Okay. I’d been hitting the vino a bit vigorously. In the beginning I’d add ice. But, hey, that’s kind of gauche isn’t it? So I started pouring it “straight.”
They say wine is healthy, right? But what’s that word we Americans so steadfastly ignore? Oh, I know. It’s moderation. So dull, so slow. The word plods, doesn’t it? So no, I was not exercising moderation. Yeesh.
And anyway, I was drinking organic wine! Who could find fault with that? As it turns out, my fat cells found no fault with that at all. In fact, they relished it. They expanded in pleasure from all that rapid sugar. This from Dr. Silver, my chiropractor who serves as my all-around guru when I take the time to consult him (in other words, when I’m ready to know something and not bury my head in the sand.)
There are so many things to learn in life! Maybe that’s why it takes us so many years to get grounded. I was telling Dr. Silver that life is like Slum Dog Millionaire – our experiences give us the answers we’ll eventually need.
I’m not an alcoholic. But as my friend Pascale observed the other day, “Being a wino is socially acceptable.” Perhaps it’s a nefarious PR campaign from the vineyards. Maybe wine is the new “milk” – neither of which do a body good. Actually, wine is better than milk. Go figure. I started drinking wine more at my writing retreats. Cocktail hour became the reward at the end of the day’s work – and soon I was Pavlov’s dog at the sound of the cork popping.
When I was a kid I discovered I loved beer, and I’ve gone through stints such as my “Corona Summer” a couple of years ago (Corona Light, to be specific – with lime n’est pas) but in the past year or so wine became my mainstay. More and more. The wind flowed past the retreats, and I was buying cases during my liquor store’s semi-annual sale. And going through them quicker and quicker.
Cougar Town was no help. What the hell??? How are these women so thin with all guzzling??? I know it’s TV, but I thought: Maybe it’s because they’re drinking red wine. The truth is, maybe they’re not really drinking all that wine. Or maybe they’re training their asses off. Or maybe they’re having surgery. Or maybe they’ve signed deals with the devil. Is there a painting of Courteney Cox in her closet, getting fatter and fatter?
The other thing you need to know in all these pieces is that I have one body feature I abhor, and it’s not what you’re thinking. I can live with my butt (hey, I don’t have to look at it) and I can suck in my belly at parties. Can you guess? It’s my upper arms. In a word, they’re bulbous. Flappy, too. I’m surprised I can’t fly.
Even when I lost a ton of weight about ten years ago – I was hot! – I still had my flaps. What a disappointment. I worked out with a trainer and spent countless hours in the gym, but those suckers wouldn’t succumb. I even went for a plastic surgery consultation, but the cost was high – and then Kanye West’s mama died. Certainly he would pay for the best surgeon! This meant that plastic surgery was deadly. The end.
Sometimes I wear t-shirts, but generally they’re huge ones in order to cover up. It’s not because I don’t want anyone else to see – I don’t want to see. Puffs of bloat pop out from under the sleeves of regular t-shirts. Actually, I look better in a tank top. But not better enough.
Then I heard about “lipo-light.” They use LED lights and heat to liquify the fat, and then you exercise immediately afterward so that the fat winds up in the lymph system and will be eliminated. Something like that. Dr. Silver says that could work!
I’d heard about it a couple of months ago, but didn’t dare investigate because I knew it would be pricey. But then there was a Groupon for it. I went for a consultation – and I’m giving it a go!
Here’s where it all ties together like in Slum Dog Millionaire: they want me to give up my wine. They say there’s no point if I don’t follow with a good diet. They could find no fault with my food, but the wine was the sticking point.
But I must be ready, because though my initial reaction was a look so sharp that I felt myself shooting it at her, like a death ray. But then I thought, Okay. I’ll get more writing done. Seriously, I don’t know how Hemingway did it.
So this is day one. I’ll let you know how it goes. (Yesterday, following my session, I forwent alcohol at lunch with my older son who had accompanied me to the appointment as the voice of reason, in case they tried to get me to spend thousands, which they did not.) I also didn’t have any wine when I got home. I did have one glass at a networking function in a bar – hey, they gave me a ticket for a free drink. C’mon!)
The good news is: I can pay for the lipo-light with the money I save from not buying wine!
Bye for now.