Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Pizza Is Not The Answer ...

On Oprah the other day, Jessica Seinfeld was hawking her new book, Deceptively Delicious. Frustrated with trying to get veggies down the throats of her offspring, she started pureeing the "yucky" stuff and sneaking it into brownies and mac 'n' cheese and other kid-friendly favorites. Smart girl, that Mrs. Seinfeld.

One of the segments on the show was about a family whose children are all quite overweight. A third of the kids in this country are overweight, but the twist to this story is that the mom is a Pilates instructor and dad is a big fitness buff. So there they are, working out, but the kids are watching TV and eating junk. To demonstrate where the boys will end up if they continue on their current path, a computer-y person created morphs of each of the boys from their current ages to 40. And the parents were startled and saddened by what they saw. The mom got teary and said, "I feel like a failure."

I yelled at my TV, "DON'T HAVE IT IN THE HOUSE!" The kids don't drive. They can't go to the store and buy crap. So don't buy it for them.

Walking through the store the other night, I saw a mom pushing a cart with her kids in tow and in her cart were two boxes of Little Debbie Frosted Donuts and I wanted to stop her and say, "Why are you going to let them eat that?" I get that people want a donut every once in a while, but go to the bakery and buy donuts. Donuts that are made fresh, with actual ingredients. Not donuts that were made out of chemicals six months ago and wrapped in plastic and stuffed in a box then crammed in a case then put on a truck then shipped to a store and put on a shelf.

Today's trainer session ended with me asking what I should eat immediately following a workout. He recommended a protein drink, which, of course, the gym happens to sell. So I bought one, Dutch Chocolate, and it wasn't bad. It was like chocolate drink, not chocolate milk, but then, it also only had four grams of fat, and hello!, 40 grams of protein! I bought a couple four-packs today at a Vitamin Shoppe by the mall, both chocolate and vanilla, but spent as much as I did at the gym. I'll need to order cases online if I want to save any appreciable money.

When I got home, I plugged Mr. Trainer Man's name into Google and you know what I found? Pictures. Here's one of them. Note the pizza boxes scattered across the floor. I wonder if this shot was staged and I wonder what's wrong with me that in a picture featuring such an amazing body, I'm looking at the mess in the background. I mean, look at this guy! He's not competing right now, but he has an amazing body, massive arms, broad chest, small waist. Whew. It's good to see what's possible if you're willing to put in the work.

And swear off pizza. I've sworn off pizza. For now.

Today, while I was dutifully doing everything he told me to do, we got to chatting and I told him about the singing. So he started calling me Beyonce, which I find very funny. I started referring to myself in the third person, such as "Beyonce says 'goodbye' " when I was leaving or "Beyonce is going to start wearing sparkly outfits to her workouts."

It's good to laugh while you're at the gym, while you're pushing your muscles to do things they may have never done. I felt like we really hit our stride today, Mr. Trainer Man and me, like he's no longer some stranger who's counting my reps but a partner and teacher who will help me reach my goals.

But this Beyonce wants a slightly smaller ass.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

"computer-y" ? it made me chuckle. thanks.

9:54 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

And it looks like a picture of Iran's President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad on the wall, just over his right hand in the picture.

9:57 PM  

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