I’ve been thinking of getting a personal trainer and a nutritionist. Aside from figuring out how it’s going to fit into my already-stretched budget, this is a huge step for me. But I think it’s time I considered it. I’ve never been one to want things like that; people have been shouting the praises of the personal trainer and the nutritionist for years, but I never listened. I know it’s my complete and total stubbornness that has made me block out these suggestions; my flawed, independent streak won’t allow for ANYONE to tell me what to do- and then there’s my solid belief that the only person who can actually solve my problems is me (I know- there are control issues here. I’m working on them- and I’ll thank you to curb your judgement). Anyway, I’m finally thinking seriously about it.

Weight has been an issue for me since I was ten years old. Puberty came with weight gain I couldn’t control- and combined with eating habits I didn’t know how to change, I was doomed. The fact that I got glasses at 11 didn’t help this journey. It took me a long time to accept myself, to like myself, to love myself.  I finally got around to thinking I was marginally attractive in high school. I didn’t feel sexy until college. Anyway, I spent so many years feeling bad about the weight, that I spent almost no time doing something about it. Of course, I know now that I should have made those changes in my lifestyle back then- and I wouldn’t have spent so much time feeling bad. And I wouldn’t be so far behind now.

These days I’m happy to report that I love myself. I look in the mirror, and I don’t cringe. I don’t cry, I don’t feel bad or unattractive. I feel like a work in progress- which is what I am. But I’m getting off track…

The reason I’ve decided to break down and seriously consider a personal trainer and nutritionist is because I’m afraid that I’ve become something of a comfort eater. Why am I comforting myself, you ask? Well, a few reasons. I’ve been reflecting a lot- on my life, on the redirection of my dreams, on the sad fact that my sex life (although pretty damn good when it’s active) is usually somewhat inactive. These all lead to me plates of pasta while I think- or cheeseburgers to make me think of something other than penises. Also, since I’ve been falling in love with TV again, my couch and I are spending more time together. What better way to pass TV time than with snacks? So there’s sandwiches and chips while I watch football, and basketball, and Scandal, and One Tree Hill reruns, and whatever obscure documentary I can find on Netflix. And don’t get me started on liquor. As a matter of fact, we won’t start on liquor- because I’m not giving it up- for anyone. But I digress…

I’ve been a lover of food for a long time. Cooking food, smelling food, trying new food- it’s something that’s always been a part of my personality. I like having dinner parties, family dinners, experimenting with recipes. Food has always been a great communication tool for me. Because of that, I’ve never even considered the possibility that I was dependent on it in ways other than the traditional ones. But lately, I’ve begun to notice that food can make me happy. And I don’t mean the triumphant joy of mastering something I’ve never made, or getting my friends to try something they normally wouldn’t like. I mean, I started to notice that whenever I was on the verge of being a little more lonely than alone, or a little more sad than simply reflective- food could brighten up my day. This is bad. This is very, very bad. As much as I LOVE food, it’s not Xanax- I don’t want to use it as a mood stabilizer. I just want to be a good cook who likes to cook for people. I want to APPRECIATE food- and I think I’ve gotten a little beyond that.

It’s not as though I haven’t done anything. But my twice-a-week trips to the gym are only good if I’m going hard every time (and I don’t). And it’s only as effective as the food I’m eating in between. Which as hard as I try, is crap 50% of the time. So it’s time to retrain myself. And since I have ZERO willpower when you put a cheeseburger or some Chicken Alfredo in front of me, it’s time to explore other options. I figure if I’m paying people to keep me on track, I might try harder to stay on track. And at least it’s something new.

I’ll let you know how it goes… now to find the money… I may have to dip into my wine budget…