The Difference Between Men and Women
I have been battling my weight for many years, probably since adolescence. It is a frustrating battle. I was always active, involved in sports and leisure activities, but the weight always hung on, no matter what I did or did not eat. I think I really messed things up when I was about 15, going through long starvation stretches, and periods when I wouldn't eat more than 400 calories a day. The metabolism adjusts itself to such severities, in self-preservation.
Since my last pregnancy, and a subsequent return to college, I've really had a battle. The pounds creep on, regardless of my faithfulness to the gym and salads.
Well, DH decides he's put on too much weight recently, too. (He doesn't even have a belly to speak of...just a slight rounding in front, where he used to be concave, and flat.) He decides to lose it...goes for a week without bread, substitutes extra servings of fruit and veggies and goes to the gym maybe four times in four weeks.
Today, he announces, he's lost 10 pounds. In four weeks. Ten pounds.
I've been strictly disciplined all summer and lost only 7. Almost 4 months, 7 pounds.
And that, my dear, is the difference between men and women.
Not fair, is it?
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Friday, September 22, 2006
Bittersweet Endings and New Beginnings
As I shuffled into the early morning kitchen, my eyes swollen from yesterday's too-much-exposure-to-Nature's-allergens, my throat also saying it wasn't happy, I reached for my precious horde of teabags. Now this little collection of mine isn't just any ordinary set of teabags. It represents four separate and distinct moments in time that I am trying to preserve forever.
Number One Son went on a trip to London with his godfather several years ago, and brought me back tea from Harrods. For a young boy, this was such a thoughtful gift. I love tea, and the moments spent relaxing with a cup in my hands, while I enjoy something else...a good book, a good friend, a quiet moment out listening to the birds... I made that first box last as long as I possibly could. (I don't know if you can freeze tea...and, as there was no expiration date, I don't really know what the shelf-life is, either.)
A few years later, DD (Dear Daughter) went on a similar trip with the same godfather, and brought me back a beautiful china tea-cup. I am very careful with that cup, keeping it on a high shelf where it can't accidentally get knocked over, and I savor my times drinking out of it.
Then, in college, DD went on a Spring-Break missions trip to Scotland and brought
me back Scottish tea. Even the box is wonderful, with all its little Scottish turns of speech.
Finally, this past May, Number One Son went to Europe on a youth-hostel-backpacking trip to celebrate his college graduation. As he was limited with the backpack in what gifts he could bring back, what did he bring me? Two boxes of tea from Harrods. Ahhh...there it is again.
So, I have these four precious items: the teacup, the Scottish tea, and the two boxes of tea from Harrods. They are all mine, but in a non-Gollum-ish way. No one else really wants them, as the rest of the family doesn't have this same relishing of these particular teas that I do, so I don't have to share. This morning I wondered, again, how long these teabags will last. I will savor them to the bittersweet end, the last priceless cup of each kind.
It occurs to me that I have a particular appreciation for the bittersweet ends of things, and for new beginnings. Something in me wants to make a special mark in my memory for certain experiences, so that I can re-live them over and over. I don't want to take for granted that last wonderful swim in the bay before the weather turns too cold. Similarly, I want to slowly dip my toes in the first delicious time, when the water feels icy, early in the Spring. It's the same way with the first strawberry of the season, and the last...the first corn, and the last.
I remember an episode of Gilmore Girls, where Rory goes off to Yale, and her mom is moving her into her dorm room. Rory is so preoccupied with the day's scheduled events, her face buried in the college hand-outs, that she's not noticing the dorm suite. Her mom says suddenly, "Do over!" and makes her walk out of the suite, close the door, put the schedule down, and do it all over again, to get the proper first impression. (I have to admit, I'm a bit jealous that Rory went to a college about an hour and a half away, and Lorelai could take her there, making several trips with all the stuff, while my DD chose a school on the other end of the country.) But, beyond that, I can so relate with Lorelai, and her need to truly experience specific events that stand out like markings on life's timeline.
