The Cost Per Pound

Lately I’ve been trying to lose the 10lbs that I’ve been trying to lose (sort of....) for 3 years. This time I’m seriously trying to lose them. I just ate 2 carrots and pretended that they were delicious. While watching The Wire I considered the calorie content of crack cocaine. I am on my own personal running tour of Prospect Park. My dieting mojo is back! I’m even joking about writing a diet book, selling it to a publisher and getting rich. To that end I’ve decided to write up a few of my unique diet tips! If you’re looking to lose a few pounds and you have a lot of internalized guilt about actually doing the things you tell yourself that you’re going to do please feel free to take my advice. If you’re a book publisher with an advance check signed and ready to go please, call me. If you’re a skinny girl with no need for diet tips, have a red velvet cupcake for lunch in honor of all of us who must eat spinach salad.

How much would you pay to lose weight? Think about this number in as many ways as possible. How much per month? How much per day? How much per pound? It probably won’t cost that much (“Listen here little lady, I can get you a good deal on some weight loss!”)... but it will cost something.

I just bought an $11 salad on my way to the office. $11 for a salad is borderline ridiculous (Thank you Dean and Deluca). I could have put together the same collection of greens and goat cheese and tomatoes for under $5. But I didn’t. Instead, I dragged myself home from a business meeting last night and collapsed into bed with my migraine and a cold compress. I got up earlier than I’d like (but later than almost every other working schlub I know so I’ll shut up about my 7:30am alarm) and headed off to another business meeting over breakfast where I certainly could have mentally justified bacon and eggs but somehow managed to order the oatmeal.

That $11 salad is the cost of my diet today. I could have had a $3 hamburger or a $7 pint of udon. But I am not paying $11 for mesclun and vinaigrette but for the knowledge that its sitting in my work refrigerator and that it probably only has 300-400 calories which is certainly all I can afford on a day with no time for a run. $11 is a steal.

This same philosophy applies to snacks.

At 3pm everyday I want a treat. Usually, I have done very little to deserve a treat. Usually, I ate lunch a mere 2 hours ago. Usually, I am sitting at my desk opening and closing the top drawer in hopes that the chocolate fairy paid me a visit over night. Thankfully he has not. I long ago learned that 3pm discussions between my mind and my belly, (“You’re not even hungry! Shut up!” “FEEEEEEEED ME! ME WANT COOKIES.”) are wholly nonproductive and that 3pm treats are a necessity -- some food stuff must pass my lips and this food stuff better feel special.

Normally, I refuse to pay $3 for 10 ounces of coconut water. Normally, I only allow myself one Starbucks visit a week. Normally, I try to conquer 3pm with a piece of fruit brought from home. But The Dieting 3pm won’t stand for this cheap-ass regimented shit. The Dieting 3pm has barely recovered from giving up the top slice of bread on her tuna fish sandwich. She’s already planning on ordering vodka and soda water at tonight’s happy hour even though the weather is just right for a margarita.

Sometimes my 3pm treat is a walk to the corner store followed by 10mins of reading the ingredients on food labels only to settle on a yogurt that I could have just brought from home. Sometimes its a whole container of raspberries even though they cost $6. Sometimes its 2 chocolate truffles from the little shop that looks like it fell right out of France (which would at least sort of explain how they justify $3 per chocolate). All of the choices would normally have me rolling my eyes over the cost but not today

In my effort to lose weight something has to give. Because I am a lucky, lucky person who, thank god, has enough extra money lying around to make the choice to spend cash in exchange for losing weight I do just that. I let myself spend in exchange for not letting myself eat. Usually it works.

Be the Bitch. The Skinny Bitch.

Lately I’ve been trying to lose the 10lbs that I’ve been trying to lose (sort of....) for 3 years. This time I’m seriously trying to lose them. I downloaded an iPhone app to record my food intake (Lose It!). I have gotten a little OCD about the number of calories in grapes. I have started to feel a little give in the waist of my sexy jeans. My dieting mojo is back! I’m even joking about writing a diet book, selling it to a publisher and getting rich. To that end I’ve decided to write up a few of my unique diet tips! If you’re looking to lose a few pounds and you’re brain is broken in the same way as mine please feel free to take my advice. If you’re a book publisher with an advance check signed and ready to go please, call me. If you’re a skinny girl with no need for diet tips, fuck you.

Be the Bitch. The Skinny Bitch.

I’m normally an advocate for humbleness and benefit of the doubt. A fan of putting myself in someone else’s shoes. An annoying devil’s advocate. But when it comes to dieting I embrace my sanctimonious, self-righteous, inner mean girl. Sometimes it’s the only way to keep cookies from my lips (and subsequently,as the cliche goes, my hips).

