strolling with the homies

now that my commute is shortened to a 7 minute stroll, i don’t have that me time. you know, the time to read good books or the paper, stare lingeringly out the bus window, or day dream about how nice it would be not to take the bus. but what i’ve found i do instead is think about one thing constantly all the way from point a to point b. this week, it’s all been the same topic, weight and body image, which has turned this fleeting thought into a nagging hindrance.

yes, i need to lose weight (although don’t most of us, really). i miss the gym and promise to join soon when all these back-to-school meetings die down, and i can take advantage of a membership and not just shell out money to the Jesuits without getting something in return. i’m trying to go to yoga at least once a week, but $13-$14/class gets to be pricey when it’s more than weekly. i’m snacking a lot less, which is a huge plus, and 4 flights of stairs 15-20 times a days will hopefully define my quads, calves, hamstrings, and mental state. but i do need more physical movement. it’s not like in the high school days when i danced every day for 3-5 hours and ate a poptart/diet coke breakfast diet followed by the powerbar/diet coke/fresca lunch plan, or even when i was 5 and ran, galloped, sprinted, and sashayed around on the playground (minus those 2 ½ months where my arm was in a cast thanks to an overeager boy in my class. really, always let girls go first, but not by pushing them.) while downing pb&j. in college, there was the freshman 15, and when i was home, my stepmother pushed metabolife on me for about two years. in fact, she or my dad would stand there religiously and make sure i swallowed the pills. now that i think about it, muy creepy. while ephedra shed pounds quickly, it also made me jittery and sleep-deprived, and i quit. looking back on it, i’m glad. i’d rather be slightly plump and curvaceous but happy than pill-popping and a total wreck. sure, managing my weight will always be a challenge, but i don’t want to get to the point where i can’t enjoy life. because if i can’t, what’s the point?