The dryer had stopped. iTunes was blaring. My coffee had gone cold. The phone rang. I was oblivious to it all. I was in "my happy place." Others call it "being in the zone." Do you ever get that? I get it when I'm engrossed in a design project. One that offers a bit of a challenge, a bit of creativity, a bit of fun, and a lot of brain power. When I get in this zone, the whole world fades away and it takes a lot to pull me out. Once, when I was in this zone my son came up to me at 11 at night asking if I was going to be cooking dinner that night or if he should just heat up something. I'm telling you, nothing, not even hunger distracts me. But this morning, while I was happily working away. I was yanked out of my happy place by a Sensa infomercial.
Great. That's all I need! Don't you find it frustrating that all these companies are making money off our desperate need to look like what other people have told us to look like? Maybe I'm angry because I was pulled out of my zone, but I really think I'm angry with my own weight. I've had a weight problem for most of my life. I've been on every diet from Jenny Craig, to Lindora, to Ultrametabolism. I have probably spent thousands on attempts to lose weight. Heck, I even tried some inane Celery Soup Diet until I nearly put myself in the hospital. In the end, it all comes down to me paying a lot of money to be told what I already know. Eat less, exercise more.
That's the solution, easy enough. But nothing works and again I start some silly fad believing the ridiculous claims all over again. So I get mad. Mad at myself for being so stupid, mad at myself for not losing weight, mad at myself for not having the willpower to lose weight, then when I'm tired of being mad at myself I turn in outward. I get mad at Jack LaLane for starting the whole damn health craze; mad at the infomercials; mad at my friends for not telling me how bad I look. I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore! So, I quit. I decide there's nothing I can do and forget about it. Until, someone takes a picture of me; my mother-in-law asks how my diet's coming; I catch a glimpse of myself in a full-length mirror or reflection in a window; and the search for a solution begins all over again.
Showing posts with label Jenny Craig. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jenny Craig. Show all posts
Sunday, September 18, 2011
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Showing posts with label Jenny Craig. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jenny Craig. Show all posts
Will a Major University Please Stand Up?
The dryer had stopped. iTunes was blaring. My coffee had gone cold. The phone rang. I was oblivious to it all. I was in "my happy place." Others call it "being in the zone." Do you ever get that? I get it when I'm engrossed in a design project. One that offers a bit of a challenge, a bit of creativity, a bit of fun, and a lot of brain power. When I get in this zone, the whole world fades away and it takes a lot to pull me out. Once, when I was in this zone my son came up to me at 11 at night asking if I was going to be cooking dinner that night or if he should just heat up something. I'm telling you, nothing, not even hunger distracts me. But this morning, while I was happily working away. I was yanked out of my happy place by a Sensa infomercial.
Great. That's all I need! Don't you find it frustrating that all these companies are making money off our desperate need to look like what other people have told us to look like? Maybe I'm angry because I was pulled out of my zone, but I really think I'm angry with my own weight. I've had a weight problem for most of my life. I've been on every diet from Jenny Craig, to Lindora, to Ultrametabolism. I have probably spent thousands on attempts to lose weight. Heck, I even tried some inane Celery Soup Diet until I nearly put myself in the hospital. In the end, it all comes down to me paying a lot of money to be told what I already know. Eat less, exercise more.
That's the solution, easy enough. But nothing works and again I start some silly fad believing the ridiculous claims all over again. So I get mad. Mad at myself for being so stupid, mad at myself for not losing weight, mad at myself for not having the willpower to lose weight, then when I'm tired of being mad at myself I turn in outward. I get mad at Jack LaLane for starting the whole damn health craze; mad at the infomercials; mad at my friends for not telling me how bad I look. I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore! So, I quit. I decide there's nothing I can do and forget about it. Until, someone takes a picture of me; my mother-in-law asks how my diet's coming; I catch a glimpse of myself in a full-length mirror or reflection in a window; and the search for a solution begins all over again.
Great. That's all I need! Don't you find it frustrating that all these companies are making money off our desperate need to look like what other people have told us to look like? Maybe I'm angry because I was pulled out of my zone, but I really think I'm angry with my own weight. I've had a weight problem for most of my life. I've been on every diet from Jenny Craig, to Lindora, to Ultrametabolism. I have probably spent thousands on attempts to lose weight. Heck, I even tried some inane Celery Soup Diet until I nearly put myself in the hospital. In the end, it all comes down to me paying a lot of money to be told what I already know. Eat less, exercise more.
That's the solution, easy enough. But nothing works and again I start some silly fad believing the ridiculous claims all over again. So I get mad. Mad at myself for being so stupid, mad at myself for not losing weight, mad at myself for not having the willpower to lose weight, then when I'm tired of being mad at myself I turn in outward. I get mad at Jack LaLane for starting the whole damn health craze; mad at the infomercials; mad at my friends for not telling me how bad I look. I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore! So, I quit. I decide there's nothing I can do and forget about it. Until, someone takes a picture of me; my mother-in-law asks how my diet's coming; I catch a glimpse of myself in a full-length mirror or reflection in a window; and the search for a solution begins all over again.
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