My very favourite client was in the office last week and he said to me… “Rhondi, just like you, I’ve had Covid-19.”
We burst out laughing after he continued with, “At the end of all of this, I’m not sure if it will end up being nineteen pounds, or nineteen kilograms!”
I don’t know about you, but as an emotional eater, I can generally peg the time of year when circus music begins to chime in my ear signaling me to buy stock in the most profitable potato chip company. And I can assure you, every fall, any and all are generously sampled; as part of my annual stock purchase evaluation.
What can I say. I was a fat toddler. I was power fed homogenized milk, and in those days the perception was the fatter the better. The good news is I shed that baby fat, the bad news is those formed fat cells follow you forever.
I have always been athletic and outgoing but when perimenopause clicked in everything changed. My body absorbed food differently and in one year my metabolism changed exponentially. It was in that moment I knew I was being put to pasture.
Kicking and screaming and the better part of a year later, I lost the excess weight and changed my lifestyle. That was in 2012.
Even with a major change in lifestyle, winters and my seasonal affective disorder in this harsh tundra have me pulling my gravy crutch out of the hall closet bringing the five or ten pound of weight gain that accompany it. The good news is those extra pounds were always shed before I ever had to appear in any sort of summer shorts or swimming outfit.
This year? We locked down. I filled up. The rest is history!
I want to shed the pounds I’ve gained yet I am a creature of habit.
If gravy has a crutch, my philosophy that if I share with the pups I am really only taking in 1/3 of the calories must be a motorized wheelchair. One chip for each of you, one chip for me. One jelly bean for each of you, one jelly bean for me; and trust me, I am always fair in the distribution department.
I guess you could say that the only way the dogs keep the upper paw on me is because they don't have to share their dog cookies with me. Though I must say, on occasion the label on the front of the box has made it cross my mind.
Not gonna lie.... Those gravy covered Milk Bone dog biscuits definitely land within my mid-winter snack bracket!!
#yagottalaughaboutit
It would appear that Annie and I have similar snackage struggles TAKEN: AUGUST 7th, 2020 |
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