Cooking?

being a fatty means that i love to eat. loving to eat has sparked a passion for cooking. being the people person that i am, i love to cook for crowds. the other night, we were having a few friends in and i was making a very simple chicken recipe for the occasion. i am convinced that if i fail to have a meltdown and panic in the middle of food preparation, the food wil turn out wretched.

to give a bit of background on culinary meltdowns, they are not funny. many people have this illusion (created by Amy Adams in the movie Julie and Julia) and seem to think that meltdowns are comical and even cute. the image of Julie Powell lying on the floor of her teeny kitchen after she has this cute little pout over her un-trussable chicken is quite the opposite of how i melt down.

let me paint a scenario for you: the recipe calls for a nonstick skillet, which i do not have. instead, i use a little oil and a stainless steel pan. should be fine. seeing as i am this culinary genius, i left the flame on as high as possible. when the pan proceeded to erupt in a bunch of pops, i began to panic. i was shouting incoherently at all who were in the kitchen. i lunged toward the rainstorm of hot grease with the tongs in hand. as i reached the tongs out to turn the stove down, (kep in mind i am a very large man, six foot four and WELL over 200 punds) flailing frantically, the grease attacked me and popped a good two feet and hit me squarely in the face. i began screaming expletives and jumping about in a manner ill fitting someone of my height age and girth.

this was not cute, nor was it comical. it was serious.

just......stuff.

i realize that as of yet, all my posts have been quite negative. this is not because my life is merely one tragic failure day after day. i do have good days where i stay within my calorie limits and blah blah blah. those things are no fun to read about. i mean, what would i say? well. i stayed within my calorie limits, the end. it's far more satisfying to have a hearty chuckle about a comically portrayed failure than to politely smile because someone had a boringly good day.

well as i am sure you can guess by the aforementioned theme of failure, this blog will be no different. since we last spoke i have indeed succumbed to the alluring curves of the couch on more than one occasion. rather than exercise, i sit on the couch watching Betty White and rue McLanahan do their magic as they dance across the set of Golden Girls and then i mozy on over to the computer and put on my favorite music and tell you people about all the times i have fallen down on this cruel path that is weightloss. so as Fiona Apple belts out a song about her mechanical prowess, i tell you that i did in fact just eat half a pack of lunch meat. (it is delicious plain or with honey mustard)

it is a shameful thing to look down at the table and realize that in the process of making a sandwich, you've eaten enough ingredients for about four sandwiches. you know how it goes, i lay out the slices of bread, get out the turkey, eat a slice as i lay the slices down on the bread and turn to the lettuce, lay it on the sandwich, and oh, whats this? turkey! another 2 slices. then i put some cheese on ...hello turkey! and as i put all the ingredients away, i might as well snag a couple slices of that delicious, succulent breast meat. before i realize whats come over me, i have to run to the store for more lunch meat.

and of course, another debacle.

This morning, after a delightfully appropriate breakfast, i packed myself and equally appropriate lunch. i did in fact forget that during class today, we were presenting our projects and some of said projects included food. i planned to lightly snack on all of the offerings and cut back at lunch or dinner. unfortunately i looked up and through the door came the most incredible thing. it was a bay-watch moment she walks in and her hair blows back and a heavenly light emanates radiantly from the pan she carries. all traces of willpower died with my dignity as i began to devour chicken wings one after another in a way that would make a Neanderthal blush. i remember looking down at a pan full of wing sauce and a plate full of crumbs and feeling this burn in my chest as the hot sauce burned a hole through my digestive tract. as i surveyed the debris and took in the damages, i wondered what i had become.

needless to say that the wings were merely the beginning and from there i made my mark on other student's dishes. when lunch time came, i felt obliged to give my turkey and hummus wrap to others who were fortunately endowed with higher metabolic rates.

now supper time is here and i still feel as if i should be floated at the Macy's parade. my pilates mat is eying me from its closet. i can feel the angry stare it burns into my belly. i know i should retrieve it and get my stretch on . but the couch is being more seductive. the pilate mat is the guilt tripping mother that says, if you neglect me, think what will happen! how dare you! after all i've done!? the couch is the alluring woman that calls out in a sexy smooth voice. remember last time you laid on me? how soft i am? take me! you see my fat man's dilemma.

so close.....so close.

oh dear dear dear. every day its the same. i apportion myself a delicious and appropriate amount of food for breakfast and i stick with it. i apportion myself an appropriate amount of food for lunch and i stick with it. then supper hits and i just give up. it seems that there is this wretched curse attached to evenings. the food is there, waiting and it will probably go bad or maybe someone else will eat it if i don't. and then of course there's always the thought of "oh i am still a young thing, i can bounce off the calories in some youthful and enjoyable activity that any common young person does. like working out or playing tennis or swimming, you know, i can get healthy tomorrow, of course its too late tonight because lost is about to come on, but tomorrow is a fresh start. so as long as ive gone over on the calorie limit, i may as well make it another fat tuesday.

