For Thanksgiving, Mark and I are planning to have his mom over at my place for dinner. The menu centers on stuffed cabbage, with a tangy tomato sauce. Mark loves to cook, mixing the stuffing (ground veal, beef, pork, egg, onion and bread crumbs) with his fingers. His grandmother made stuffed cabbages in his childhood, and he's done it so many times, he doesn't use a recipe.
Today, Mark drove to New Jersey for Clive's anniversary check-up. Clive is now a year old and has only logged 6500 miles. Meanwhile, I stayed home to clean, relax and visit the gym (woohoo!). I hit the treadmill for half an hour, doing intervals (running at different speeds, from a jog to a near sprint) and lifting weights. During bicep curls, I visualized the pounds melting off. If only it could be so easy.
A few years ago, I was quite toned and wore a size 4 jean. I went to the gym at least four times a week. I drank protein shakes. I felt great but I took my in-shapeness for granted.
At my peak, I met Mark. Since then, it's been downhill. Eating out, sitting at my desk, sitting on the couch and work stress have taken their toll downwards.
Now I weigh only five pounds more than I used to, but I look at least twenty pounds heavier. I have zero muscle. Basically, I look like schmoo. Remember those marshmellowy cartoon characters from a million years ago? That's me. Round, round, round, (though unlike the picture above, I do have arms).
So today, I signed on the dotted line for a gym membership. We'll see. My goal is to be svelte again. I don't think it's biologically possible at this point, but I can at least try. My work schedule is the biggest challenge.
It's now or never. Time to leave Shmooville.
Top photo by myself, in Brooklyn.