Weight a minute

Last night, I had a consult with a trainer at my fancy gym.  It was like a slap to my (fat!?) face.  It was a nightmare.  I wanted to cry.  As previously mentioned, my nickname used to be Scrawny Shauni.  A more appropriate nickname now would be Tub of Lard Shauni.  I know I am not huge, but compared to Scrawny Shauni (and to my stick of a husband) I am a house sized person.  It's not that I don't exercise.  I do (usually).  However, I LOVE food.  LOVE love love love love it.  I love food in all of its forms.  Fruits, veggies, pasta, sauces, desserts, seafood, steaks, you name it, I most likely love it.  Except for maybe under ripe bananas.  Gross.  Unfortunately, when I crave something, like really want to eat something REAL BAD, it is never a craving for an apple.  I crave cake.  All of the damn time.  And in the summer, I crave soft serve raspberry ice cream with chocolate jimmies in a cake cone, please.  But 90% of the time I do not give into these cravings.  I can control myself and just bitch to Mr. G about it and then it passes.  Except for this one time...

Living in glorious Truckee, CA, there were no scoop shops like there are every 4 miles in New England.  (Well, actually there was one, but it cost about $13 for a small scoop.  Ricky the Recession Rate forbade it.)  Since there were no scoop shops, I was never tempted to just go get a scoop of ice cream.  Then I got engaged and I gave up desserts entirely.  For about 4 months.  It was miserable.  Then we moved to Vermont.  Imagine moving to the ice cream scoop shop capital of the universe and being tempted every.day. to get a raspberry soft serve ice cream with chocolate jimmies, please,  and not being able to eat it because you have a wedding dress to fit into.  Awful.  So every night after dinner I would cry into Mr. G's shoulder screaming "I NEED ICE CREAM!" and then pop a piece of unsatisfying gum into my mouth instead.

For those of you who are married, you will know that as soon as the wedding is over, you start gorging.  It all starts with the honeymoon, and then it doesn't stop.  Like, ever.  So Mr. G and I ran off and got hitched (in a wedding dress I fit in just fine thankyouverymuch) and came back from our honeymoon and we were sitting on our couch one night watching a movie.  And I had a craving.  An itching for some chocolate ice cream (the soft serve raspberry ice cream with chocolate jimmies season was over at this point).  It was a craving that was impossible to ignore.  Mid-movie I shouted to Mr. G (who was right next to me, but I needed to make sure he heard me) that "I NEED ICE CREAM!"  Now, Mr. G is used to me shouting about my love of food.  What he is not used to is me then standing up, pausing the movie, putting shoes on, grabbing my purse, running to the door, and driving down the street to get a pint of Ben and Jerrie's "Everything but the" without a discussion.  I just got up and left.  I neeeeeeded that ice cream.  It had been YEARS.  I came home about 8 minutes later with the tub of chocolatey gooey goodness, grabbed a spoon, turned the movie back on and sat down with my husband again, and the pint of Ben and Jerrie's.  No big deal.  Until I realized Mr. G had not spoken a word since I left.  I looked over at him and he was staring at me with shock on his face.  No, not just shock.  The man was horrified.  He did not know I could have a craving for ice cream so bad that I would just pause the middle of our very suspenseful movie so I could run out of the house for some "Everything but the."  He told me I was like a lion going for the kill--completely determined and unstoppable.

Thus you understand my issues with my weight.  Let me leave you with this thought.  The beautiful and thin supermodel Kate Moss is famous for saying "Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels."  Well, Ms. Katie, stick this in your skinny-ass mouth and chew it around for awhile--ice cream tastes better than skinny feels.

Until next time,
Putting-on-the-pounds Granny