LIQUID BREAKFAST

CONFESSION #3: I like to drink my food.

Because it's easier, that's why. To take a shake or a smoothie and throw it back like a martini...it requires no thought, it is good when you are on-the-go, it's brainless. (I could tell you I am strapped for time in the morning but then I would have to answer to my older sister, who once lost a buttload of weight by getting up every morning -- before her kids and before heading off to her full-time high-pressure corporate job -- in order to take a nice 7 or 8 mile run. As you might imagine, she's not big on the excuses)

But no matter what peace I find on a personal level with this sneaky maneuver, as a mother it feels somehow improper to drink a SlimFast and call it a meal. It seems illicit, like that cigarette I sneak under the bushes at night. It feels wrong. Immoral. A betrayal. And so I gave up my SlimFast habit when I had kids. Along with sobriety, sanity and any single digit-sized pants I might have owned.

My own mother lived on SlimFast and Dexatrim through some of my formative years and while she fit into her size 8s well into her 50s, I can't say it taught me a whole lot about proper nutrition and hence, perhaps, some of these luscious curves.

And so I feel I owe it to my own kids to research and execute well-balanced meals, involve them in the growing, harvesting and cooking process whenever possible. We have a garden, we visit famer's markets, we cook from scratch together.

Yay me. Where's my medal? I'm fucking exhausted.

Inspired by a visit this past weekend to Be Healthy Boston with fellow curvy girl Rebecca, I finally found a way to cheat without the guilt....... JUICING!

First of all, I got my hands on a book that I loved reading -- called Crazy Sexy Diet by Kris Carr. I love a few things about this book -- namely that she has a fantastical potty mouth and I happen to really respond to that. Also, it has a visual likeness to a magazine, which is good for hyperactive readers like myself.

But her message is one of promoting optimum health and while I have read umpteen books over the years that promote the same practices (blah blah blah become vegetarian blah blah blah give up sugar, caffeine and booze aka everything you enjoy in life blah blah blah take a jillion supplements), somehow she penetrated my thick skull. I am not going to run out get my colon blasted by some spa-like hose (another one of her recommendations) or start dry-brushing my skin at night (okay, I really don't have time for that) but the juicing chapter stopped me in my tracks.

Holy shit. Yes. Take all the veggies that I have been forcing down my throat for the past year and frankly, I am getting quite tired of. Take an extra 5 minutes in the morning to throw them through the juicer and sip on the elixir until lunchtime. Yes, yes, yes. YES!

I am sold; hook, line and sinker. Finally, I am free to get my nutirtion in liquid form without sacrificing everything I know to be true and right -- for my kids -- about healthy eating. As far as they are concerned, I am magically consuming a shit ton of veggies, like always...and they are simply relieved that I am not requiring them to drink my concoctions too.

More for me, then. More for me.

Not Fair!

It’s not fair. It’s just not.

You know what I’m talking about.

Each time you decide to embrace your New Years Resolutions head on….and your husband decides to join you. The fridge is stocked with an abundance of fresh vegetables and shiny fruit. Your exercise routine is mapped and planned. Your workout clothes are prepped and waiting for your body.

You follow your plans as if they are the new life code. Every salad digested and you have sweated your weight in water.

And then IT happens.

Your husband enthusiastically shares he has lost 5 pounds! As he fist pumps and struts his body like a newly feathered peacock, you sneak away to see if you can share in his glory.

You tenderly step on the scale…..hoping if you distribute your weight kindly, the scale will show you what you want to see. One foot. Another foot. You cannot stand to peek.

And then IT happens.

You realize that little piece of crap. How dare the equipment lie to you! You have eaten nothing but according to your carefully thought out eating plan! How dare you! I have exercised five times this week!

Your anger rises like the fury of Mt. St. Helens about to erupt. It has got to be PMS! Yes, that’s it. Even though you just ended your cycle a week before, that was part of the master plan. It’s water. Yes. I drank so much water yesterday that my body has yet to release it. Frig. I ate regular ranch dressing on my salad on Wednesday. You immediately swear to using only vinegar going forward.

You realize that the “Whoots” coming from the other room is your husband, who is still celebrating his 5 pound weight loss. You start to panic and plot an escape plan. Your husband cannot know that despite the same eating and exercise plan, you have only lost 1 pound.

And then IT happens.

His response is “Well, honey, you know muscle weighs more than fat!” His attempt to assuage you and make you feel better is genuine and sweet. Yet, it does not erase the fact that you would like to painfully rip his face off, layer by layer.

That brings to me to this: 5 lbs of muscle weighs exactly the same as 5 lbs of fat. Really. Do the math. 5 = 5. I have used this excuse for years and I have been the subject of this excuse from others.

5 lbs of muscle is more tightly packed and condensed than 5 lbs of fat. This is why - when the evil scale may not budge, your clothes may feel better. Your waistline may feel smaller, those thighs may glide into your pants smoothly, or more likely, your bra may feel saggier.

NO! Not THOSE curves!

Of course. The first to go is not where we want the loss....I said not in the boobs, dammit! Can't my body see that I have a gazillion pounds of fat on my inner thigh and around my belly button?!?

No. It cannot. But, that's okay, because that is how we Curvy Girls roll…..and it’s just not fair!