Friday, August 21, 2009

I'll have what she's having...

I've been harassing myself (is it even possible to harass one's self?) lately about my diet. After being pregnant for 20 out of 24 months - I had two babies eleven months apart - I took on what some could call a devil-may-care attitude toward food. I was quite proud of myself throughout my pregnancies. I stayed away from Coca Cola, which I love. I followed all of the recommended eating habits and calorie intake guides. Basically I suffered for months, dying for a Coke Icee and Reesy Cups. Once I had Anna though, all bets were off. Dinner out two nights in a row? Sure! I'll have the steak and loaded baked potato please. Coke, chocolate, fried chicken, bring it on!

I'm from the South, which explains my love of food. I can't help it. Most family and church get-togethers are planned with the understanding that food will be present. Massive amounts of food. If you've ever been in a room filled with food cooked by a dozen Southern grandmas, you know what I'm talking about. If not, I highly recommend moving. Immediately.

So anyway, I was looking in the mirror, judging myself, when I decided that it was time to get my act together and get my ghetto booty in shape. (Note: If the term "ghetto booty" is offensive to anyone, I apologize. There's just no other term to describe my butt.)

I cut out bread, pasta, rice, and potatoes. Basically, all of the good stuff. I lowered my calorie intake. I started working out more. I used to run all the time, and I loved it. Now I ride a bike for an hour and my legs feel like they're going to fall off. Regardless, I'm doing pretty good so far, but I now hate watching television. Every time a commercial comes on promoting a new burger at McDonald's or the mouthwatering steaks at Outback, I start to salivate. Literally. I turn into Pavlov's dog. I want food! NOW! I'm tired of chicken and fish.

Maybe I'll win the lottery and then I can hire a hard ass personal trainer to whip me into shape...

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Ignorant Bliss

I was browsing earlier today, as it is my preferred news and information site of choice. I noticed that they had a link for "Ten years of 'Week in Pictures'" (, so of course I had to check it out. I love photography. I love how a good photographer can capture so many emotions and such beauty, freezing it forever to gaze at over and over again. However, once I started clicking through the pictures, there were so many that were of bodies - from war, tsunamis, earthquakes, hurrricanes, tornadoes, etc. I was disappointed. I wanted to see rainbows, exotic animals and scenery, not blood-spattered children wailing over the bodies of their murdered parents.

I began to self-analyze (yet again). The majority of us Americans tend to let ourselves forget about all of the terrible things that go on in other countries. We settle into our oblivious little bubbles of work, sports, church, shopping and television, and we choose to remain ignorant to the awful things that some people (and a lot of children) face every single day. The fact that these horrendous acts are not being done in our backyard make it so much easier to ignore.

Is it selfish to spend so much time worrying about what we're going to wear to our friend's wedding or where we'll meet our coworkers for lunch next week? To be so completely absorbed in all of the superficial things that go on in our lives while children die of starvation because their mothers were killed by rebels in some war? Part of me wants to stay ignorant. I don't like to think about the atrocious things happening to innocent people, especially children. Part of me wishes that I never had to see a news story, view pictures or read an article involving any of those awful things.

I would be perfectly content to just go about my happy little life, unaware of any and all tragedies going on elsewhere. I could blissfully tend to my home, raise my children, keep my man happy. Go to work, have coffee, gossip, shop. Watch movies, go to karaoke and dinner. Now that it's in my head, though, I'm afraid it will not leave. I will dwell on it, think about it, dream about it. It will consume me until I get off my ass and do something, anything to help. What can I do though? I can't very well start adopting orphans from Uganda. I don't have the means or the living space for that.

Maybe I could start a charity or walk a mile or something....