My New Motivator

The diet and increased exercise are going well. The barn office is coming along nicely. And spring is definitely in the air. My itch to ride is increasing and I intend to relish in some serious pony-time tomorrow-they are predicting sun and sixty!

But there is definitely more work to do, evidenced by the bursting of my "I'm-not-that-chubby" bubble. Some people say I suffer from body dismorphia. I choose to call it reality. I am not a size 2 and I never will be, but 4 used to be doable. Yes, clothing manufacturers have widened their size paramaters. I even have a couple of size 2 jeans that I could sausage my thighs into. Not so much anymore.

I am aware of my expanding girth, and with the wedding approaching, Mr. W. and I have been working with a personal trainer twice a week. We have a brand new elliptical machine in the basement. Admittedly, it isn't being worn out, but it has had company fairly regularly. And there was the week when it was drying out from taking a swim in 16 inches of flooded cellar.

There is nothing like reality TV to really hit you in the face with the reason why many celebrities are so skinny.

Last December, my sister, my future MIL, two of Mr. W.'s cousins, and I spent part of an afternoon at Kleinfeld, the home of the program, "Say Yes to the Dress." It was a memorable occassion, not entirely because I found THE DRESS, but also for the spectacle of the film crew and subjects.

On the day we were there, a young lady was being filmed choosing her dress. We knew nothing about her. Except that she was difficult to fit. She was very well endowed. Infact, her cups runneth over. Literally. And they kept squeezing her into strapless dress after strapless dress. Janet Jackson at the SuperBowl had nothing on wardrobe malfunctions.

Seeing her in her dresses made me feel positively svelte in my choices. I was feeling pretty good and I was ecstatic with my dress.

Last weekend, I got a message informing me that we, my posse and I, had actually made it onto the show. Granted, we were in the background, but there we were!

Scrambling to find a rerun or recording of the episode, my sister and I were disappointed to only find a preview. However, in one shot, there I was standing on my pedestal in a dress. Was it THE DRESS? I couldn't tell.

For three days I kept checking Amazon and iTunes to see if I could purchase the episode. I wanted to see if they had caught the look on my sister's face when the busty one came out of her dressing room, stuffed into a dress that would have made Tinkerbell jealous. (It turns out her friends picked it out and she hated it. She put it on to humor them. I applaud her bravery.)

My sister did make it on film and I must say, she looked great. I have to say that my parents' investment in her smile really paid off.

I paused the video on my large computer screen. There I was. And yes, it is THE DRESS. It's distorted by the pixilated picture, though it is still beautiful. I, on the other hand saw how desperately I need to step up the diet and exercise.

My mother always used to tell me, "You're not fat, you're chunky." Yeah. I'm beyond chunk wavering into full-blown chubbo status. You can tell me that TV adds ten, twenty, thirty pounds. And I'll politely nod and thank you. But I won't believe you.

Don't worry. Although I would like to starve myself for a few weeks (I know what people say about starvation diets, but let's be real. Anorexics are skinny.) Food deprivation works. Luckily, I have no will-power when it comes to food. I get hungry. I promise myself I'll only have an apple, or some cereal, or a couple of clementines, which evolves into, why don't I just eat lunch now. Of course later, I want a snack...

I guess this is another good reason to hole-up in the barn during the day. I'll stock the mini-fridge with carrots and water. I'll be able to write and diet simultaneously. Sounds like a plan to me! Just have to forget about the summer supply of Haagen Daas ice cream bars in the nearby pool house...