I’ve been enamored with Twitter lately. So many people on there who inspire me, encourage me and make me laugh.
One of the sub-cultures I’ve discovered in Twitter-land is the #fitfam. A huge group of people who call themselves “fitties” and are, to their credit, obsessed with being in shape and eating right. The post pictures of their tummies and their body crushes and how well their collarbones are coming in…
I think that’s great. It’s great to have a passion for fitness.
But I’ll never be one of them.
Why? Because, by and large, they think cheeseburgers are disgusting. I’ll never think a cheeseburger is disgusting. I may not eat nearly as many as I used to, because I don’t want to stroke out before I’m 40, but c’mon. Cheeseburgers are freaking delicious.
Or a burrito. Or fries. Or cupcakes. Or whatever your personal hankering is. (I love all that stuff…why do you think I got to be 60 pounds overweight?)
The last time I lost 65 pounds and got my BMI below the threshold of normal, I still ate what I wanted to…in moderation.
Last night, I took my 3-year-old daughter out on a date. We went to an Italian restaurant.
Italian restaurants are not known for being low-cal joints. Not sure if you’ve noticed. Lots of carbs. And cheese. Lots of cheese.
I had a mozerella stick (and a half, I’m not gonna lie). I had some bread with a tiny bit of dipping oil. And I had an entree. Or rather, I ate less than half of an entree and boxed the rest for home.
But you know what? I was still just over 300 calories under my “budget” for the day.
That’s a new term I’m using. I’m no longer “counting” calories. I’m “budgeting” them. Feels more positive. And responsible. And adult-like.
Look, I don’t judge the fitties. If you’re at the point where flax seed and sprout sandwiches and fruit for breakfast every single day is what gets you up in the morning, I think that’s awesome. I really do.
I’ll just never be that kind of person.
And that’s okay.