Here are some “conditions” that can be made less offensive by making small changes in your life:
Tummy Flare (or The “shroom,” also known as Muffin Top) – this is when your stomach fat bulges over your too-snug waistband, giving the effect of giant toadstool or moist blueberry muffin from the local bakery. To counter this effect, I recommend Mom Jeans with a hint of spandex. No one will ever know that your waistband sits just under your boobs if you don’t tuck your shirt in. I haven’t tucked since ’89 and with today’s versatile fashion, who needs it? Tunics, fitted work shirts, and cardigan sweaters are your friends.
Butt Spread – this is similar to the Muffin Top except that it’s your ass bulging over the side of a small, uncomfortable auditorium chair (or…god forbid…a tiny round wooden bar stool). Here is another problem solved by having the right cotton-to-spandex ratio in one’s trousers. A perfect balance means that your butt won’t droop inches below the chair edge when you sit down, and it won’t look like two bulldogs fighting in a sack when you are standing.
Caterpillar Eyes (Eye Fat ) – I have two solutions for this. First, wear glasses. Gone are the days when you hide your ugly, plate-sized glasses in a box under the bed because being called Four-Eyes by the cutest boy in 2nd grade is even more humiliating than the time you puked cottage cheese, pineapple, and bologna in front of half the school back in kindergarten. In today’s world, glasses are an accessory and can compliment many outfits. Thick black frames are fashionable and also camouflage your eye bags nicely. Second, be tall or wear high heels. Your bags look WAAAY worse when viewed from above so try to be taller than everyone else. Don’t believe me? Go look at yourself in the mirror. Tilt your head back as if being looked at from below. Bags-Be-Gone. Now tilt your head forward as if you are being looked at from above. OH DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN, WHAT THE HELL ARE THOSE?!?!? See what I mean? Short people, I am sorry. You are hosed.
Back Fat – A well-fitting bra and Spanks go a long way. And steer clear of tight shirts.
Arm Flap - there is no solution for flabby upper arms. None. Just take my advice, don’t ever go sleeveless. If your upper arms keep moving long after the wind dies down, then long sleeves are your friend.
Wrinkled Cleavage – there is nothing more disgusting than leathery, wrinkled boob cleavage. So I use lots of sunscreen and try to buy bras that separate the breasts so much that it almost looks like I have grapefruits growing out of my arm pits. It’s the only way, ladies, ESPECIALLY if you are of the menopausal age because nothing turns off a hot pool boy more than fat, dry, leathery cleavage. Treat those girls like vampires, don’t let them come out in the light of day.
So back to the contest. When last we spoke it was Saturday night. Today – Tuesday – is the official one-week mark in the Biggest Loser competition. In spite of the paralyzing fear of humiliation that I would soon be facing at the weekly weigh-in, I cannot say that I aced it for the remainder of the weekend. On Sunday I did not work out at all. I had planned on going to the Y around noon but my husband Sean totally shamed me into going out to lunch at Buffalo BBQ Wings with him and my stepsons instead. Sean claims that it was my idea, but I have a memory like a steel trap and can recall the most minute detail. Here is the ridiculous story he is telling:
Sean: Would you mind picking something up for the boys for lunch while you are at Meijers?
Beth: Why don’t we take them out for lunch? We haven’t been to Finleys in a while? [salivating]
Sean: That’s true. Or Buffalo BBQ Wings…[winking]
Beth: [drooling] Ooh, yeah! They won’t be as busy either, you know the church crowd will all be at Finleys!
Sean: Plus, boneless chicken wings shouldn't be too bad for your Biggest Loser thing.
Beth: [pupils dilated with rage] F*CK THE BIGGEST LOSER "THING," I AM HUNGRY ENOUGH TO EAT THE ASS-END OUT OF A RAG DOLL, MOTHER F*CKER!!!!!!
Such a grotesque lie. This is totally NOT how it happened, not even close. I like how he fabricates that it was MY idea, when I know for a fact that I had planned on getting a healthy vegetable salad for my lunch at Meijers after my intense workout at the Y. I will now take this opportunity to tell you the REAL story:
Beth: Love of my life, do you need me to bring back something to fix my precious stepsons for lunch? I will be heading to Meijers after my intense cardio workout.
Sean: [incredulous] Working out AGAIN???? You just went yesterday! The boys really wanted to go out to eat and they said it just wouldn’t be the same without you.
Beth: Oh..um….well, sweetie….It’s just that, well, I have the Biggest Loser weigh in on Tuesday and I have to be there for my team…
Sean: Your TEAM? I thought WE were your team! [lowers head and shakes side to side]
Beth: Er…okay, I’ll go to lunch. If it means so much to you and the boys, I’ll make the sacrifice.
I did make the sacrifice because I love my family. And I got the least offensive thing on the menu, which was the fish and chips. Fish, because it’s protein – and protein is good for you. And for the ‘chips’ I substituted onion rings, because Vidalias dipped in thick batter are slightly more of a vegetable than fries.
This morning I completed my Week 2 weigh-in with much less fanfare than Week 1. It almost didn’t happen. As of bedtime last night, I honestly wasn’t sure if I was going to go through with it or chicken out and wait until the back-up weigh-in on Thursday. After binging on salty pretzels and Keebler Club Crackers (they are so buttery!), I knew I would face at LEAST a 4-lb water retention penalty. But…I also am PMS’ing and by Thursday I will be fully checked into the Red Roof In (or, riding the cotton pony, as they say). And that would mean not only a whopping 6-lb water retention weight gain, but in that hormonal state, I am not sure I could psychologically handle the shame at the scale.
So when I got up this morning I decided I would just do it and get it over with. Getting dressed was nothing short of traumatic. Are these pants heavier than the ones I wore last Tuesday? Should I even bother with jewelry? Will chunky earrings take me over the edge? THESE FREAKIN’ SOCKS ARE TOO THICK! No hair accessories, for the love of god! What’s the lightest sweater I own? After what seemed like hours, finally I settled on the perfect weigh-in outfit.
I held off on breakfast (4-lb savings), dropped off the dogs at daycare, shed my computer and purse at my work desk, then hurried down to the Scale o’ Shame. Access card removed from neck (1-lb saved), shoes off (3 lbs), lip gloss out of pocket (1/2 lb), and onto the scale I went. Sandy wrote down the numbers, handed me my recipe card for the week, and I was on my way in a matter of seconds.
I walked away, numb. In shock. Total disbelief.
I LOST TWO WHOLE POUNDS, BABY! WHOOOOOT! READ ‘EM & WEEP!
I have a whole week until the next time, can I reward myself tonight with an entire cheesecake? PLEASE???? Damn….
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