Too Much Harper's + Too Little Exercise = Too Much Me (Part Two)

How had I not seen that coming? I suppose allowing more pictures of me to be taken along the way would have helped. I had never really enjoyed being photographed so it was easy enough to just make sure I was photographed even less. So I guess when you never see yourself in print it’s easy to think of yourself as you’ve always been. Actually, there are so few pictures of me my family, upon my death, will have a hard time putting together one of those slide shows done for funeral home visitation.

My friend’s proclamation that evening should not have come as some huge revelation, though I remember being about as stunned as I’m sure John was on the isle of Patmos. Lord knows my family reminded me enough. Some were, out of love, very blunt with me about it. Others were more polite.

I remember the time we went and spent a few days with John’s maternal grandparents. They lived a couple hours away so this was the first time we had seen them since our wedding. Granny was originally from Canada and became a naturalized citizen after marrying Papa. She was a very gentle, polite woman who still had tea and cookies each day and remained loyal to the monarchy. Her notice of my extra baggage came as one would expect from someone who lived during the depression, “My, you sure are looking healthy.”

I’m certain it was even more obvious to Granny because I was standing next to her grandson. John was blessed at birth with the great fortune of a very high metabolism. Makes me sick. He can eat anything, and I mean anything, and not gain weight. He’s one of these people who talk of having a desire to gain weight. Insert finger into throat now. Sometimes it has been too much to bear and I have actually told him the wrong pants or shoes to wear just so his appearance would be a little off and not so perfect. Okay, so I was a lot younger then and more immature and prone to petty jealousy. I swear I have not done anything like that in, at least, the last month or two.

To be continued...

Too Much Harper's + Too Little Exercise = Too Much Me

I would like to say I came to the realization this weekend that I am terribly out of shape and unhealthy and need to do something about it. Truth is, I came to this realization about 21 years ago but somewhat failed to follow through on the whole do-something-about-it part. As January 1 approached I told myself that 1990, 1991, 1992, (you get the picture) would be the year I would make a change. Unfortunately, I am the kind of girl who expects things to fall in my lap.

This is a terrible thing to admit, but I have never had to work really hard at anything in my life. High school was easy for me. No, I wasn’t a whiz kid. Quite the opposite, I was content to get by with an average grade. At the end of a semester I would average my grades and figure out that I could pass a particular class with a C if I made a 20 on the semester exam. Then I would only study 1/5 of the material. A brilliant plan, huh? By the way, if you happen to be reading this post and are currently enrolled as a high-schooler, please, for the love of all that is good and decent, do not follow in my footsteps. Yes, your life may be more relaxed but you will regret walking the graduation line without those pretty little golden cords.

College was even easier. I found that I possessed a knack for the art of BS. And anyone who has attended college can tell you that a good 40 - 50% of your grade can come from being skilled in this area.

For the most part, life has gone relatively smooth. Thankfully, I have had few struggles. Except for my weight.

Prior to my marriage I was thin. Not runway, anorexic skinny, but thin. For my height, my weight was fine. Then came marriage and college, along with fast food at the Grill and Pizza Hut lunches with the gang from the teacher program. And soon I became another statistic in the number of overweight Americans.

I was not even really aware that I was packing on the pounds...until about nine months after I married. My baby niece was in a beauty contest (her first of many) at the local high school and I was there to cheer her on. I was standing in the hall when a former classmate approached me with this stunned look on her face. “Tyla? Is that you?” “Yes, hi. How are ya?” “Oh my gahhhsh! You’ve gotten so fat!” What do you say to that? My first thought was to come back at her with some mean-spirited comment inquiring as to whether or not she ever went back and got that GED since she didn’t actually graduate with our class, but I resisted. I realized she hadn’t made her comment out of meanness, just tactlessness.

TO BE CONTINUED...