4.12.20
There’s a scene in The Big Chill where Jeff Goldblum (at his oiliest and least appealing, so you KNOW I’m going to find a hotter photo than THAT for this post) (oh, damn – found it!) says…
“Don’t knock rationalization; where would we be without it? I don’t know anyone who could get through the day without two or three juicy rationalizations.”
That sounds like the purest, high-grade truth to me today. I spend most of my psychic energy fighting a demon – the demon of pure cane sugar, who lives in the Everglades and chortles fiendishly while it breeds its crystalline children, sending them out into the world to ruin good intentions and metabolize into fat and plump up the pillows so that cancer – when and if it arrives – will find the accommodations to its liking.
What – you think waging war against Demon Sugar doesn’t require MASSIVE amounts of emotional force? Then you don’t have a problem with sugar.
Because THE DEMON IS EVERYWHERE, and he tempts you (well, he tempts me) pretty much all the damned time.
If there are cookies in the house – eat the cookies. Might as well. Then they’ll be gone, and I won’t be tempted.
Same for any chocolate.
Double for any ice cream. ANY ice cream. Last night I ate an entire container of Snickerdoodle ice cream from Artie’s (they’re doing curbside take-out; I go there a LOT). I didn’t even like it – it’s way better at the restaurant with the real whipped cream and the satin-rich dark chocolate sauce. But I ate it anyway. Manfully. Like I was performing a service to society.
Why?
Because SUGAR IS IN THE ASCENDENCY.
So why do I entitle my blog post with the word “proud?”
Because I AM proud. I’m pounding down cup after cup of hot tea (because I put in so much sugar that it’s more like a cup of sludge) – but I’m also ripped. Wait – that deserves all caps.
I AM RIPPED.
I’ve been taking the online classes at Body Dynamics. (You can, too – we can sweat and bitch together. Bodydynamicsinc.com will get you there.) I’m taking two group classes each week followed by two stretch classes, and two one-on-one sessions with my glorious trainers, Barbara and Chip. Six hours set aside so smart people can guide me through helping my body get stronger. I’ve done this for a few weeks now…
…and sweet pea, you’re lucky we’re all in quarantine right now because I’m in the mental place where I’d be walking up to strangers on the street and demanding that they poke my belly. “Feel that! Feel those muscles! And around to the side – see? Like rocks!”
The backs of my thighs. Even the long-dormant and inert “muscles” under all the sit-down padding are beginning to flex with awakening interest.
I’m iced with a generous layer of fluff… but under that? Man, I’ll kick your BUTT. I am SO STRONG. And that feels pretty freaking good!
So – yes. I’m rationalizing when I fall to my knees and worship the sugar demon. Yes, I’d sacrifice a goat and read its entrails if it meant I’d get some toffee chip cookies out of it. Yes, I did write “buy more sugar” on the shopping list today. (Just a few weeks ago I was proud that I wasn’t rolling in the sugar bowl like a pig in a wallow and now look at me. Sigh.)
But I’m also one tall, plump, walking muscle. And I’m proud of that.
Let’s see. Can I get this back to Jeff Goldblum? Oh, sure. Look who’s been working out. Nice muscles, young Jeff Goldblum!
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