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Ben and Jerry take a hike

Someone snapped my photo recently and when I saw the picture, I just about dropped the cheesecake I was eating and nearly fell off the couch.

My name was in the caption, but surely they’d mixed me up with some puffier, pouff-ier, well, let’s just say it – fatter! – version of moi, right?

Sadly, no. It definitely was me. Looking horrifyingly like a dead ringer for the Michelin Tire Man – remember him? Growing up, he was one of my favorites. I liked him almost as much as the Pillsbury Dough Boy – who chuckled so adorably whenever someone nudged his round belly.

My crushes on chubby advertising characters aside, the picture sent shock waves through my dormant (since my divorce) vanity and I realized it was time to take immediate action.

Step One: Freak out. Oh. Good. Grief. Is this really what it’s come to? I have to work out and eat better? After all these years of thinking a “work out” meant taking a laptop to the park and working outside? After all these years of thinking French Fries counted as veggies?

Step Two: Weigh. Measure. Freak out again. Record results in huge poster taped inside fridge in hopes of shaming me into healthy eating. (Fat chance. I rarely open the fridge – it’s the freezer that holds me in its thrall: Ben and Jerry hootin’ it up in there with the bottle of hooch I keep on hand for emergencies … speaking of which ….)

Step Three: Drink massive martini to steady nerves for next phase: Search and Destroy! Empty cupboards of back-up boxes of Ho-Ho’s. Toss out camembert and café mocha. Tell Ben and Jerry to take a hike.

Step Four: Wipe remains of chocolate fudge fantasy from lips and begin mad search for sneakers. (Does anyone even call them that anymore?) Look under bed; get sidetracked by box of old – and I mean old – love letters from men who loved me pre-Michelin Tire days.

Two hours later, with pounding headache from memories of loves lost, I stuff the box back under the bed and wonder “What was I was looking for?” Rack brains, wonder into kitchen, open fridge for snack and remember … oh yeah, sneakers!

Step Five: Out the door finally! Keep firm grip on Draculian dread of bright yellow thing in sky; try to control separation anxiety caused by being farther than five feet from the nearest keyboard; wonder what that loud rasping noise is … realize it’s me trying to catch my breath; pray I don’t have a heart attack.

Ten minutes later, return home with healthy flush. Feel skinnier already!

Step Six: Inspired by success of ten-minute stroll, devote next thirty minutes to scrolling Internet for tips on how to lose weight without breaking a sweat or giving up pasta and pancakes. Find article that says something outrageous like “To maintain health and lose weight, experts recommend a daily minimum of thirty minutes of brisk walking.” Daily?! Thirty minutes?! Are they nuts?!

Step Seven: Daunted by the amount of energy and time and discipline it’s going to take to go from Michelin Tire-esque to Michelin Tire-less, I decide to take a break for lunch … and dinner.

Step Eight: Decide to have “final fling” before “starting over” tomorrow. Watch reality show The Biggest Loser for inspiration — while chomping away at a giant slice of pepperoni pizza and noshing on chocolate bunny rabbits I’d bought for Easter.

Step Nine: Go to bed feeling comatose from after-effects of pizza grease and cheap chocolate — but optimistic: tomorrow’s my fresh start, right?

Step Ten: Wake up next morning. Lumber to fridge. Stopped in tracks by sight of café mocha-less fridge and remember my vow – “Eat healthy! Exercise!”

Not sure I have the dedication it will take to go from Michelin-Tire-thighs to Mini-Me-size but as I slip on my “budge the pudge” shoes (yes, that’s my new name for them), I think … maybe … if it doesn’t rain … I just might.

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Posted on March 1st, 2008Comments RSS Feed
8 Responses to Ben and Jerry take a hike
  1. Dear MC,

    It’s great to read you again! I scanned some to be savored for later. Read the one about “budge the pudge” cause I just got back from a 20 min hike in the sun with Shorty-Fox. Yes, its’ grueling but the endorphins are the carrot! You will be spun into a (more) creative frenzie of writing after you exercise! Think also how many toxins from all that ink you’ve been ingesting epithelially speaking, that you will sweat out! Now that glow is not necessarily better than a post sexual high but there are a lot less strings attached!

    Glad to see you in print again! Your book is a peach! Love the cover!

    Looking toward more of your fine, fun mindstream in print! Your site visually is crisp and refreshing!

    Coie

    Reply
  2. Hi MC,
    I’ll have to send this around. My grand daughter works at the YMCA teaching a spin class and other things ,and my daughter in law just lost 65 lbs. They’re into that biggest loser thing. They have one going on at the YMCA.

    Very funny column. I’m still wiping tears from my eyes.

    Theresa

    Reply
  3. Hi MC,
    I just digested your very funny, self-deprecating and excellent column. Trust me, we’ve all been there and back. I’m a wino myself so I substitute the shiraz for dessert, but dark chocolate is always one of the four good groups.
    Now you know that you don’t always have to write political, heady stuff. Your terrific sense of humor is the way to win awards.
    Keep it up, girl.
    Ciao,
    Harriet the world traveler

    Reply
  4. Oh, thanks, Theresa! Happy I made you laugh!

    Reply
  5. Harriet, the world traveler … aka … Siesta Queen!

    Thanks for such a nice note. Hey, shiraz works for me too!!

    Reply
  6. MC,

    This is way to funny! Great read! I look forward to reading more of your blogs!

    TTYS

    Reply
  7. Troy — thanks for visiting mccoolidge.com and for commenting and oh, for LAUGHING!!! 😉 come back anytime.

    Reply
  8. Lost my own 15 lbs
    it’s the first 3 weeks that wil drive u crazy!
    After that it’s al uphill :)
    did u end up keeping off the weight or just accepting the female
    version of the Michelin tire man?

    Reply

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