Next time you want to gobble up a Big Mac/pint of coffee ice cream/stick of butter look around and find yourself a fat person (I last did this in the Detroit airport where it is shockingly easy). Now, start being a horrible person in your head. Think about how much that person must eat. How much they must weigh. How many pieces of fried chicken it must take to get that big. Think about their lack of will power. Think about the heart attack they will have at 45. Think about how hard it must be to find size 22 jeans in anything other than acid wash (with pleats, natch).

Your nice-girl reflexes may buckle at this torrid stream of meanness but you must punch that nice girl in her chunky stomach, and while she’s on the floor trying to catch her breath, persevere in your quest to (secretly, just in your head) be a total bitch.

Think about how much better you are than old Fatty Flab over there. How many times you take apple slices over cake slices. How many times you forgo butter on your toast. How often you sit hungry at your desk at 3pm wishing and hoping that a Take 5 bar might land in your lap but resisting the walk to the corner store. Your willpower is amazing! On vacation in Europe no one can use the size of your ass to guess your nationality. You are thin. You are powerful. You will have a green salad and a side of a nice broth-based soup for lunch, thank you very much.

There will be plenty of time later to feel guilty. To remind yourself that you are no better than most other people. That life isn’t fair and that some folks have really good reasons for saying,“fuck it” to healthy choices (because sometimes a cookie is the only comfort we have). There will be plenty of time to reform yourself for entertaining selfish thoughts, to remember that this was all an exercise in fiction to meet the goal of being 10lbs lighter. For today, be the bitch.

On Being a Very Good Eater

My attempt to lose the 10lbs that I somehow managed to gain over the summer is not going so well. Oh sure I'm eating salads and going to the gym where I have been doing some RUNNING (Seriously. I have been running. Who am I?) but I'm not actually losing any weight. This is probably due to my love for food.

You see, I love food a lot. Often I'll find myself eating some food and excitedly thinking about the food I might eat next. It'll be lunch. I'll be munching on a nice crunchy salad with artichoke hearts and boiled egg and blue cheese and thinking to myself, "hmm what shall I eat for dinner? I could make spaghetti! Or order Thai basil chicken! Man tomorrow morning I get to have that yummy yogurt again, with the dried apricots, I CAN'T WAIT!" This cannot be healthy, right? Surely I must have some sort of hole in my heart that I'm trying to fill with food but when I try to recall being abused by the elementary cafeteria lady I quickly get distracted by thoughts of sloppy joes and chocolate malts. I think the hole I'm filling might just be my bottomless stomach.

I recently observed that having few buddies at my new jobs means I'm much more likely to eat a healthy lunch to which my friend Lisa replied, "Good Point. If you [worked here] we'd be all 'hamburgers!' every day." This is not true, sometimes I would want mac and cheese and some other times I would want Chinese pork buns, and least you think I only want to eat food bathed in grease sometimes I would just want roasted broccoli covered in lots of red pepper flakes. Part of my problem with food is that I love healthy foods which seems like a good thing until you're eating a trough of it and gaining 5lbs JUST FROM BROCCOLI.

Sometimes I fantasize about getting really fat. Because sure, I would miss my toes and sexy underwear and living past the age of 50 but maybe all of that is a reasonable price to pay for unlimited ice cream consumption? Maybe once I got past being the woman that kids moo at in the grocery store I could cover myself in a yummy blanket of ranch dressing and dig my way out with a truck load of french fries. Perhaps TLC could do a show on me (Half Ton Blogger?), perhaps they would pay me for humiliating myself on national television not with a free gastric bypass surgery but with my own personal chef who will make me endless supplies of fresh pasta covered in spicy tomato sauce. Doesn't sound half bad, right?

This fantasy is partially fueled by my desire to succeed. I am not always successful at eating less than 5 servings of jalapeno corn bread or doing my personal trainer prescribed squats at the super slow speed that makes my thighs shake in fear. Despite past successes I am not at all sure that I can succeed at losing the 10lbs that appear to be cling wrapped to my thighs. But I know without a doubt that I could kick ass at being really fat. I would eat ridiculous quantities of grilled cheese sandwiches. I would lounge around in a muumuu. I would be very good at sitting in a very large chair.

A Letter to My Personal Trainer

Hi! I am writing you this letter in hopes that you will find me hilarious and then you'll like me and probably not want to yell at me and/or make comments about how fat I am. This also seems like a good opportunity to warn you about my personal workout quirks. Firstly, you should not take the fact that I joined the Gym and just threw out the term "workout" all casual-like as an indication that I'm a Gym Person. I don't much enjoy feeling the burn or paying for gain with pain or running. I have also noticed that working out has a horrible return on investment. For example on Friday I did 30 minutes on the elliptical machine and apparently only burned 235 calories. Do you have any idea how many pieces of pumpkin pie I could eat in 30 minutes?

When you called last week to confirm our appointment I was glad that you were a dude. I had this fear that you'd be a girl exactly my height who weighed 50lbs less then me and who would say things like, "See my thighs? Yours are a lot bigger." I am still hoping that you are gay so that you can occasionally compliment my ass in a totally nonthreatening sort of way.

