We were in denial. We continued to order in our favorite Indian curries and Chinese noodles.
When I cooked, I tried to impress him with my culinary skills. I made fried rice, butter-poached salmon and truffle-cream pasta. I put cheese on everything. Cheese on eggs, cheese on linguine, cheese on brussels sprouts and cheese on toast. He loved it; he ate it. We both ate it—and it showed on our thighs.
I refused to step on the scale. I refused to get into the bathing suit I wore when we went on a vacation early in our relationship. I refused to have sex with the lights on.
We joined a gym three months ago, but we only went twice. We tried to get our asses back on the ellipticals, but there was always an excuse. Now, over a year into our relationship, we feel depressed and frustrated by it. We can’t seem to get into a pattern of healthy eating and exercise. We work long hours and enjoy coming home to a comforting meal, a bottle of wine and a movie. We love going out to restaurants as a treat, and we enjoy bringing in those Indian curries even more.
Neither of us are remotely obese, or even “fat.” We just don’t feel healthy, and we certainly don’t feel sexy. We are still wildly attracted to each other. He is still the apple of my eye, even if that apple has been dunked in Nutella. We just want to go back to the bodies we had when we first met.
So this year, we resolve to lose the extra weight.
We resolve to motivate each other.
We resolve to go to the gym together at least twice a week.
We (ahem, I) resolve to stop adding unnecessary cheese and butter to dishes.
We resolve to stop snacking when we’re not even hungry.
We resolve to not be slaves to the scale.
We resolve to make more salads and order less curry.
We resolve to have more sex with the lights on.
Basically, we resolve to get our physical bodies to look and feel as happy and healthy as the body of our relationship.
I would have told my friends, but then they might have looked at our tight my jeans were around my waist. They would have noticed I was sucking in so hard I was short of breath.
But, like I said earlier, we are still looking for a dance class. It sounds like a better, healthier way to entertain ourselves after work than our usual carbs, booze and a movie. Nothing says motivation quite like tight-fitting dance clothes. And we might take that sushi lesson, too. Brown rice with cucumber, anyone?