Smile-breaks
Calories Come, Calories Go...
I’m here at Starbucks with Paul, sipping coffee while he slurps down his decaffeinated iced peppermint mocha latte with oodles of whipped cream on the top.
How come he can drink all those calories and not get fat? Here I am with my almost zero calorie coffee – no cream, no sugar - because my rigorous dieting last January and February and March that lost me close to ten pounds is a thing of the past. Pounds lost; pounds gained. Will power strong; will power lost. Exercise lots; exercise never. Excuses ignored; excuses galore.
Six months later and I’m halfway back to where I started, but today is the first day of a week’s vacation and it’s occurred to me how great it would be to go back to work a whole ten pounds lighter.
Gee! I hadn’t really been thinking ten pounds! Maybe five… But now I’ve thrown out the gauntlet – why not? All I have to do is stop eating.
Well, not that easy. Tried it once. Didn’t work. “Tried” being the operative word. Besides, you have to eat. But if you eat, you have to exercise. Calories in; calories out. How come the calories go in faster than they go out?
I don’t know where to go from here. A rigorous diet? An hour of exercise a day? Both?!!! This would be a totally new way of life for me.
But I have no excuse. A week off. Lots of time for exercise and selecting proper foods and portioning out miniscule portions. Lots of time to think about iced peppermint mocha lattes topped off with swirls of whipped cream.
Oops! Censored! No thoughts of the good stuff. No thoughts of lazy evenings on the couch watching “Ugly Betty” and “So You Think You Can Dance?” A week of penance. A week to – darn! Football season’s just getting started. And the Padres are in the race for the Wild Card – maybe even first place.
If I sit and watch all those games, there’s no way I’m not gonna sneak into the kitchen for a tiny scoopful of caramel cheesecake ice cream. Just a tiny one.
Or some popcorn. Not too many calories there. Unless you eat too much. Hard to stop when the Chargers are working their way down the field. Gotta celebrate that touchdown; console myself over the missed field goal.
Stop! Ten pounds is a serious matter. Maybe I should take up baseball myself. Or football. Can’t play defense. Didn’t gain that much weight - fortunately. A running back, that’s what I’ll train for. Or a wide receiver.
No! Not a wide receiver – a wide receiver, football terms. I’ll practice running down the driveway, ready to catch a Hail Mary pass, while the Chargers are running around on the screen, sacking quarterbacks, intercepting passes, returning the kickoff for the first touchdown of the game.
Now baseball, that’s tougher. Standing in the outfield waiting for a fly ball isn’t going to work off many calories. Holding my glove outstretched, my toe on the bag, waiting for the pitcher to pick off the runner – that isn’t going to lose more than a calorie or two. And sitting in the dugout, waiting for my ups – I’ll have to forego the temptation to slug down the Gatorade.
Calories come. That’s all there is to it. Calories come. Maybe I’ll try out for “So You Think You Can Dance.” That looks pretty rigorous. Come to think of it, dancing down the driveway sounds a lot more fun than running full speed for a Hail Mary pass that’s probably going to be intercepted.
Just hope the neighbors are inside watching the Chargers…