overeating | BulgingButtons

May 6, 2014
by BulgingButtons 14 Comments

Of Donuts and Shame and a Kick-ass PTA

“They’ll know,” I thought to myself as I took a deep breath. I looked in the mirror, and it’s a good thing I did. A shiny reflection glinted back at me from my blouse. Dammit! I almost walked into my first Weight Watchers meeting in years with a chip of donut glaze prominently displayed above my right breast. That was a close call.

I made the decision to go back to Weight Watchers, but it came at a bad time. You see, it’s Teacher Appreciation Week. You knew that, right? No? That’s ok. For most of my career I didn’t know when it was either. That’s because Teacher Appreciation Week (TAW from now on, because it’s just too many letters to type) was marked by a little card of appreciation from my administrator (sometimes with a pencil or a Hershey Kiss), and a few spammy type emails from various businesses that sell overpriced goods to underpaid teachers. It was easy to miss, especially since it’s not a national holiday, at least not yet.

This year, however, TAW is different. This year I work at a school with a kick-ass PTA who takes their job very seriously. These people are on a mission, and by golly they succeed. They raise funds and provide goods and services to the school like nobody’s business. We needed more Smartboards. Hello PTA. Done. Amazing. They run roller skating parties and dances, they sell gift wrap and cookie dough, and among other things, they give the teachers money for supplies. Unless you’ve taught in a school with no budget and no viable PTA, you can’t appreciate how huge this is.

Well, these generous people took it upon themselves to give our teacher’s lounge a makeover. They brought in two sleek new tables and a new television stand with storage underneath (I’ve never actually seen the television on, maybe it’s there for emergencies). They’ve redone the bulletin boards that were looking a little sad and sloppy. They put up decorative mirrors and a few other wall decorations to jazz things up. And then the real deal… they gave us tons of new, useful stuff! Two coffee makers, two microwaves, a toaster, a three station crockpot, an ice maker and a huge set of dishes and storage containers. Oh, they even brought in new dish scrubbers! It’s incredible.

Naturally they wanted us to use all these gorgeous new appliances and dishes, so they brought in a huge breakfast too. I was good. I ate a yogurt. But only because I had just been to Starbucks and had a pastry and a frappucino. But shhhh, nobody needs to know about that. Or about the donut I had at lunch. Ok. I had two of them. And then another after school. And another. Oh god. Did I really eat four donuts? And a yogurt? And a pastry? And a frappucino? And nachos in honor of Cinco de Mayo (because I’m sure everyone in Mexico eats nachos to commemorate General Zaragoza’s victory over the French at Puebla)? Yep. I did.

I could have thrown in the towel right then and there. I could have deemed myself unworthy of Weight Watchers. I could have taken my donut stuffed, shame filled self home for another round of woe is me, I’m so fat. I could have, but I didn’t. I stopped in the restroom, removed the tell tale donut glaze, and bravely stepped back into that bright yellow haven called Weight Watchers.

Yes, getting on the scale sucked, but so what. I can do it. I’ve done it before. The room was full of people just like me. People who want to shed pounds for whatever reason. People who appreciate the support of others and the accountability of the weekly weigh in. The people there are nice. They really are. And if they judge you for walking in with donut glaze, they generally keep it to themselves, even if they do want to lick your shirt.

November 7, 2013
by BulgingButtons 11 Comments

Living Large at the Silver Paddock

My son plays golf. He came to it entirely on his own, having never stepped on a course in his life before becoming a part of the school’s golf team. He picked up his first club as a freshman, and found that it was something he really enjoyed. Hooray!

I’m so glad that he found something that gives him such pleasure. He studies the game and talks about the game and even occasionally watches the pros or reads articles in golf magazines. Last summer my sweetheart discovered a great golf camp offered by our local university, run by their acclaimed NCAA coaches. It was a stretch financially, but we sent him. He also takes lessons at a local golf “superstore.” What can I say? The boy enjoys golf.

I’m especially glad he found it because it gives him some exercise and is something he can enjoy well past his teenage years. Neither his dad nor I play, and nobody ever suggested he take it up, so it’s something that is entirely his.

Last night his team held their end of the season dinner. As a freshman last year, he failed to mention this event to anyone until the last minute, then didn’t let us know that it was for families as well as players. Grr. This year I got more information out of him, and both his dad and I were able to attend.

The location chosen was a giant warehouse of a restaurant, a buffet type place that I won’t name, but it’s kind of like Silver Paddock. I had never been at this place before, and I will never return. Unless there’s another golf dinner there. Which there probably will be. Ugh.

The teenage boys love this place, which is why the coach selected it. Of course they love it, they are ravenous and there is so much food here, all of it available in whatever quantity one desires. I was hungry too, so I grabbed my plate and made the long trek to the start of the culinary display.

