Monday, February 23, 2009

Pour a little sugar on me, baby

(Pre-script: This post is a continuation of the previous post, "Something to Lose." This post will flow best and make the most sense if you have already read that post. If you have not, I recommend you do that right now. It's just below this post. Go read it.
When you are done with that, and are ready to read THIS post, go down to the playlist and click on the song "Cornflake Girl," by Tori Amos, then come back and finally resume reading. I'll wait...) (...still waiting...)

After the birth of my 4th and final baby, when I was in a hazy blur of trying to lose the 80lbs I had gained with her as furiously fast as possible, I started eating Weight Loss Oatmeal for breakfast. It was basically instant oatmeal that was sweetened without sugar. I would eat my oatmeal, then I would go to the gym for a vigorous workout. I would endure said workout because I had a goal in mind, the perfectly perfect goal of one day ONE DAY!! Fitting into my size 2 jeans again; and I mean fitting into them in a way that looked good, not in a "Look at me, I am wearing these jeans that are sucking the life out of me because I can finally get the zipper up all the way, who cares if I can't breathe in them. They are on, and they are size 2, and that is the point."* So I ate weight loss oatmeal, and struggled and slogged my way through pain and misery morning after morning after gray, sad, arduous morning. Then one day, it occurred to me that the weight loss oatmeal was not created for people who were going to go and workout for 2 hours afterward. Weight loss oatmeal was meant for people who were going to eat it and then...not do anything active. DOH!
And with that realization, I felt so much better. Life became colorful again. Because really, how could I just abandon so quickly the very substance that has nurtured me throughout many trials in my lifetime, the very substance which has lulled me away from the slippery precipice of depression, which has sung gentle songs of hope, assuring me that life was indeed still worth living?? And here's a secret: there's nothing like a bit of sugar to fuel the best workout of your life. Don't believe everything that you hear, read, see. There is always another side to the story to consider.


*People who wear their jeans in this way might as well wear a sandwich board around their necks declaring the jean size in bold print.

1 comment:

sara said...

Right on!!!!! Unfortunately for me, the treadmill has not been calling my name lately :)