I savor, relish, dwell on, deeply enjoy and delight in special beginnings and endings. Visits with loved ones, really good books, or movies, wonderful experiences...I want every second to count, sort of like the perfumer extracting the very essence out of a flower.
Summer's bittersweet end is here, and there's Janet's visit with her two little ones frollicking around with my Little-Sir-3-Year-Old, the beginning of fall, a new semester at school, mornings with DH now that he's back on the late shift, and so much more. I have my tea, and a gorgeous early morning warm sun on my back, and I am savoring it until I must get to the chores of the day.
Happy September, everybody!
As I shuffled into the early morning kitchen, my eyes swollen from yesterday's too-much-exposure-to-Nature's-allergens, my throat also saying it wasn't happy, I reached for my precious horde of teabags. Now this little collection of mine isn't just any ordinary set of teabags. It represents four separate and distinct moments in time that I am trying to preserve forever.
Number One Son went on a trip to London with his godfather several years ago, and brought me back tea from Harrods. For a young boy, this was such a thoughtful gift. I love tea, and the moments spent relaxing with a cup in my hands, while I enjoy something else...a good book, a good friend, a quiet moment out listening to the birds... I made that first box last as long as I possibly could. (I don't know if you can freeze tea...and, as there was no expiration date, I don't really know what the shelf-life is, either.)
A few years later, DD (Dear Daughter) went on a similar trip with the same godfather, and brought me back a beautiful china tea-cup. I am very careful with that cup, keeping it on a high shelf where it can't accidentally get knocked over, and I savor my times drinking out of it.
Then, in college, DD went on a Spring-Break missions trip to Scotland and brought
me back Scottish tea. Even the box is wonderful, with all its little Scottish turns of speech.
Finally, this past May, Number One Son went to Europe on a youth-hostel-backpacking trip to celebrate his college graduation. As he was limited with the backpack in what gifts he could bring back, what did he bring me? Two boxes of tea from Harrods. Ahhh...there it is again.
So, I have these four precious items: the teacup, the Scottish tea, and the two boxes of tea from Harrods. They are all mine, but in a non-Gollum-ish way. No one else really wants them, as the rest of the family doesn't have this same relishing of these particular teas that I do, so I don't have to share. This morning I wondered, again, how long these teabags will last. I will savor them to the bittersweet end, the last priceless cup of each kind.
It occurs to me that I have a particular appreciation for the bittersweet ends of things, and for new beginnings. Something in me wants to make a special mark in my memory for certain experiences, so that I can re-live them over and over. I don't want to take for granted that last wonderful swim in the bay before the weather turns too cold. Similarly, I want to slowly dip my toes in the first delicious time, when the water feels icy, early in the Spring. It's the same way with the first strawberry of the season, and the last...the first corn, and the last.
I remember an episode of Gilmore Girls, where Rory goes off to Yale, and her mom is moving her into her dorm room. Rory is so preoccupied with the day's scheduled events, her face buried in the college hand-outs, that she's not noticing the dorm suite. Her mom says suddenly, "Do over!" and makes her walk out of the suite, close the door, put the schedule down, and do it all over again, to get the proper first impression. (I have to admit, I'm a bit jealous that Rory went to a college about an hour and a half away, and Lorelai could take her there, making several trips with all the stuff, while my DD chose a school on the other end of the country.) But, beyond that, I can so relate with Lorelai, and her need to truly experience specific events that stand out like markings on life's timeline.
I savor, relish, dwell on, deeply enjoy and delight in special beginnings and endings. Visits with loved ones, really good books, or movies, wonderful experiences...I want every second to count, sort of like the perfumer extracting the very essence out of a flower.
Summer's bittersweet end is here, and there's Janet's visit with her two little ones frollicking around with my Little-Sir-3-Year-Old, the beginning of fall, a new semester at school, mornings with DH now that he's back on the late shift, and so much more. I have my tea, and a gorgeous early morning warm sun on my back, and I am savoring it until I must get to the chores of the day.
Happy September, everybody!
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