When Stomachs Attack

So after finally accepting that I have to exercise to keep expansion at bay, I recently asked one of my fittest friends to help me tweak my diet.

I thought I was doing pretty well until I tracked my food for two weeks and crunched the numbers. The truth was that my nutrition was so-so during the week, and occasionally terrible on the weekend. And after seeing my metabolism measurement in black-and-white (Surprise! It's slow!), it was crystal clear that exercise alone was not going to get me where I wanted to be.

Anyway, my friend H. graciously held my hand through the process of figuring out what and how much I should be eating. I don't tell H. anything diet or fitness related unless I plan to follow through, so once I asked for her help, I knew I was committing. My stomach, which called in a huff after my workout today, isn't taking it so well. The exchange went something like this.

Stomach: "Um, what are you doing?"

Me: "What do you mean?"

S: "You know what I'm talking about. Breakfast was some unsweetened oatmeal with cranberries, cinnamon and flax. Lunch was nothing but a big salad! Granted, there were some bells and whistles like feta cheese, strawberries and a little chicken, but that snack was bullshit. An apple and some string cheese?"

M: "Well, I'm trying to do things a little differently around here. We've probably gotten as far as we're going on exercise alone. It's time to shake up the program if we're going to make more progress."

S: "We? I wasn't consulted."

M: "Yeah. About that ..."

S: "Maybe I was happy with things the way they were. It's not like we were exactly getting fried fish and cheese grits down here on a regular basis. You already cut off the supply of sweet iced tea and flavored coffee drinks. Yeah, I noticed. Did you have to take my morning cheese toast away, too?"

M: "I know it sucks right now, but we'll get through this. I need you to understand: We're almost 40, and my metabolism was never that high to begin with. I want to be able to wear sleeveless dresses this summer, like Michelle Obama."

S: "Who?"

M: "OK, now you're just being ridiculous."

S: "Go screw yourself." (dial tone)

Sigh.