Archive for January 3rd, 2010
I’m a creative mind. And as such, I have an infinitely difficult time making decisions. Of all kinds.
Coffee, tea?
Sugar, Splenda?
Blow dry, air dry?
Clean undies…ok, I never travel that route, much to my mother’s relief. Because you never know when that often-talked-about car will come out of nowhere and hit you…
It should be no wonder I can’t decide what form I want my WLR (weight loss resolutions) to take. Do I want to lose pounds? Inches? Sizes? Spare tires? (I do think the Michelin Man and I have far too much in common). Better eating? More exercise?
My god, it’s truly overwhelming to decide what I want. Even if I could make up my mind I wouldn’t know what I wanted.
Yesterday, I slummed around and thought about this goal. I’ve actually had a couple of ideas bouncing around on the brain cave walls, along with those cute monkeys playing the cymbals, for a few months on things I’d like to do:
1. Give up french fries and real pop (soda to you New Yorkers)
2. Work out 30 minutes a day, 5 times a week
3. Walk the dog 20 minutes per day
4. 10 minutes of yoga and/or meditation per day.
These sound like huge time-suckers, but what’s nifty in my life is that, for the most part, I have the time to do them.
I just don’t. Obviously I don’t or my ass wouldn’t be approaching a size where every cartographer I meet on the street does a double-take. I really have no one to blame but myself on this one. My lazy-ass self. Do you hear that, self?
I like these goals. Not resolutions, because resolutions suggest forever–and who’s to say I won’t be shipwrecked sometime on a remote desert island with a spear-toting band of natives and a case of Coke? But the goals themselves lend credence to the thought that I can do something, however small, to get this body at rest into motion. And we all know that bodies in motion tend to stay in motion (or, at least you should if you’re married to Mr. Science like me).
Now, to get to a section of this post relevant to the title…
These goal-utions (my word, goals + resolutions) have not been on paper (or, if you’re getting technical, pixels) until this very post. But, me in my big-mouth state, has been lamenting my fatness for some time. I make all kinds of mouth-promises I never keep: exercise, eat right, develop a stronger Spanx, etc.) One that I’ve said for a while is that I’m giving up fries.
I don’t even like fries. Ok, that’s a little lie: there are a few (two and a half) places who serve fries that I like. One is the little corner bar at the end of my street. They’re exactly like fair fries, not complete without salt and vinegar. Always piping hot and palate-blistering. Love ‘em. The second is Roosters, where the fries (not all that great) come slathered in cheese and bacon (all that great). I suppose I don’t even like the fries–I could technically get a dish of the jalapeno cheese sauce covered in bacon and keep to my goalution. And yes, there’s a .5 place where I like fries–like all red-blooded Americans, I love McDonald’s fries–but ONLY when palate-blistering hot. And getting them that way is a literal crap shoot. More often than not I eat a few and save the rest for the dogger. She loves her some fries!
I can give up McD’s no problemo. I don’t eat there but once a month at most. Roosters…pretty easy. I actually like their salad. Those aren’t words you hear every day. Or ever. I just feel nice today. But Memories’ fries are better than anything on the menu except the reuben. I could just eat a basket of those and no food. I’m going to have a hard time giving those up–not that we eat there a lot, either. (I can’t help it if the waitresses–and owner–know what we want without asking. They must have good memories or something…)
So, while I hadn’t written down these goal-utions, I’ve still blabbed enough about a few of them that even stoneheads like Mr. Science take notice. I’ve stopped ordering fries at Roosters, instead choosing to pilfer a few from the kid. So when we went to Memories last night with the in-laws, I wasn’t paying attention to myself or my goal-utions. I ordered a burger straight up and, without hesitation, the fries. After all–it wasn’t in writing anywhere. I didn’t technically screw up my goalutions if I didn’t actually set them, did I?
About ten minutes into our wait, Mr. Science turns to chat me up. “What did you order?”, he asks.
“Blue Cheese burger and fries.”
His gaze turns slightly thoughtful, slightly smug. “I thought you were giving those up for the new year,” he informs the table. Nothing says “I love you” while attempting to prove you wrong in front of parents.
“Oh, I thought about it,” I recovered. “I’m not starting officially til Monday.” I feel the need to slap the sneer off his face. “Besides, if I didn’t write it down yet, it’s not an official resolution. I’ll do it tomorrow.”
Well, since today is tomorrow, and I’ve put it down in writing, I guess I’m giving up fries forever and ever. and ever. I just hope when my plane crashes, it’s nowhere near Idaho. And Mr. Science isn’t around to rub it in.