Diet Duel-Mindedness

This feels familiar. It’s a mixture of salacious satisfaction and impending doom. 

Oh. I know why. I just ate homemade macaroni-and-cheese for lunch. A whole bunch of it. 

Let the perplexity begin. I’m finding myself in a very strange place these days. It must be because I’ve entered the adult world, because, until now, I’ve never experienced anything quite like it. Or maybe it’s because my metabolism is beginning to fail me as I grow into the ripe old age of 23. Scary. My co-workers are doing it. My friends are doing it. My parents are even doing it! They’re all losing weight (or at least trying to. Some are more successful than others.). Regardless, I don’t think I’ve decided how I should be reacting. 

Some days I find myself being their cheerleaders. (“Way to go! Give those 5 pounds a shot to the groin Kung-Fu Panda-style!”) 

Other days I find myself feeling guilty. (“Yes. We ALL know that you’re dieting. Congratu-freakin-lations. Thanks for reminding me that I’m NOT dieting and that I’m pretty sure I’ve gained at least 10 pounds since I got married less than a year ago.”) 

Sometimes I take pride in my figure. (“I’m so proud of [insert name of starved person] for being so dedicated. Thank goodness I can still fit into that one pair of jeans that I wore in high school, which obviously means that I haven’t gained enough weight to have to care...yet.)

At other times, I find myself possessed by a Dove marketing agent. (“Why does she think she needs to lose weight? Be proud of your curves, girl!)

In the support of full disclosure, this schizophrenic reasoning probably has a lot to do with the fact that I split the majority of my TV time between Dancing With the Stars, Ugly Betty, Project Runway, and Drop Dead Diva.

What’s the reality? A lot of people are living unhealthy lives (myself included). Too much Zaxby’s, and not enough Zumba. So, sure, eating better and exercising is great! I really AM all about that. But it’s also a reality that we have a skewed perception of beauty. How many times have you heard now that the average woman in America wears a size 14? If you’re a woman, probably a lot. If you’re a man, eh…maybe never. 

So here are the solutions I’ve come up with for myself:

1. Just be supportive. (Encourage both the “own it” friend and the “hard core weight loss girl” because they both deserve it.)

2. Get a scale. 

3. Don’t diet. Adjust.

We’ve probably all seen both extremes of this scale. I’ve watched crash dieters lose 20 pounds in a month and gain it back in two weeks. And I’ve seen people make a drastic change and stick with it. For example, both of my parents have lost at least 175 pounds combined, and they have kept it off for a while now. They have completely changed their lifestyles, and it has really made a difference in their health, their well-being, and their happiness. If I decide that I want to lose weight and to live a healthier life, then I’m going to do it their way. By making changes that I can see myself living with forever (whole wheat bread, instead of white. Skim milk, instead of 2% milk. More fruits and vegetables, less carbohydrates. Yadda, yadda, yadda). Because, let’s face it. I love cake WAY too much to give it up forever.

Best Friends!

Before this weekend, I hadn’t seen my very best friends in 6 months. I’m pretty sure that’s like 8 million years in “best friend” time.  I really don’t recommend it.

Let me tell you a cool story about a couple of the coolest girls on the planet.

The first day of kindergarten. I walked into Mrs. Fox’s classroom holding my crying mother’s hand. (I don’t actually remember her crying, but I’m pretty positive that she was. She has a tendency to do that in situations like these. Must be genetic. Thanks a lot mom.) I sat in a chair at a table that was just my size, and across the table was a little girl with long brown hair and brown eyes who was just my size, too. The legend goes that she asked me if I wanted to be friends, and, thankfully, I said yes. You might attribute this quickly formed friendship to some sort of defense mechanism. Two are stronger than one, and in the scary world of kindergarten, it’s always safer to have a partner in crime. But I have absolutely no doubt that this cosmic consult was none other than fate himself.

Sadly, I lived in the middle of nowhere, which just happened to be right next door to Greenwood Elementary School. Total school population from 1^st–6^th grade was probably 100 tops. No kidding. Rachel lived much closer to town, so she went to Widmeyer Elementary School (total school population: a heck of a lot more than 100). Rachel and I met up fairly regularly. We had sleep overs (I once peed the bed at her house. That was embarrassing.) But we drifted apart a bit through the years because we were kids, and we didn’t really have total control of our own lives yet. 

We met back up in 6^th grade when I entered the world of middle school. There was only one middle school for our county, so my 4 or 5 Greenwood Elementary 5^th grade graduating-classmates and I had to brave a gigantic crowd of strangers. My very first day at lunch, guess who I spotted. Rachel. That was the day I met her friend Emily Walters, along with some other really awesome girls who I also happen to still be friends with today.  

We three remained friends throughout our middle school years (although we had our bumps along the way) and into high school. We took classes together, joined clubs, played sports, watched football games, yadda yadda yadda. It was bliss. When it came time to choose a college, we all decided to go to Marshall University together. My freshman year, I roomed with Emily; and my sophomore year, I roomed with Rachel. Our junior and senior years, we moved into an apartment together. We were inseparable.

Emily and Rachel were co-maids of honor in my wedding last year, after which I moved to Burlington, North Carolina with my new husband; Rachel moved to Marietta, Ohio to attend physician’s assistant school; and Emily stayed in Huntington, West Virginia to complete her teaching degree. It’s almost been a year now that we’ve been separated. We call, text, and Facebook (yes, I just used Facebook as a verb) to stay in touch, but we rarely get the chance to see each other. Yet, when we do, it’s as if nothing had ever changed. It’s as if we were together all the time.

This weekend, the stars aligned. All three of us were going to be in Huntington, and it just so happened to be Emily’s birthday. We hung out all day Friday and had an old-school slumber party that evening. We went shopping together, we went out to dinner, we chatted and laughed, and we all three slept cozily on Emily’s double bed. 

It’s got to be God that we became friends in the first place, and it’s got to be God that we’re still friends now. I am so thankful for good, Godly, fun, inspiring, supportive friends. Here’s a big shout out to my besties, Rachel (Rachie) and Emily (Em). I love you guys more than you know! And I can’t wait to see you again (hopefully soon)!