How much is this weight?
I was on hold with the IRS the other day and this recording kept going, Thank you for your patience. Please do not hang up. If you hang up now, youre only going to increase your wait.What I heard was, Youre only going to increase your weight.Im a little touchy, you could say, about my weight at the moment. I was doing so well for a while there, making proclamations like, Now that Im doing so much yoga, I dont even have to worry about my diet anymore, with total confidence over a chicken sandwich and fries.Dont be ridiculous: Of course it caught up to me, just like my boss at the yoga studio said it would.I had bragged to her about how great I felt, despite all the indulging I did over the holidays. You probably wont see it until next week, is all yoga boss said.Granted, I am comparing myself to the women in the yoga studio, who all seem to be at least 5-foot-9 with legs-up-to-there. Theres this one posture, floor bow, where you lie on your stomach and grab your feet from behind and lift them over your head, doing a belly-down backward bend. All these long-limbed ladies have their feet in the air so high over their heads they look like those long-legged spiders, the ones with stick legs that still move when you pull them off their bodies (you know they kind I mean). My little toes barely peek up over my head at all.At least thats what I thought was the problem comparing myself to the Rockettes who come to the yoga studio.Then I went on a hut trip last weekend with 12 people who all were better than I at the whole trudging-through-the-snow-with-a-heavy-backpack thing. From go, I knew I was going to be toast. My heart immediately jumped into my throat and stayed there, pounding so hard it hurt my ears. My legs ached, I was hungry from the start and my snowshoes kept falling off on account of my little pig feet.The power couple charged ahead immediately you know the type Im talking about those happy couples who do everything together because the girl is tough enough to keep up with the guy. Hes made sure shes well-equipped and well-prepared because thats what they do in this kind of stuff. All the time. Every weekend. While Im sitting at Zanes drinking Fat Tire on tap, theyre skinning up this or that with a backpack full of rocks and then going home so she can cook dinner, and he can fiddle with getting her equipment more dialed in while he watches the History Channel on TV.Then there were what I like to call the Off-The-Couch-Athletes, my friends who I was with when we were doing the bad stuff, my friends who also have to rent their equipment, my friends who are lift-riders and late-sleepers and partiers. And still, they charge ahead along with the power couple like theyve been doing this every day of their drug-using, alcohol-abusing lives.Then there were the telemark chicks those girls who are the preppies of the ski world, the girls with their conservative-but-chic techno gear from Marmot and Patagonia and Mountainsmith. The girls who let their hair air-dry and wear no makeup and have perfect noses and freckles and look like they just jumped off the cover of an LL Bean catalog. The girls have long, thin, legs and narrow hips and no body fat even though their pockets are stuffed with chocolate bars and bags of sugary granola.Then theres little old me, in the back of the pack so far off the back that there is no pack at all, just me. The only time I see the others is when they stop for lunch and are ready to go as soon as I arrive, 20 minutes behind them.When I arrive, they say things like, Is your equipment working okay? and Youre totally bonking. You can see it in your eyes. You need to eat something.It doesnt help that Im in the middle of a seven day detox program that basically entails taking a bunch of herbal supplements, quitting coffee and eating mostly fruits and vegetables and brown rice. So the truth is, I am bonking and I havent eaten enough and Im weighted down with this mobile health food store thats in my backpack, including a Ziplock bag of cooked brown rice, a box of organic butternut squash soup and a baked yam. All that, so I can miss out on baked brie and beef stew and birthday cake and wine, the stuff that makes being on a hut trip so much fun.Im doing all that, of course, not only because I want to rid my system of new years eve toxins, but also because I want to shed a few pounds before I go to Hawaii next week (yesssss!).Thats what Im thinking as I drag my sorry ass up the trail, that maybe Im at least burning fat, and thats why I feel so bad, that by the time I get home Im going to be lighter and stronger, that maybe one day Ill be just like everyone else.I get home the next day exhausted, sore, and sleep deprived after a 6:30 a.m. departure in time to find that my weight hasnt budged a pound. Despite all my efforts to stay strong and fit, Im weak and well, sort of fat.Maybe my ideal will catch up to me eventually if I just keep pushing on, one little foot in front of the other, a penguin following a herd of gazelles.If that day ever comes Im sure itll be worth the weight.The Princess hasnt yet resorted to plastic surgery. Send your words of encouragement firstname.lastname@example.org.
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