I Better Wake Up Skinny

This summer, thus far, I have done little more than physical labor -- planting, hoeing, loading hay, loading firewood, moving feed, fencing, cleaning buildings, cleaning houses, chasing naughty goats, and hauling trash. It looks like with all this activity that I should weigh seven pounds.

Not by any stretch of the imagination is this true.

Somehow, my weight stays nearly the same. Really.

This is pushing me to saying some very nasty things about my metabolism. Things you might not want your mother to hear.

Why is it that our bodies immediately go into the "overwork! too little food!! warning! Warning!! WARNING!! Hold onto every calorie and squeeeeeezzzzze it for every single tinee tiney bit of FAT you can" mode?? I know nutritionists believe it is to keep us from starving to death quickly in times of famine, but can't my body tell when I am working like 12 men or 1 woman that I am NOT starving to death? I am moving, for crying out loud! If I were hungry, I would be in the kitchen, not on the back of the truck!

Today I have loaded an entire truckload of firewood, TWICE! Once from the field to a trailer and then to the truck and, in a few minutes, I will UNLOAD it to the wood pile. That should negate the ice cream cone I had when I went for feed, don't you think?? And the cookies I ate between loading from the trailer to the truck... and the soda... wait... er.... nevermind....

We now resume our regular blog. Look! Over there! It's a goat....

The Bonds of Friendship

Valerie and I were hired within six months of each other and have spent our tenure as frequent workshop roommates and best work buddies. We talk students, walk off grief, and have lunch together several times a month. While we seldom see each other off campus. we live more than 50 miles apart, we are, I consider, close friends.

And, so, when she asked me to participate in the college's "health challenge," I eagerly agreed. Okay, not eagerly. But I did answer her email. In short, it is a six month commitment to work toward better health. Along the way, we are to lose weight, lower our cholesterol, and improve our general well-being. Great. Fine. I am all up for that. Val's a buddy. Right?

Little did I know what a set-up it was.

Valerie is not quite 4'6" and weighs a very slight 105 pounds. She is nearly 60 years old and bikes weekly. She walks and exercises more than an hour a day. Heck, she is halfway through her black belt. Maybe I don't like her as much as I thought.

Anyhow...

Also on our team in Rita. She is a tiny 5'1" and around 120 pounds. She rides bikes, runs, canoes, and cave dives at nearly 60. She auditioned for "Survivor." Come to think of it, I don't know if I really like her either.

But I digress.

And then, there is me. Thank you, but my weight isn't really the issue here, but my newfound disappointment that I didn't inherit any slim genes is growing daily. I should have realized when I signed up that I would have to face certain disappointments. We had to weigh. And measure our waists (I know it is here somewhere). Then figure our BMI. Thankfully, I am not morbidly obese. Sigh.

My idea of a work out is walking to the kitchen twice for a snack. The snack? Sourdough bread with butter and honey. My idea of endurance is driving past Wendy's for McDonald's. My idea of a good weight? One that is less than my sissie's.

So, it should come as no surprise my agony when learning that I had to account, report, to Valerie how many fruits and veggies I eat daily as well as what kind of vigorous activity I complete daily. For the record, cocoa beans in chocolate form do not count as a fruit... or veggie. Valerie insists she is right. I am still researching this one.

I have been very good this week. I have walked every day. I have eaten five servings of veggies (in spite of her insistence that chocolate doesn't count! According to Google, she's right. ). I have done my BMI (we shall not speak of it again).

Yes, I know it is just Wednesday. Thanks for the reminder.