Tuesday, June 10, 2008

The War of the Waistline...P.S. We're Losing

So I apologize in advance if any of you haven't eaten yet, but a story must be told here. And unfortunately, pictures are required in this type of tale.

I live in the fattest city in America, and according to most people, just the simple fact that I actually am technically "underweight", I should have no room to speak on this issue.

(NOTE: I honestly think that in the last few years, the testing that determines "overweight, normal or underweight" has been skewed because so many people are overweight, that it has almost become the norm. For example, a good friend of mine took her happy, healthy and fit eight-year-old son to the doctor and was shocked to learn that he was only in the 40th percentile of size for his age. Upon query, the doctor informed her that her son was not in fact small, rather most other children have been tested as larger. Yikes.)

But back to the post. It is disturbing to me how many "larger" children there are running around. And since when do Flaming Hot Cheetos and a Coke constitute a decent breakfast for a child on their way to school? No joke. I actually see kids eating this in the morning on the train. And no, they are not sneaking it. They are being
fed it by their mothers sitting next to them.

Ugh. I know that some people are trying to lose weight, and that the battles are epic. But I wonder sometimes how much we actually commit ourselves to fighting the challenges we face.

For example, today at lunch I popped into this place called "America Dogs". A kind of smorgasborg of hot dog delights from around the continental U.S. Knowing that I am DEFINITELY not supposed to be eating hot dogs on this new nutrition regiment given to me by my doctor, I almost walked out of the door before seeing that they had Morningstar Veggie Dogs on the menu. Hooray!! I ordered it at once. Scarfed it down with onions, mustard and ketchup, all the while reveling in my appropriate lunch choice.

And then I look over to the table next to me. There sat three Latino ladies, with what can only be described as a buffet of hot dogs, French fries, and onion rings. One lady, however, was the conscientious one who had opted for a salad. (EGADS! so the feast was now only for TWO?) At once I felt proud of that sole woman, who so bravely sat among the crinkly, beautiful, drool-worthy French fries and mouth-watering onion rings. A feat I know I would never be able to accomplish. That was until I saw this woman pull the largest carton of fries across the table and begin sprinkling them ONTO her salad.

People, I can't even make this shit up. So what the fuck what the lettuce for? An over sized garnish?


I'm not really sure I have point to all this besides, Yuck. Needless to say, I lost a little more faith in humanity today, and our ability to take care of ourselves. Double yuck.

And P.P.S. I just wrote this post while eating a plate of wraps that definitely had a LOT of bacon in them. Hypocrite? Maybe. But bacon is soooo good.

Monday, June 09, 2008

The Beginning of the End.... and my new beginning.



Most of the time, I comfort myself with the notion that most of life's challenges are merely lessons that we are supposed to learn at that exact point in our life. Other times, I want to give the universe a giant middle finger for dropping upon me, many unanswerable questions.

Lately, I've been feeling like I've have finally climbed out of the depths of one life challenges to reach the top and see nothing but endless stretches of open fields in every direction. Where do I go now?

So here I am, in Chicago. Almost 6 years now. Holy shit.

And what have I learned? Well, I've learned that when I apply myself and I can do anything I set my mind to. I've learned that if you don't hold onto love, well... it moves. To California.

I've learned that relationships are fleeting. Laughter, short-lived. Friendships require care and cultivation if they are to flourish. And most of all, that we are all just strangers in our own skin meant to spend a lifetime getting to know ourselves.

And I've learned that even though we might think we know what we want out of life, those wants usually have a life of their own. They can crawl from our hearts, slide down the bed and head out the door, only to pick up residence in a new shiny heart down the hall in someone new. And in their place move-in different, new wants that stretch out the walls of their new home, often leaving you bruised and beaten after days of fighting the status quo of what has been.

So enough with the dramatic metaphors. I guess what I'm trying to say is that in this last year, I have done more than my share of self-reflection only to come to the conclusion that my life up to this point feels like borrowed time. Like a vacation I went on and think back fondly on. It's strange how suddenly everything in my life seems so fragile, and that even at the young age of 27, I am scared to not have enough time left to do the things I want. (If I ever figure out what those wants are) Weird right?

It's as though overnight, I woke up and my life is in fast forward. Literally. One day everyone is telling me to relax, have fun. Live a little, you're young! And the next, everyone I know is popping out babies and talking about "taking it easy". Really? Already? Not me.

And as much as I love Chicago, it has ceased to feel like home. It was for a while there. I remember feeling excited after going back East to visit family, to return to my shitty little apartment in the Windy City, where I didn't have much but my swollen heart to fill those four walls with joy.

And now? Well now, my apartment feels kinda transitory. I can't really complain about the living conditions though, as they have vastly improved. But now it just feels empty, even with all the furniture. So I've decided to move on seek out my new home. Wherever or with whomever it may be.

The East Coast is the obvious right choice for my move. Not only is my family there, but over the last few years it seems that so many people in my life were headed in that direction for one reason or another.

Oh, and The Ocean. I miss her dearly. The smell of it, the gritty sand that stays on your feet for hours after leaving the beach, the way the afternoon sunshine convinces us all that the day is endless.

What else do I miss? The people. Their bluntness. The rudeness. The way people really look at you when you talk, as if they are dissecting your words one by one in order to properly frame their rebuttal or affirmation.

I miss walking in a bar and having guys not even try to pretend that they are not checking you out. (NOTE TO MIDWEST GUYS: YOU ARE REALLY NOT THAT COOL). I even miss the women. The unapologetic way that they speak their minds, even if you don't want to hear it. The opinions. The openness. The way they don't hold their tongues. (NOTE TO MIDWEST WOMEN: STOP WALKING AROUND MAKING THAT "WHO FARTED IN MY FACE" SCREW-FACE. YOU ARE NOT THAT COOL EITHER)

This morning as I walked from the train to work, a total East Coast Guido who was totally creepy and most definitely leering at me, looked me straight in the eyes and proclaimed "Good Morning Beautiful!!" in his Jersey-esque accent. And funny thing is, all I could think of was "Ah, I miss Home".