The Confession

There’s nothing more disheartening than torturing yourself on an elliptical machine for 30 minutes (read: wheezing, gasping for air, purple faced and burning)  than getting the read out afterward:   280 CALORIES BURNED.  What?! I’m dripping with sweat, can’t feel my legs (let alone get off the machine), and I only burned off the equivalent of a donut?  In one way, it’s like having cash in the hand.  You are less likely to spend calories when you know what the HazMat removal process is, exactly.

It was easy to pass up the donuts in the bakery section when I went to buy bagels.  I wouldn’t let myself even look near the cake.  My body had total control: enough is enough, it said, no way are we going to gain MORE weight and have to do more of THAT miserable !@#$%^.

Then something odd happened.

I missed a day.  My body stopped hurting.  My brain decided to get involved. (For those of you new to this blog, this is never a good sign.)  My brain did some pretty fancy calculations.  I couldn’t quite keep up with it.  (It’s very smart.  I’m often in over my head when I talk to myself.)

Brain: You walked the dog 2 miles.  Rode 2 horses.  On the exercise scale, that’s roughly equal to sweating to death for 30 minutes.  You can stay home from the gym.  In fact, you’ve probably already lost a couple of pounds, since you’ve been doing this for a whole week.

Jane: Really?

Brain: According to my algorithms it’s fine.  In fact, you could swing by the store and get a slice of cake to celebrate your weight loss.

Jane: I think we’ve had this conversation before?   Doesn’t it undo all that hard work?

Brain: Are you kidding?  Who is the expert here?

Jane: You.  What kind of cake?

Brain: Lemon.  Your favorite.

Jane:  Are you sure this is not a trick?

Brain: Me?  I always have your best interests at heart.

Jane:  I don’t know.  Let me check in with the Body here.

Brain:  Humph.  That thing.

Jane:  (shaking self)  Wake up!  I need your help.  Brain is saying cake okay?  What do you think?

Body: Mumph?  Sleeping.  Yawn.  Go away.  Soooo tired….Zzzzzzzzzzzz

Brain:  See?  I told you.  Trust me.  Your pants are gonna fit again in no time.  One little slice of cake won’t hurt.  You need to celebrate!

Jane: What am I celebrating again?

Brain: You’ve been to the gym FIVE WHOLE TIMES in the last week and a half.

Jane: That is pretty good…

Brain: I rest my case.

The car happily drove me to the store, where the brain took over and bought me a nice slice of cake.  Which I ate.  The next morning, my body woke up and was incensed:  YOU DID WHAT?!?  Do you have any idea how many calories is in cake??  How could you be so stupid, and throw almost two weeks worth of agony away?  Do you have any idea how many DAYS that is going to take to peel off your thighs?

I have a feeling I’m about to find out.

16 thoughts on “The Confession

  1. I’m pretty new to your blog, and I’ve really enjoyed your writing. You crack me up.

    Of course your brain is rebelling – it’s mostly made of fatty acids. Your brain needs fatty acids to grow and work. So it craves fatty foods. Sadly, if you are like me, your brain wants more than we really need to survive.

    My favorite food group is dairy – butter, creme and cheese. Which means when I eventually get a horse again (it’s been over 25 years) I’ll be looking for a draft cross.

    1. Thanks for coming over, and have a donut. 🙂

      I love the scientific explanation. Of course! Geeze. Who knew?! It’s trying to feed itself. I can see how, say, fish oil, wouldn’t be as appealing as frosting. You’ve given me a whole new understanding of my brain!

  2. I have a secret weapon: I grocery shop with my husband on a very careful budget, so I can’t buy sweets. I’m also far too lazy to actually drive to the store on my own. (I save my gas for trips to the barn).

    The weakness is here: I am not too lazy to make cookies, and I am a pretty darn good cook.

  3. Interesting.

    My brain is perfectly reasonable; my body, not so much.

    I can’t walk into a grocery store without wandering into the bakery section. I’m ogling the cakes and fondling the donuts before I know what’s happening.

    And then my brain — which was a boot-camp instructor in a former life — kicks in and usually manages to force-march me into the produce aisle and lecture me, again, on how fruit is just like candy and no, that does not include the sugared stuff, and would I please stop trying to walk to the ice cream aisle and go find a bag of grapes?

    Thank god I don’t sleep walk. I’d be waking up to empty ice cream tubs that I couldn’t even remember buying.

  4. Jane, you’re quite possibly the funniest woman I know. I think I’ve had similar brain/body debates, but never could have made it quite this funny. (I write this, by the way, over a bowl of Ben & Jerry’s. My brain thinks your brain did the right thing buying that cake.)

    1. oh geeze, now my brain thinks your brain is brilliant, clearly of a superior caliber (“it did the right thing”), and wants to take your brain out for coffee and dessert.

      It’s going to be a looooong week.

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