On Being in Shape and Parents who Feed you Too Much

Here’s the thing; I’m not in shape. I dream of being in the shape I was back when I took fitness classes at my community college with a coach who was a former Olympic competitor. She’d do the kind of thing where if she saw you weren’t running around the track, she’d make you do an extra two laps on top of everything you were already supposed to do, all while yelling at you in this awesome English-African-Jamaican hybrid accent. It was horrible and amazing at the same time. I’ve never felt that strong since despite working out on my own.. which, let’s be honest, involves a lot of laying on the floor and staring at my 10 pound weights until it’s time to shower and go to work.

But anyways, I like food. I go through different phases throughout the year depending on my stress level and weight. When I stress out I eat like there’s no tomorrow, pretty much whatever the hell I feel like. The most disgusting thing I ever did to my body was about six months ago during finals; I bought myself a vanilla latte, and not one, but TWO Wetzel’s Pretzels. That was really the lowest of the low I think. After a few months of this type of stress eating I realize that I’m in really horrible shape and I feel shitty about myself. This is usually the time when I decide I will diet and exercise. This also lasts for a little while until I start feeling comfortable and good about myself, so I get back into eating delicious carb loaded food because I think I can get away with it. And the cycle pretty much never ends and I’m never really happy with myself. It’s definitely a work in progress.

 

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This is literally every day when I’m home. I think they might have some attachment issues. 

 

Anyways, I’m currently in “I want to be in shape and eat healthy” mode. The problem is that I’m visiting my parents, who show love by stuffing amazing home made foods that I still don’t know how to make on my own down my throat. Well, they don’t force me to eat any of it – but how the hell do you resist real home-made fresh baked bread in the morning? I literally woke up this morning and my mother was baking bread and making tiramisu. TIRA-freaking-MISU. Last time I was here she was baking I don’t even know what high fat high calorie deliciousness, and my father came home from my favorite bakery with ECLAIRS and CROISSANTS in a beautiful pink cardboard box… And I’m supposed to exercise self control here? Could you do it!? I didn’t think so.

 

A few more weeks and I’ll be back in LA surviving on a struggling college student diet. That always works. 

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