A few months before my wedding, a well-meaning colleague announced, "You've lost a ton of weight." I hadn't realized that I had evolved into an Orca and we now had to discuss my weight loss in tonnage...
Like most couples, we were trying to lose weight before our wedding. And, like most couples, we enjoyed eating everything in sight during our honeymoon. The problem, however, falls in the timing of our wedding: 10/23. Two weeks after returning from the all-you-can-eat honeymoon, we celebrated Thanksgiving, the all-you-can-eat holiday. And then came the full swing of the holiday season, resulting in some significant heft. I'll need to lose roughly 13 pounds - oh, sorry, tons - to get back to my pre-wedding weight.
Why does no one mention this? We received no warning regarding this phenomenon, and yet when I mentioned it to two fairly recent newlyweds, they nodded knowingly and then commiserated with me.
Well, let this post serve as the warning:
Dear affianced,
I know planning a wedding can be stressful, dredging up emotions that you have spent the majority of your adult life trying to ignore, rationalize or exorcise. Have no fear: it will all be over soon and you will have a great time at your wedding. Then you'll honeymoon and have an even better time; you'll eat, drink and throw caution (not to mention money) to the wind.
Then you'll come home and adjust to married life. You'll start to feel comforted by the lack of wedding planning stress. And you'll celebrate. You'll be pleased with your commitment to your new spouse. And you'll celebrate. You'll tuck away your wedding finery and revel in the pictures where you both looked so happy. And you'll celebrate.
Then, one morning, you'll attempt to zip your favorite pants and - good God - it's painful. You've celebrated. A lot. And that is okay...the pants are merely the symbol of a good time and a happy life. Now it's just time to revel it in. Good luck!
Now, it's off to the gym and to the grocery store (where salt & vinegar Pringles will not magically find its way into my basket).
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
Maslow and Laslow Kittyfeld
It's been forever since I've posted and, frankly, it's because I grew weary of writing about weddings. This can't come as a shock, seeing as I have never purported to be a fan of them in the first place. I loved mine. I had fun. Moving on...
Today, I finally saw Maslow - resurrected from what I presumed to be the dead. Who is Maslow? He's a cat that lives in the courtyard behind our building. His brother is Laslow. They were born here two years ago when our building was undergoing some requisite pointing and our awesome Supers built them this Kittie Manse in the backyard. Of course, the Supers call them Heckle and Jeckle, but they'll always be Maslow and Laslow to us (Maslow, stemming from a conversation about the hierarchy of needs and whether it applies to kitties as well as humans; and Laslow as an homage to Laslow Hollyfeld, the elusive character from the film Real Genius).
I will carry my camera to see if I can get a snapshot of either of them - they are crafty little suckers, so this may be tricky .
Why am I writing about this? Well, I can't sleep (a common affliction for me) and, in an effort to lull my mind, I am fixating on the positive elements of my day. The Maslow siting made the top of the list. I haven't seen him for months and thought, sadly, that he had succumbed to the elements.
Yes, the cat was the highlight: it certainly was NOT the pool of vomit I had to traverse as I stepped off the subway car this evening. Ah, St. Patrick's Day: the day I should spend reflecting on the struggles of my people, but instead spend dodging drunken suburban teenagers in the streets of Manhattan and drunken Sunnysiders in Queens. Good times.
Today, I finally saw Maslow - resurrected from what I presumed to be the dead. Who is Maslow? He's a cat that lives in the courtyard behind our building. His brother is Laslow. They were born here two years ago when our building was undergoing some requisite pointing and our awesome Supers built them this Kittie Manse in the backyard. Of course, the Supers call them Heckle and Jeckle, but they'll always be Maslow and Laslow to us (Maslow, stemming from a conversation about the hierarchy of needs and whether it applies to kitties as well as humans; and Laslow as an homage to Laslow Hollyfeld, the elusive character from the film Real Genius).
I will carry my camera to see if I can get a snapshot of either of them - they are crafty little suckers, so this may be tricky .
Why am I writing about this? Well, I can't sleep (a common affliction for me) and, in an effort to lull my mind, I am fixating on the positive elements of my day. The Maslow siting made the top of the list. I haven't seen him for months and thought, sadly, that he had succumbed to the elements.
Yes, the cat was the highlight: it certainly was NOT the pool of vomit I had to traverse as I stepped off the subway car this evening. Ah, St. Patrick's Day: the day I should spend reflecting on the struggles of my people, but instead spend dodging drunken suburban teenagers in the streets of Manhattan and drunken Sunnysiders in Queens. Good times.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)