About Me

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Haifa, Israel
Divorced and independent and still looking for Mr. Right in the back of the fridge.

Thursday, October 22, 2015

A Large Salad Please

Counting down to the 11th of November, the day I go under the knife, the most drastic exclamation that I have got to embrace eating to live instead of living to eat. 

I will look forward to my croutons on a salad instead of my ice cream in a ladle.

Gastric sleeve surgery will give me the kick start I am looking for to lose weight. 

I leave the quantifying of weight loss to the skinny people. I expect to shed at least the equivalent of a 4th grader in the first few months. 

This is how much weight I eventually want to lose:

  1. I can cross my legs under a table.
  2. I can throw on a pair of jeans.
  3. I don't dread living rooms with deep cushiony sofas.
  4. I hope to run into an ex boyfriend.
  5. I can wear panty hose more than once.
  6. I can wear horizontal stripes (!)
  7. I don't break beach chairs.
  8. I wear a belt as an accessory.
  9. I wear clunky shoes and still look thin.
  10. My butt crack does not contine up my back.
And so on and so forth. 

Hmmm. Flesh out (pun intended) the story behind each  of the above and I've got a damn good best seller on my hands....

For now, this is me not eating the brownies my daughter smelled up the kitchen with.

I'll let you know if they survive the night. 

Monday, October 12, 2015

"Houston, We Have a Problem" or Chapter 3 in my Journey to Lose Weight


October 4th 2015, 12:49. 
Houston, come in. We have a problem.

111.10 kilos buck naked. Maximum payload exceded. Requesting go-ahead for emergency protocol.

*** Copy, Voyager. Commence emergency protocol***

Roger, Houston. Preparations commencing to shed excess. Commencing ice cream drain-off.

***Roger, Voyager. Rocky Road relocated to Milky Way. Continue. Over***

Copy. Commencing Carb ejection. 

***Copy, Voyager. Got that on radar. Re-directing carbs to training camps for safe use. Over.***

Roger, Houston. Emergency Protocol completed. Ice Cream and Carbs ejected. Taking over controls. Overriding auto-pilot. 

***Negative on that Voyager. ***

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, Houston.Repeat. ice cream and carbs ejected, we can handle it from here. Relinquish controls. Over.

***Negative. Voyager. You can't handle shit. One minute without ice cream and carbs and you think you are safe. Confirm final weight and will consider relinquishing the vessel to your control. Over"

Shit, Houston. Over.

***Houston will continue monitoring your payload, Voyager. Over and Out."

Affirmative Houston. Thanks for watching my back. Over and Out.

I wish I had a dozen thin tied men watching monitors 24/7, protecting me from myself.

For lack of that, I have a doctor who is about to cut away part of my stomach and a team of cheer leaders rooting for my victory over temptation. 

Maybe they will all be proud of me and eventually I will be proud of myself. 

Thursday, September 24, 2015

"I Bought a Scale" - or Chapter 2 in My Journey to Lose Weight


Swing band hour on the radio. Muted trumpets and a nice breeze  as evening turns to night. Imagine my surroundings in black and white, and it's almost enough to put me in a good mood, certainly a melancholy one (baby). Walk into a pleasant apartment after 12 hours at work and I almost wished I still smoked. I would open a bottle of wine but would have to throw it out before I had any one else to share it with. I briefly consider polishing off the bottle myself but know this atmosphere won't keep for too long

I'm getting hungry and I know there is a frozen pizza in the freezer. Shit. There goes the mood. 

In that flitting moment when I remember the pizza, my own personal Romantic Comedy morphs into a B Horror movie.  

In the former, I live in the upper east side and am bored, seeking a simpler life in Vermont. In the latter, I'm changing into a boll wevil frantically seeking a cotton plantation in the bronx.

Back to reality and I am congratulating myself for buying a scale.
When I take it out of the car kudos will really be in order.

I have to wean myself off sweets and carbonated beverages prior to my gastric sleeve surgery. 

I will. I always rise to the occasion, no matter how far down I start. 

Pretty soon my hugs will have to come from people instead of food.

But for now a pizza yearns for attention.