you see the tragic spiral we fatty's plummet into. of course there are simple solutions. for instance, i consider all fruits and vegetables my little freebies. i can eat them with reckless abandon and not have to record the calorie intake. this trick works for a bit. i sneak into the kitchen, slide out a long crunchy stalk of celery and feel so sneaky and naughty as i savor every flavorless bite. i am able to feel reckless in these moments because, i am eating a whole celery stalk and not recording the calories! what a rebellious way to trick yourself! then, when the pantry has been purged of pineapple and grapes, the freezer beckons seductively. i look around to make sure no vegetables are in sight. i feel a guilty quiver of delight in my stomach. i suppress my hurried breaths as i inch toward the freezer. it's seductive powers are unparalleled. i feel almost dirty as i pull back the door and i try my best to block the thoughts of my infidelity to the veggies. then, as i lift the spoon to my mouth, i think to myself, "oh this is so much more satisfying than fruit!"after a disappointingly short pleasure trip, the ice cream is gone too. and i am left, once a gain, alone. and fat.

Diet Debacle #1

well. the thing that seems to be the most effective for my weight loss is counting calories. it works perfectly. when i stay within my limit. here is a typical day for you. i had three poached eggs for breakfast with two slices of buttered toast and a cup of hot tea. sounds extravagant but it was all well within my breakfast limit of 5oo calories. so the morning meal went swimmingly. i proceeded to lunch. i had a full can of vegetable orzo soup, a turkey, neufchatel and hummus wrap and a cup f blueberries. all very delicious and perfectly within my limits. i consumed a small snack when i got home, forgetting entirely what it was. first mistake.

i then had some busy errands to run and returned home a few hours later utterly famished. my relative was over for their birthday celebration and a proper feast was prepared; it's the fitting thing to do. having don e so stellarly all day, i took small portions of roast beef and gravy and mashed potatoes and 2 light rolls. it was gone before i knew i'd tasted it. that was the downward spiral into the abyss. i stopped counting how many rolls i had after number six and stopped eating mashed potatoes and gravy only after i realized i had made a particularly noticable hole in the amounts of both.

later on that night, while partaking of one of my favorite activities, couch potato-ing, i got the non marijuana munchies. they come frequently to those of us who fall into the diet debacle category. usually, when the urge hits i get the celery and carrot sticks out or frantically chug numerous glasses of water to stave of the cravings. not this time.

as Monica and Chandler made their last funny comments before the commercial, i darted into the kitchen to retrieve my snack. upon opening the refrigerator, i saw the veggies and some water bottles. but, for some reason the tub of cake icing found its way into my hand. along with a spoon. after half the icing was gone i needed something salty to take away the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and pretzels were the cure. as Rachel yelled at Ross and left the room and Martha Kaufman and David Krane had their names flash across the television screen, i heaved a depressed sigh and crinkled up the poor plastic bag. it never saw me coming. now the pretzels were dead. so was my little drive to diet.

Just starting....again.

Like however many millions of Americans, i am now a statistic. well, to be honest, i have been for years. i am obese/overweight. tragic, i know. whatever. being fat is something that no one wishes on themselves but i hardly see the necessity to attach such stigma to something so common! well now that I've sounded nice and opinionated i'll just quit all of that and get to the good part of blogging.

as i said, no one WANTS to be fat, i suppose it just kind of happens. one day we look down and think, oh dear, i thought men didn't have bulges there! and we notice our thighs have begun to look like last week's cottage cheese and parts of our midriff have been permanently creased and marked in a most unattractive way with stretch marks, neither of which are derived form age nor pregnancy. i am no exception to this rule and i too looked down to see the man breasts, stretch marks and cellulite that unfurled on the vast landscape that has become my body. needless to say i have tried to diet. let me tell you, the very best person to write the perfect diet book is a chronic fatty. believe me, i know ALL the tricks. i could tell you exactly how to lose the weight you want to lose in any amount of time. i just lack the drive or willpower to follow through with my many brilliant body reduction schemes.

as for my dieting, i did brilliantly for a while. i lost oh, forty pounds and kept it off. until Christmas. stupid happy holidays and love and quality time with loved ones and all that rot. all it left me with was extra jiggle. despite the fact that i enjoy being in the Christmas spirit, i was not actually trying to emulate jolly old St. Nick and adopt his body type. however, i did. i thought, oh, it'll be easy to slip back into a routine and drop weight like its nothing. (even before Christmas, i still had to lose another 40 pounds IN ADDITION to the first 40) obviously it has yet to happen and i have now gained back 10 of the forty pounds i lost to begin with.

so now, i am attempting to chronicle my dieting escapade. i am traveling in Germany in September and i AM determined to look nothing short of sexy by then. so i am just staring out... again. we'll see how this goes.