranean diet to maintain that loss. Here's the thing: I'm lazy. I have no willpower. I've TRIED to do the self-appointing diet plans like Weight Watchers and I'm notorious for cheating.  I like to drink. I like queso. I like the guac that costs extra at Chipotle. But I decided that I'd rather live long enough to see my daughter graduate from beauty school than keep eating like crap.
When it came time to do research and choose a weight loss plan, I leaned towards the cheapest one, Nutri-System. But when I saw what the photos of the food looked like, I backtracked. They looked like the worst school cafeteria food combined with the leftovers at Luby's on a Tuesday night.
Jenny Craig has better food reviews so I signed up, ordered 2 weeks worth of meals and now...I wait. It's hard to be spontaneous about eating when there's shipping involved.
I don't want this to be a weight loss "journey." This is just me being accountable for all the damage I've done to my body with burgers and pizza. And I know there are better, "healthier" ways to go about this but again let me reiterate: I am lazy. I don't cook. And I can't afford to shop at Whole Foods for every meal and then cook said meal.
Also, this isn't a cry for compliments. You can say I look great and I will be forever in your debt for that! But know that this is more for my insides than my appearance.
So please don't judge me for Jenny Craig.
And let's keep the Kirstie Alley references to a minimum...I'm more of a Valerie Bertinelli girl anyway.
Stay tuned for bikini pics! *Totally Kidding*