She woke up that morning not wanting to get out of the warm bed into the cold air. That was a problem with the big farmhouse they had bought, but it was one she was willing to contend with. She loved the house, even though she hated how she felt after climbing the stairs. Winded, and definitely not sexy. Her husband still calls her "One Hot Mama" though, and she feels confident she will become what he calls her. It's a far cry from being called "chappa" by her ex. He later broke it to her that it was Cherokee for "fat". Whether that was true or not, at a size 12 her "love of her life" should not have called her a nickname he understood to mean fat. She was glad to be rid of him, that's for sure. And hopefully she will be that size 12 again. But a 14 or 16 would work too!
She made her way downstairs, to see her husband making coffee. She made herself a smoothie, making sure she added the flax seed. It kept her appetite stemmed and was a good source of fiber. Inside, her fat cells were crying. They wanted peanut butter, and lots of it. "Sorry guys," she murmured, "not until I decide that's what I really want."
As she curled up under the blanket on the couch, her fat cells began their daily banter. "You know, with more of us, you're better insulated for the cold. Have you ever seen a SKINNY Eskimo?" "Hmph. I've never seen an Eskimo period, and it's not going to work, guys." She told her husband she would do her 15 minute walk at 4PM, so that he wouldn't be surprised when she got up and did it. Also, in the hopes that he would help hold her accountable.
She went to SparkPeople and logged her foods for the day, after breakfast and lunch. Then she had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for a snack, on 2 slices of small gluten-free bread. The fat cells were sending up complaints, not enough peanut butter. "Ah, but that's an advantage to small bread...less peanut butter will fit, guys." YIKES! She cringed when she finally entered the snack. GF bread has twice as many calories as regular bread! The fat cells rejoiced at her slip-up.
Their celebration didn't last long. The battle had started to go downhill for them when she made it to the treadmill at 4, and felt so good that she did 30 minutes instead of only 15! They tried to retaliate by jiggling madly, but she had worn jeans...no jiggle there! That night at work she researched GF tortillas and lefse. Low-calorie and perfect for the peanut butter and honey sandwiches she craved. Slowly, the fat cells began to wither. They began to plan for the next day. And soon, as midnight hit, they defeated her walls for a little while: 7 peanut butter cups. 613 of her precious calories down the drain.
She chuckled and reminded them that it would be a low-calorie day anyway, since she would sleep through most of it. A smoothie when she woke up, and then a small supper. Cursing at her, the fat cells crawled away in defeat and to plan another line of attack.