Eating Like a Lady

It's almost the New Year, and ya'll know what that means.  Time to turn over a new leaf and swear up and down that I'm going to do all of the things that I was supposed to do this year.  Namely, that means taking care of my body. 

I used to be so good about this.  Anal retentive in fact.  In early college, my glory days, I worked out like a maniac and got myself down to a size THREE.  I'll repeat that for posterity.  A SIZE THREE.  And guess how many pictures I have of that period of my life.  O.  Because my mother never got that film developed, and who knows where it is now. 

Eventually, time to work out grew thinner (no pun intended), and I still maintained a decent exercise and eating routine, but when I started working, the spread began.  And then when I started grad school it got almost unmanageable. 

So when I was flipping through some old photos and ran across this one, I almost spit out my coffee. 

This photo was taken almost four years ago, and this was not the thinnest I've ever been, but when I saw it, my jaw hit the floor.  I cannot believe that I was ever this person, and then I realized that I need to make more of an effort towards physical health not only for personal reasons but also so that when Justin and I eventually do start a family, my body will be a temple of health for a baby. 

So I've been thinking about eating habits and observing the plates of women around me, and a thought struck me.  I need to get back to eating like a lady.  Avoiding portions intended for lumberjacks or construction workers.  Asking myself as I load my plate, "Would a LADY eat this?  Would a LADY eat this MUCH of this?" 

This may seem horribly stereotypical to envision a delicate Southern Belle complete with hat and gloves, but it just may be the ticket to retrieving my body from the dumpster to which I've relegated it.  

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In Which I Ride a Freight Train to Hell

I'm worried that any type of following I may have gathered has drifted off into the great unknown. 

It's that time of year, folks, and for the past month, I've found myself choking on insane amounts of paper, whether that be in terms of grading or in grad school work.  Even though the end is in sight and the light at the proverbial end of the tunnel looms, this train just isn't moving quickly enough for my tastes.

I'm certain that once the semester has reached its end and I have time to reflect on my year, I'll have much to give thanks for, but for the moment, I want to bury my head in the sand and either scream or sleep for the next week and a half. 

I graded ten essays tonight to bring today's grand total to fifteen.  I should feel proud, but when I consider that I have two more class sets of analytical essays, a class set of definition essays, a class set of definition essay timed writings, a class set of personal narratives, three class sets of poetry anthology projects, one class set of a cumulative portfolio, and four sets of final exams to grade, my brain gives this weird little flutter, and I begin to wonder if I've just had a slight anuerism. 

I'm having nightmares about human-sized green ink pens chasing me through a cemetery in which staplers and calculators burst through cracked earth in some type of zombie blossoming.  I wish I was kidding. 

This is the part where I praise my wonderful husband for the vast amounts of help he has given me in the past three weeks as I've ran around the house babbling about where I left that one sheet of paper with the marks on it?  You know... the one with the red ink that says something about the due date of a manuscript?  To which he has cleaned house, helped me retrieve and wrap a bridal shower gift, helped me clean out my car, and brought me lunch.  So sweetie, thank you for the Subway and the dishes. 

Needless to say, my own work has fallen to the wayside, and now I have two short stories floating in my head (one of which is halfway finished) and the novel to complete as well.  I'm wondering exactly how much writing one can fit into a week and a half long period.  I can imagine that it's not enough. 

In incredibly exciting news, my article, which was published in Free Inquiry magazine is out!  You can read it here.  Wow.  That's my name up there. 

And on a final note, a rant towards Atlanta.  My dear city, YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE CULTURALLY RELEVANT!! YOU KNOW.... HIP AND ALL THAT JAZZ!!  HOW IS IT REMOTELY POSSIBLE THAT YOU ARE NOT INCLUDED IN THE LINE UP FOR LIMITED RELEASE FILMS THAT I'M DYING TO SEE????  Could we do something about that? 



Missed you guys.  Promise I'll be better.  Promise.

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