I was doing okay. Alternating yoga with walking around the lake by our place. Lots of salads and whole grains. And then IT happened. Our home was invaded by a jar of Nutella. Bought with the good intentions of treating a guest to her favorite breakfast spread, the sweet hazelnut concoction quickly became a bad nightmare. Now, I've never been one to harbor a chocolate addiction and I've had Nutella on several past occasions without incurring disastrous results but there was something different about this jar. This jar talked!
Every single time I went into the kitchen it would start in on me. "Alexia, why are you ignoring me? I miss you. I won't hurt you - I promise. If you skip the bread it's really not that many calories. Just one spoonful. A small spoonful. Pleeeeez?" I was defenseless against this thing. I've had a spoon dangling out of my mouth ever since.
Anyway, you know how when you make fun of someone mercilessly it always comes back to bite you in the butt? Well, my friend KMOH is an incredibly talented creative person, a small business entrepreneur and, despite the fact that she favors wearing house slippers to NY photo shoots during blizzard weather, I have a great deal of respect for her. Until the day she pulled out the pedometer.
Looking to get rid of a few extra pounds, she'd committed to walking 10,000 steps everyday. All well and good. But when every trip to the bathroom was followed with a step count "28 there and 30 back. I think the extra two steps were to the sink," it wasn't long before we were mocking her endlessly. "I need to get a refill on my coffee. If I take two giant steps and three baby steps does that count as 7 regular steps?" Or, "If I sprain my ankle and I'm on crutches, do I get to count three steps for every one?" You get the idea.
Well, guess who bought a pedometer? Yup. But in fairness to me, the last time I saw KMOH she looked awesome so I figured maybe there was something to it. Sign me up for the 10,000 step program. And may God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change - especially if it's my waistline. I finally sat down to program the pedometer and all was going well. You have to put in your height, weight, age, etc. All standard, no surprises. Then I got to the body fat analyzer. You have to hold your thumbs at contact points on the pedometer and then it assigns an icon to your profile.
There are five icons ranging from a stick figure up to a big round blob. I'm thinking I'm going to hit icon 3 which is metz a metz. Ummm no. Up pops the little fatso icon. I'm thinking are you kidding me? It's not that bad. Is it?? Curses on Nutella and all gooey sugar substances everywhere. Oh, and while I'm at it, those warm Bavarian pretzels too.
I quickly scan the directions again. It says to get better results I should lick my thumb pads before making contact with the analyzer. I stick both thumbs in my mouth entirely and quickly go to the loo because it never hurts to get rid of a little water weight. Back from the bathroom (12 steps in case you were wondering) and now with fully wet hands, I throw back my shoulders, hold my breath and try again. No luck. I am icon five. I am Beachball Pinhead.
I am so depressed. The only thing that can possibly make me feel better is... Wait did you hear that? There it is again. Louder this time. Can you not hear that??
As soon as I get the spoon out of my mouth, I'll go for a lap around the lake. Okay, okay four laps. That's 9,865 steps in case you were wondering.