a life without cereal

A couple weeks ago, I tried on a couple pairs of work pants that I wore religiously last year, but that have been taking a hiatus as now my daily work attire consists mainly of housepants. I could barely button them. Once on, my butt looked like a sausage ready to bust from its casing, and I was close to playing "cover the button" when I sat down.

Whoops. So it looks like my suspicions were confirmed: I'd put on a couple pounds. Maybe it was the Port Royals and endless corn tortillas of Honduras or the working from home where my desk was within reach of the refrigerator. Either way, I was faced with the reality that either I slim down a bit or, assuming I ever get an office job, I buy all new pants. And considering the mounting bills, the latter really isn't an option.

Enter the South Beach Diet. I know, I know. I don't really like it either. I agree that it really isn't healthy to deprive yourself of certain healthy foods, and the rapid rate of weight loss can be alarming. I did it a couple years ago, and I think I lost some eight pounds in the two week ball-busting carb-free hell of Phase One. In all, I got down to what I now see was a completely unreasonable and unhealthy weight for me, but I thrived on the "you look so skinny" comments and had become completely obsessed with being thin.

At one point when I was home for Christmas, my friend pulled out a scale, brought it into her living room and made me stand on it. She said if I didn't reach a certain weight, we were going to have words, and I barely scraped by. Sadly, I was excited that my friends thought I was too skinny.

But the more level-headed Sara knows that balanced eating, regular exercise and moderation are really the best way to lose weight and stay healthy. (Plus, I am once again affirmed that my sensitive digestive track just can't handle the brutal completely-carbless diet.)

I think nearly every woman has some kind of body image issues or insecurities, whether it be for her weight or breast size or complexion - you name it. I was always a chubby kid growing up and I watched my mother struggle with her weight. I was convinced being fat was in my genes, so I have obsessed with keeping one step ahead of the inevitable. More and more, however, I am beginning to think maybe it was my poor eating habits that brought on the chub, and I am not entirely doomed.

Either way, I recognize I have a somewhat warped image. I still look in the mirror and see someone who could stand to lose some weight, and I imagine my friends would describe me as their tall, kind of chubby friend Sara.

Woah this is getting deep. What I am trying to get at is that in the end, I have to find a way to love the body I am given and all that self acceptance crap.

In the meantime, I gotta fit into my damn pants. And, I am not prepared to go up a size or tip past that certain weight on the scale. So I did the South Beach Diet. I got through most of the first two weeks, stopping two days early out of boredom with eggs, a longing for fiber-rich cereal and a digestive track in confused knots. I had also noticed my energy level was down, but the decreasing numbers on the scale kept me going. In all, I think I lost maybe four or five pounds (not as much as last time, but I think I drank a lot more beer this time, a luxury I am not prepared to give up), and I just slid comfortably back into my Editor pants.

This morning, I had the most delicious bowl of Cheerios ever, topped with a half of a banana. I also decided that although the diet probably fueled some of my weight issues and that life is too short to not eat cereal, it did the trick and got me back on track to being healthy and into my pants.