Tuesday 4 January 2011

Another Year Over, a New One Just Begun

I'd like to say it feels like a war is over, as the song goes, but I have a feeling it's just beginning.

As regular readers know (actually, are there any left?), it's been a season of heavy artillery fire in Beth-land, and if you could insulate yourself by eating, I'd certainly be bulletproof by now.

I'd be a little less upset if my eating were of the seasonal variety – delicious things that come around once a year, and the sort of general holiday overeating in which everyone indulges.

Alas, mine were not. I ate with crazy, indiscriminate abandon. How indiscriminate and crazy? Well, let's just say I discovered in the course of the same pathetic afternoon that neither Trader Joe's lemon bites nor Trader Joe's brown sugar bars actually need to be defrosted (much less microwaved) to eat them. That was also the day I discovered I am wholly capable of eating an entire bag of Trader Joe's dark chocolate covered pretzels, and that – despite thinking I'd ninja-kicked this habit years ago – I easily can be converted to eating peanut butter straight out of the jar.

A very lovely friend wrote that the combination of the anniversary of my mother's death, the recent death of my grandmother, and my intense hatred of my job (at which I work lawyer hours) would be more than enough to make the most stable, non-addictive person act out. Add in the Christmas season, Friend Bearing Chocolate as a houseguest, and it's a seriously explosive mix.

I know this, yet it doesn't make it any easier that I have put on enough weight that I'm wondering whether yoga pants and a huge sweater are an acceptable outfit for work. (Short answer: No. Not even if it were all Chanel.) Today's outfit, for the record, is a fairly shapeless black dress I nearly got rid of pre-move because BN2 liked it so much. I wore it to my grandmother's funeral, partly because she bought it for me but mostly because I didn't want to wear anything I loved lest I be reminded of the funeral every time I wore it. (So much for that plan, since I freakin' live in this dress these days.) I'm not quite I can scare up enough outfits for the week, and I certainly don't have enough time to buy anything.

Sigh. Yesterday and today have been clean-eating days, though, and this morning I even made a Jillian Michaels-approved breakfast (two multi-grain waffles with 2 tsp of almond butter, 2 tsp of raw honey and half a banana – not bad.) Onward and downward, I hope. Though it's shaping up to be one heck of a crazy month.

***

It hasn't been all doom and gloom chez Beth. I will warn you that this part of the post contains, erm, adult content. If you can't handle (or disapprove of) premarital (heck, pre-relationship) activity, do not read further.

Ha. You're all still with me, right?

I've died and woken up in a bad Sex and the City episode. Either that, or the circus.

Years ago, when I first moved to London, I dated a guy so slim I'm sure I couldn't have fit even my arm into the leg of his jeans. So it was a bit of a surprise when I discovered he was extremely well-endowed.

Fast forward to just before Christmas, when I meet a nice six-foot-three blond Jew from the Midwest. He's a former financial reporter who lived in Russia for a while, lost his job at the height of the recession, and decided to go to grad school, which is what he's currently doing. We proceed to spend an evening at the bar round the corner, drinking coffee (him) and tea (me) and playing Ms Pac-man (no, that's not a euphemism for anything – the bar actually had the vintage arcade game, which I adore but haven't seen in years.) I see him again on Christmas Eve, where we proceed to spend another evening being incredibly civilized (he doesn't drink).

I woke up on Christmas morning at 8 am and went to SoulCycle with bands – a crazy spin class with resistance bands hanging from the ceiling, so you're doing cardio and toning at the same time. I felt pretty damn smug about the whole thing until I was told that the members of this particular cult take multiple classes in a row.

Seriously.

I walked back through Tribeca, enjoying the empty city and the prospect of seeing my nephews, if not the five-hour drive to DC to see them. I saw The Fighter with my aunt while waiting for my cousin, who was at the Knicks game. (He was going to our DC chauffeur.) Then we heard about the impending Snowmageddon and the trip was cancelled. At midafternoon on Christmas, there I was with no plans.

What's a nice Jewish girl to do?

I texted an old friend I knew was stuck in town (and had told me to text if I fancied Chinese food, a movie, and sugar cookies). No answer. The farm boy (actually, not really – he's from Detroit) had told me to let him know if my plans changed over the weekend, and they had. So... he ended up inviting himself round. For tea. Which actually was consumed.

Somewhere north of midnight, he busts a move, as my friend from Arkansas loves to say. At a certain point it becomes clear (at least to me) that moving things along any further is a physical impossibility. Seriously. I was bursting with curiosity about exactly how often this sort of thing happens to him, but I managed to contain myself. I also refrained from asking him if he'd seen the Sex and the City episode where, when Samantha is faced with a man of frightening size, she smokes pot.

If I thought he were the love of my life, I'd find the whole situation a lot less funny. But because it's pretty clear that he's a bit of a play-ah with a penchant for half-truths (or at least, not whole truths), I am just amused. Leave it to me to pull someone I can't have a one-night stand with even if I wanted to.

6 comments:

  1. Those damn "mini" lemon bars got me too. Can't really say I've ever been in the other "maxi" situation. That's a bit of a dilemma!

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  2. How funny! I'm glad to hear that you are climbing back from the abyss of too much food. I am trying to do that also and also trying to not buy new clothes.

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  3. Food stuff, work stuff....naaaah!! Got to be the jumbo Jewish lad!!! Hilarious. Shame you didn't ask about previous encounters though - now I'm bursting with curiosity too.

    Chin up chuck...

    Lesley xx

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  4. Chocolate covered pretzels = food crack. No mortal human can resist, so there is no point feeling bad about that. ;)
    Ooo.. sounds like New York is hotting up there. Very Sex in the City. Looking forward to more sexyblogs.

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  5. Oops, is it Sex AND the City. Clearly I am not American.

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  6. OMG, Im' dying laughing over this... poor guy; poor you! Also, your posts from today and yesterday didn't show up until tonight, even though I've checked your blog a few times!

    ANyway... hang in there... this too shall pass... I have faith in you... a therapist might not be a bad idea... to talk through some of the grief about your grandmother and also to help you with some stress-related mindfulness as it pertains to food...

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