Way way down at the beginning of the line was the salad section. It was virtually deserted, and not terribly inviting with a few bowls of greens and some sad looking shredded carrots and garbanzo beans next to a couple of vats of mayo based concoctions. There were some jello creations too, and a couple of other odd things thrown in for good measure. Frankly, I was a little put off.

I continued down the line, plate still empty, past the soup station. Greasy vats of unknown origin simmered, waiting to be slurped down. Pass. Then I entered the Mexican section. Considering I live in the Southwest, this was pitiful. There were hard taco shells, some seasoned meat, and gooey nacho cheese, the kind you get out of a can. No thanks.

After that was the “Thanksgiving Dinner” portion of the food line. There were meats and side dishes galore, oh, and a tray of carrots. I took some of those, and a small dollop of mashed potatoes. As I continued on I found three varieties of chicken. I added a small chicken breast, bbq style, to my plate.

I hurried past the crowd waiting for leathery looking steaks, on to the deep fried section. There, fried chicken, shrimp, okra, potatoes, hush puppies, fish, and who knows what else waited to jump onto people’s plates. At this point I looked at my plate and decided that I had endured enough of this madness. I headed to my seat to eat.

It was okay. Not awful. Not great. Okay. Person after person around me devoured the food on their plates and popped up to get more. I stayed put.

The festivities concluded and my son and I got in the car to go home. “Did you notice anything about the demographics of that place?” he asked.

“Everyone in there was fat,” I replied, not missing a beat.

I’m glad he noticed. He’s not fat, and of course there were a few people in the restaurant who weren’t, but most of them were. Judging by how packed this place was on a Wednesday night, this restaurant must make a killing on the feeding of fat people. Quantity has definitely won out over quality in this scenario, and people were not only okay with this, they were clamoring for more.

I didn’t even mention the dessert section, which was by far the largest area of the buffet. There was chocolate flowing from some contraption and there were cakes, cookies, pies, brownies, and even cottons candy. Yes, gobs of spun sugar to top off your fat laden all you can eat feeding frenzy. Gross.

The experience reminded me of the buffet scene in Vegas Vacation. I cannot watch that scene without gagging. The movie is a favorite at our house, but that scene is so revolting that I have to leave the room when it plays. Perhaps if more people watched it, the Silver Paddock wouldn’t be so full of fatties.

September 4, 2013
by BulgingButtons 8 Comments

The Devil, Karma, and Frito Pie

You know those little angel and devil guys from the cartoons? The ones that sit on your shoulders? Well I think I have a pair of them hanging around me lately. Not only do I think I have them, I think they’re sparring like crazy. Recently it seems like when I do something positive, there’s something negative right on its heels. Maybe life is usually like that, but I’m just noticing it more, or maybe something is afoot in the cosmos.

Let me give you an example. The other day I did a favor for someone that involved a fair amount of time and effort. It wasn’t difficult, and I didn’t really mind doing it, but it did take a chunk of time that I would have rather spent doing something else. Regardless, I did it and was kind of patting myself on the back about what a nice person I was when I discovered, hours later, that I left my phone behind. Damn. It was nobody’s fault but my own. It took another hour to remedy the situation. Again, it wasn’t difficult, but it took time and effort. It made me think of the phrase, “no good deed goes unpunished.” Which I don’t even believe!

It got me to thinking. Is the universe attempting to achieve some sort of balance, or is it just me being an idiot?

The same has been true for my approach to diet and exercise lately. I’ve been doing my workouts with enthusiasm and gradually increasing their intensity. This is a good thing. I’ve also upped my intake of fresh fruits, and gotten in the habit of taking all my meds when they’re due. I used to forget doses, but I’ve changed the way I accomplish this task, and the new method has proven successful. I know what you’re thinking. So, what’s the problem? Well, it’s just that I can’t quite work out my portion control or say no to the delicious dinners my sweetheart has prepared. Recently we’ve enjoyed meatloaf, a shrimp boil, spaghetti, and fried chicken. It’s all delicious, and I’m truly grateful that he cooks. The thing is, though, that it’s so good that I have trouble limiting my intake of these wonderful foods.

And then there was the Frito Pie.

Have you heard of this? I hadn’t. And no, it’s not made of Frito’s and pie, just so you know. The recipe is simple:

1. Frito’s

2. Canned Chili

3. Cheese

Heat the chili, pour over the Frito’s, and top with as much cheese as you can grate. O. M. G. Yeah, it was that good.

Seriously, this girl does NOT need Frito Pie in her life. At all. Ever. (So says the angel on the shoulder) But, DANG, it was so yummy (the devil is enthusiastically nodding and grinning).

Maybe this whole plus minus thing is all the universe’s way of reaching for balance. I can respect that, but right now I need to shake off that devil and challenge the status quo.