Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Prompt: This week we’d like you to write a memoir piece about an unfulfilled goal or a broken resolution, beginning with the words, “I knew what I wanted”. If this sucks, I apologize. I am extremely tired and fighting off a migraine.
I knew what I wanted. I wanted to lose thirty pounds. I was going on this diet, I was going to exercise, and dammit, that lard around my stomach was just going to melt off in the face of my determination. I would be bikini ready by May. I didn't really see a problem; the weight would just fall off once I started exercising. This would be so EASY!
I had willpower.
The diet I was on was very restricted, the portions tiny. I felt as though I were in the desert, eating a mirage of food, while my tummy did the rumbly thing, usually in the middle of class. I didn't want to disturb my peers and upset my professors. It was for the benefit of others that I brought a candy bar to snack on; not everyone is able to focus on their studies with the rumble of empty stomachs rolling about.
The exercise involved running. Lots and Lots of running. My breath burned a hole in my chest in order to allow a secondary access point to fill up my lungs with air. My kneecaps grinding together with every step. It was a gruelingly strenuous three flights of stairs. I had to drink a gallon of Gatorade to get my electrolytes recharged. Who knew that Gatorade and KitKat bars tasted so well together?
After all that work, I needed to come home and relax with the television, closing my eyes. A large bowl of popcorn was in my hands when I woke up! Dang, it's slathered with salt butter, too. But I can't let it go to waste, because I would feel bad. Starving kids in China and all that.
I gained 10 pounds in a month. Depression set in. I felt horrible, and drowned my sorrows in pizza and beer. Obviously, I was meant to be sort-of-round-shaped.