One Potato, Two Potato

Source: theentertainingelf.com via Bonnie on Pinterest

Less than a month ago, the hubby and I were well on our way to growing roots and being couch-bound for the rest of our lives. We were on a fast road to nowhere, and considering we were only in our twenties, our sedentary lifestyle was becoming something of a joke.

Something had to give…and if anything, it needed to be our guts.

For a long time, I had a somewhat reckless view of my own eating and exercise habits. I was of the opinion that life was too short to diet and exercise. Basically, I thought to myself, “Self, I could die tomorrow, and if I do, I want to enjoy my last few meals to the fullest!”

With that attitude, I really could die tomorrow.

Y’all, I wasn’t just eating badly; no, I took eating badly to a whole new level.

Junk food for breakfast. Junk food for lunch. Rich, greasy food for dinner. Beer, wine, or soft drinks with many of our meals. I’m ashamed to say that it had gotten a bit out of hand.  

Growing up, I wasn’t a big fan of food. I could take it or leave it, and more often than not, my parents had to beg me to eat anything at all. My food of choice was junk food then, too.

Most of that changed when I met my husband. He loved food and introduced me to things like sandwiches and pot roast, and because of his influence, this long-time picky eater finally fell in love with food. Head over heals, in fact, and my normally fit figure fell with me. Since I met him back in 2006, due to our eating habits and our couch potato ways, I’ve gained nearly 30 pounds.

My extra weight hadn’t really bothered me until…it happened.

Back in February, I attended an event for work. Nothing major, a career day for a bunch of middle schoolers. My primary goal was to not scar them for life.

Mission probably accomplished. 

Scarred children aside, a local newspaper photographer was also at the event, snapping candids and then taking a posed group shot at the end of the day. 

I'm not the biggest fan of having my picture taken, but at the time, I thought nothing of it. Then one happy April day, a co-worker brought in a newspaper clipping with that spectacular group photo on it in all its black and white glory. 

I usually hate pictures of myself. I'm possibly the most un-photogenic person on the planet, but this was bad even for my standards.

Slouchy. Paunchy. Icky. Those are the three words that came to mind when I saw myself.

That photo was officially my wake-up call. It was time to get healthy. 

Luckily, I have another couch potato joining me in my endeavors: my husband. During our month of eating better and working out (and by "working out" I mean walking around our neighborhood instead of sitting on our couch), we've learned a few things we thought we should share with our fellow couch potatoes who may be thinking about pulling up their roots:

1) Gnats do not taste good. We walk at about 8:00 each night to avoid the heat of the day. Unfortunately, avoiding the heat means we have to encounter wicked little gnats, which try to fly into our mouths, noses, and eyes...with much success. I've swallowed a couple of the little suckers, which is a wholly unpleasant experience. Trust me.


2) You can get a stitch in your side just from walking. I never would have thought that I was so out of shape that I could be in physical pain after strolling around our neighborhood. I was wrong. After a few weeks of walking, the stitch doesn't come quite as often, but man, when it does...


3) You shouldn't try to jog after only three nights of walking. There's a natural order to these things. Don't try to speed that order up...you may end up coughing up a lung.


4) Your iPod is your friend. The Glee soundtrack that is on permanent loop on my iPod is an excellent walking partner. The upbeat tracks pump me up and give me just the right dose of energy to keep me from giving up too soon. Of course, they also make me want to dance...which for the person walking with me may or may not be a good thing. 


5) Fashion is everything. On our first few nights of walking, Jeremy and I were totally unprepared fashion-wise. We walked in jeans. Jeans. What were we thinking? Since then, we've realized the important of proper exercise clothing. It really does make a huge difference.

6) It could be worse. This one comes from the hubby himself, who thought he'd much prefer couch-sitting and video game-playing to an active lifestyle. "It's not as bad as I thought it would be" is about the best endorsement you're going to find from this former couch potato. 

And that's true. It could be worse....worse being where we were a month ago with our poor eating habits and days spent sitting around doing nothing. I'm loving our new active, healthier lifestyle so far...despite the gnats, stitches, coughed-up lungs, and that overwhelming urge to dance. 

Source: tumblr.com via Lesli on Pinterest

Hanging out with the fabulous folks at yeah write!

Confessions of a Picky Eater

Growing up, I wouldn’t eat sandwiches. I hated them. The only thing I would eat between two slices of bread was peanut butter. Not peanut butter and jelly, not peanut butter and honey. Just peanut butter. And for me to eat a peanut butter sandwich, the sandwich had to be just right. No crust, not too much peanut butter, just right. I was what you might call a picky eater.

Via

Most of my meals consisted of the handful of items I deemed good enough to eat. Usually, those items were snack foods, much to my parents’ dismay. Moving into a house of my own, with limited food funds available, my picky eating habits changed drastically. Suddenly, things I had never tried before became staples in our household…and this included sandwiches.

I began my love affair with sandwiches in spring of 2007, when my soon-to-be husband dragged me into a Subway for the First. Time. Ever. I went, kicking and screaming the whole way, which for me is more like some serious pouting. As we approached the counter to order, my pouting powers were in full swing, but they were useless against my man’s sandwich cravings. I surrendered helplessly to the Sandwich Artist and ordered a toasted ham and cheese with black olives, fully expecting to hate the thing and eat only the bag of Cheetos that came with my meal.

Alas, it was love at first bite.

From that moment on, my sandwiches became larger and more experimental. I added onions to the next order. And then green peppers to the next. At home, I tried exotic fairs like Spam sandwiches and grilled Pimena cheeses. With each bite, I became more enamored with the sandwich; it seemed that my hatred of sandwiches had left the building and with it so had my finicky eating habits.

Sandwiches were just the tip of the iceberg of what I’d been missing out on with food. Turns out there was an entire world that I hadn’t tasted. Things like homemade macaroni and cheese entered my life. Previously, I had believed that the best version of mac ‘n’ cheese was out of a blue box. Little did I know that there was something as wonderful and creamy as the homemade variety. It seems almost silly to say such things now, but my Mama and Daddy can readily corroborate the fact that I was unmoving in my picky eating habits and could never be convinced to try something new.

This was a point of much frustration with them. Try as they might, they could never make me understand just what I was missing out on. Now, they are simply amazed that I eat things like turnip greens and sausage gravy, broccoli casserole and cole slaw. Even nearly five years after my “food awakening,” they still look at me with amazement when I order something like chicken and dumplings or a roast beef and cheddar sub.

I’m woman enough to now publically admit that they were right. All of those years misspent missing out on such great foods fill me with regret and sadness. Mama and Daddy, I should’ve listened to you earlier; you were wise in your knowledge of food. I was wrong. You can gloat later, but for now, I can tell you just how glad I am that I’m a proper Southern eater. Just last weekend, as I was enjoying a homemade biscuit with my Mawmaw’s pear preserves (which in another lifetime I would have never even tried), I counted the many blessings in my life, not the least of which are the great Southern meals I can now enjoy.

Are you (or were you) a picky eater? Do you have a picky eater in your life?