...it's simple really.....eat less, exercise more....
Hold on a minute here.....!
What a crock of bullshit that is.
I'm here to tell you that it doesn't quite work that way.
And, I've got proof....many,many years of eating less and exercising more.
Yeah, I know, I didn't always do it perfectly. And, yeah, I know, it's as much about getting my head in the game as anything. And, sure I get it that I didn't always exercise and I did eat way too much. So, yeah, eating less and exercising more may be the key. But, gimme a break.....
Alright....so I wasn't about to go head to head about that on Saturday night. After all, I was all dressed up and drinking a luscious oakey wine and being oh so sophisticated....
There I was--casually kneeling on the floor--among a small group of normal weight men at a lovely dinner party on Saturday night when the topic of my weight loss surgery came up.
Okay, friends, bring up my weight loss surgery and you'll have to sit back....cause I'm gonna tell you all about it. No, no, not the gory details. But, I'm gonna gush my Lapband love. And, that's just what I did.
After all the oohs and aahs, the well-dressed man to my right--who claimed to have a weight issue--leaned forward as if he and I shared some naughty secret--"it's all about eating less"...he whispered.
"Yes" I nodded.
"And, exercising more," he half smiled.
"Yes," I agreed.
That's when the other well-dressed man stepped in....all 6'7" 200 pounds of him...."that's what it takes to lose weight," he declared as if he just came up with it. "Now, you know that!" he said, patting me on my head---as if he was proud of me....now that I finally--somehow--figured it out.
Silly me....all those years and I just didn't get it until my foray into weight loss surgery.
Yeah, well....leave it to me, it takes having a surgeon put a band on my belly to get me to comprehend. Stupid, uneducated, unenlightened me....
Not so fast there, Mr. Tall-Know-It-All....
So, I'm a chicken shit. I just smiled and touched my size 12 jeans to keep my mind in a happy place--cause really I wanted to head butt him in the balls...afterall, they were level with my head at that point. But,no, I was wearing Size 12 jeans and an amazing new kicky leopard print flowy blouse from H&M and drinking wine....this was no time to tussle. I figured I'd just blog about it....yeah, that'll get him good... all my blog friends channeling cyber hate on Mr. Tall-Know-It-All.
Lucky for him, I could touch my size 12 pants and get my head back to a happy place. And, lucky for him, I could not risk losing one drop of the impeccably delightful, buttery smooth chardonnay I was sipping. Sure, I could have done the head-to-the-ball thing I mentioned or entered into a little verbal sparing on the subject--one I could have easily claimed victory--but out of the corner of my eye, I could see Angela was itching to sneak out for a smoke. That sounded much lovelier. I'd much rather misbehave than fight. I'm a lover and a party smoker...not a fighter and a party brawler.
Lucky boy--I spared him any verbal and physical assault...all the while knowing I'd unleash some cyber hate on him from my keyboard. And, with that, I'd sic my blogger friends him.
Because we all know what Mr. Tall-Know-It-All doesn't seem to get....
Men--they may have you on your knees, but you've got them by the balls.
(and a few other things....)
So, go get him friends.....HIM and all those other Mr. Know-It-Alls....