I am super not interested in being weighed at the gym. I lost 40lbs a few years ago and since then regularly weigh myself at home but I fear using a new scale which could show me as heavier and that could cause me to have a break down here in the gym. I would probably cry and that would probably be embarrassing for both of us so let's just stay away from the scale. I lost my weight through a diet I invented called "I Have a Very Acute Sense of Personal Guilt." Basically I wrote down everything I ate and felt so badly about eating fattening things that I eventually learned to avoid them. I never increased my exercise though I am naturally a "if it's only 3 subways stops away you might as well walk" kind of girl.

Despite all of my stated fears that you will make moo-ing noises at me while I stumble my way through a step routine I don't really think I'm fat. I just think that Gym People have ridiculous standards. Most of my fear of fat stems from the fact that I gained about 10lbs this summer and am having a tortuous time trying to lose it. This has lead to daily hallucinations in which I wake up one morning suddenly so fat that I can't actually fit through the door of my bedroom. On the bright side I don't usually keep food in my bedroom so this could turn into the most effective diet regime ever.

The main problem I have is that I really like food. Have you noticed how delicious it is? Here is a brief list of a few things that I very much wish I was eating right now: salt and vinegar potato chips, won ton soup, Greek yogurt with honey and almonds, pasta with really spicy sausage and broccoli, heirloom tomato salad with fresh mozzarella, Ben and Jerry's coffee coffee buzz buzz ice cream, left over thanksgiving stuffing, blue cheese with the black truffle honey that they make at Otto... I could go on. You'll note that I am not eating any of those things right now which is a sign of my incredible self control. If denying yourself food burned calories I would weigh 4 lbs.

I suppose you're going to ask me what my goals are. Gym people probably answer this question with things like "get a six pack!" or "run a marathon" or "work it." Mostly I want to eat more yummy food without getting fat. I would also like to avoid getting older and having some doctor say, "you have a life threatening disease that could have been prevented by doing a few sit ups 3 years ago." I would also like to find a way to see working out as fun. I know other people speak of this mythical feeling that washes over them post workout (perhaps it's in the sweat?) but though I promise I have done plenty of sweating I have never experienced this. I suspect the whole workout high thing is like magic eye posters -- i.e. a vast conspiracy maintained by all of humanity only to make fun of me. Would I like to be stronger, or more toned, or able to leap tall building in a single bound? Of course, but I need to be realistic. I will likely only make it to the gym 3 times in a good week. I will likely only stay for 30-45 minutes. I will likely behave as if this makes me some sort of martyr/hero combo pack.

Can we work together or shall I find the nearest Korean yogurt to drown my sorrows in (only 90 calories!)?

Coming This January: Eggnog Thighs

Normally my relationship with coffee is purely social and/or directly related to a desire to avoid the managing of projects. I have even been known to claim to be immune to the caffeine lure that others speak of. But every November my heart, my brain, my tongue, my being craves some coffee -- and not just any coffee. I live very close to an adorable indie coffee shop and the only thing my office neighborhood, DUMBO, has more of than commercial shoots is indie coffee shops. All of these establishments have terrific affordably priced coffee beverages. And yet… the caffeinated beverage that calls my name is the Starbucks eggnog latte. I am so ashamed. I find myself sitting at my desk or walking down the street or lying in bed obsessively thinking about the warm frothy eggnog latte (EL) that seems to be beaconing from the nearest Starbucks. It is very difficult for me to write this post because the EL cravings are only getting worse with every word I type. It is very possible that I will have to pause mid sentence to go on a latte run. I suspect Starbucks puts actual rum in the lattes. Or LSD (mmmm LSD. Mmmm elephants.). That would explain a lot.

Allow me to go on a tangent here in an effort to stave off my EL jones. Here's a conundrum: The last two times I’ve been in Starbucks the person in front of me has ordered a no foam latte. WTF? Clearly this is a sign of the apocalypse on par with the scourge of ice milk. Foam is what separates us from the heathens who drink plain old coffee with milk. Foam is what we pay $4+ for (well, that and sugar syrup flavored to remind us of booze).

But back to the (now banned from my life) evil eggnog lattes (EEL).

In preparation for this post I did the scariest thing EVER. I looked up the calorie content of a tall SKIM eggnog latte on the Starbucks web site. The faint of heart may wish to stop reading right here because OF COURSE the news is not good because good news has never ever come from looking up food calorie counts. Keep in mind that I order the smallest size (12 oz) with SKIM milk. Keep in mind that 12oz of Skim milk has 135 calories.

350 calories!

You know what probably has less calories than that? Actual eggnog made with real eggs. You know what definitely has even fewer calories than that? 3 shots of rum.

Unconventional Dieting Tips

1. Instead of food how about 4 vodka gimlets for dinner?
2. Become a wet nurse
3. Acquire quarterly stomach flu
4. Clip fingernails super short (ever little bit helps!)
   
5. Salmonella