Monday, July 4, 2011

Here I Am…

And here I am again at the bad place. The place of pain and humiliation. The dreaded gym. I am here on this perfect holiday, this day of bar-b-que’s and firecrackers. Parades and red, white and blue bunting as far as the eye can see because I, well to put it bluntly, screwed up.

My dear friend had a bar-b-que yesterday. It was an early celebration of our nation and also a goodbye feast for her sister before she returns to North Africa. I made pasta salad, it was a request. I (apparently) make a killer pasta salad. We arrived about 3pm and the food was to be served within a short time.

So there were appetizers. Chips and dip and salsa and that whip cream fruit thing with the coconut, and fudge. Home-made fudge. No nuts because my friends hubby is allergic to nuts. Humph - who said he had to have any? I mean it kinda sacrilegious to not have walnuts in fudge you know?

And so there I was being a good girl with my three quarters of a cup of Cheerios and one half cup of skim milk under my belt. Boy howdy I was sure gonna be a good girl. No food before I got there because I knew I would have at least one small hamburger and - of course - my pasta salad, and I left room for a few small, teeny, itsy bitsy bites of fruit, or something like that. That was the dream - then reality reared its ugly head in the form of Ruffles potato chips.

I was fine. I was chatting with one of the other guests sitting at the indoor table when I just happened to look to my left and noticed there was a bag of Ruffles sitting just to the left of my hand. It was like one of those mystical things. You know, like you never see the crack in the wall until someone points it out to you and now all you can see is the stupid crack in the wall! Well that’s how it was. I was continuing to talk and smile and nod but I have no idea what was being said. I kept eyeballing that bag of chips. The really weird thing is that every time I looked at it. . . . . . It was closer to my hand. Suddenly my hand was inside the bag. I have no idea how it got there!!! I swear I didn’t move my hand and wow now there were chips in front of me on a paper plate that I have no idea where it came from and then . . . . .

I was eating chips. It started off slow. Just one small one. Then I found a folded chip. I have always heard that the folded chips have more flavor, so I scarfed that one down and pretty soon I was alone at the table. Just me and the 2lb bag-o-chips. I had no idea of time passing until I heard a burst of laughter from the back yard and found that I had chips in both hands.

I gently put the chips down, dusted my hands off, and pushed the hair away from my face (I hate to admit this but I had chip crumbles in my hair). I folded the bag and walked it into the kitchen and left it there.

On my way back to the table (people were starting to drift in again, I guess the grunting shooed them away, heh) I noticed the whip cream , coconut fruit thing. OOOOOOO!!!! Nummy!! I grabbed a plate and got a small portion (half the size of my head) and a nibble (if your really want to call it that) of my infamous pasta salad. This was all I was going to eat and because of my small indiscretion I would only eat half of a hamburger. A dry hamburger -- with no condiments. I had to give up something didn’t I?

I took my time eating the whip cream coconut fruity thing. Not because I wanted to but because an annoying person at the table kept asking me questions and insisted that I answer them. I was asked for my opinion on several topics. I answered politely but in my head there was a constant stream of “CAN YOU NOT SEE I AM EATING YOU SILLY FOOL? I NEED THIS SO BACK OFF !! ONE MORE QUESTION AND I WILL POP!! WHY I OUGHTTA. . .” and soon I was finished with all the food on the paper plate. I scraped the last of it off with my plastic fork just in time for the fudge to be placed in front of me. UH OH.

Home-made creamy fudge. No nuts as I said before but fudge. Chocolate f u d g e. It was cut in small pieces so I thought to my self “one piece, just one piece and I will wait for the burgers to be done”. I won’t bore you with the details, no I did not lick the plate, but I put away a hefty chunk.

Now to just wait for the burgers (small belch here). Just a waitin’ for the boigers . . . (bigger belch here). Just gonna sit and wait for the . . . . Oh goody they’re done!!!

Did you ever walk up to a task with the absolute knowledge of how it was to be carried out? Well I did just that. I walked right up to that buffet table knowing that I was going to have a dry well done burger and eat only half of it. I walked away from that table with a burger that I had no physical way to fit my mouth around.

I got it back to the table with a sheepish look on my face and an “oh well what’s a girl to do” attitude. The small voice in my head that kept reminding me that I was to have only half of a dry burger was reduced to a small whimper by the resounding shout of “oh yeah baby!!” (still in my head of course).

Hours later, after the table games were over and we were packing up to leave, I realized that I could barely breathe and that waddle walk had started again. Damn.

So here I am punching the start button on the torture device also known as a treadmill and wondering why would it be so hard to figure out how to make a pair of earphones that do not tangle into horrific knots the minute they leave your hands. I nod at the - of course - beautiful slim Asian girl next to be, a new different one. I congratulate my self on being cordial to the girl at the front desk - she is a single digit size, under a size 8 I am sure. As the treadmill belt begins to move I start my ipod. The first strains of Brickhouse by the Commodores fills my ears and I think to myself “ soon, not this minute but soon I will be . . . . . Mighty.”

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