Wednesday, July 2, 2008

My Ass is Staging a Coup

When my ass heard about my plans to lose 10 pounds before vacation, it talked things over with my stomach and decided to stage a coup.

Call it Murphy’s Law, call it anarchy, I don’t know. What I do know is that ever since I decided to try and lose 10 pounds before vacation I’ve actually gained weight.

Truth be told, I want to lose 10 pounds so that I can eat and drink whatever the hell I want, when I want, and as much as I want while I’m away for those 5 days.

I can’t pinpoint the exact time food became a highlight of, and synonymous with, vacation for me. When I was very small, vacationing was about playing all day—in the pool or on a beach, it was all about the play. Then, as I got older, it was still about the pool or beach, but it was also about building a tan and meeting boys on the boardwalk. Now, I’m pasty white, I wear SPF 50, I’m in a committed relationship, and I’m convinced I’ll get bitten or stung by something in the ocean or contract a parasite from pool water. So, basically I’ve gone from playful to egotistical to paranoid and gluttonous—wonderful.

I don’t know if it’s my sudden attention to what I’m eating and how often I’m exercising or the self-imposed restrictions I’ve put on myself, but I can’t seem to get the dieting right. This actually supports my theory that people get fat by dieting.

So, what’s the problem here? Why is it so important to me to be able to binge on my vacation?

I think the ability to binge on vacation has become important to me because it’s a sort of rebellion from my everyday life where I am mindful of what I eat and where I don’t allow myself to drink during the week. Not only that, but we put so many restrictions on ourselves in daily life. We tell ourselves that we must do this or that, that every other person is able to do it, but no one actually can do all these things we try to accomplish and hold ourselves to in our daily lives without the help of housekeepers, nannys, chefs, or personal assistants, and it makes us wanting to run screaming, because we feel like failures. Then there’s this one week a year where we’re free. We have no place to be and no reason to stay sober, so we go overboard and use that one week to go somewhere expensive, overindulge on food and drink, and act like assholes.

Maybe if we didn’t hold ourselves to such strict standards in daily life, maybe if we cut ourselves a little slack, we’d not only feel the need not to act like drunken gluttonous idiots while on vacation, but also we’d be less stressed in daily life.

I can see now why my ass decided to revolt. And I think it just convinced my brain to join the cause. Sheesh! If only my ass were more vocal, I would have realized the err of my ways earlier. Then again, maybe I’m just talking out my ass.

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