A journey in words...

Welcome to my journey in words! A story about health, exercise, weight loss, food addiction, humor, size discrimination, sarcasm, social commentary and all the rest that’s rattling around inside my head...

I now twit, er... or tweet. Anyway, you can follow me on twitter @Aeon1202

Thursday, March 25, 2010

My Fat Cell

This is my fat cell – isn’t it adorable?

I call this learning to love the enemy…

For a long time now I’ve been wanting a fat cell plushie, it’s part of the “Giant Microbe” line of plushie toys. They make all kinds of things, from plushie E-Coli to the Black Death. I just think the round fat cell with it’s big google eyes is completely fricking adorable.


Ted wanted to get me a present because I’ve been working hard, so he surprised me with this one in my kitchen last night when I was cooking dinner. It was a little pick me up I really needed – especially when I was eating my potato beet green soup and watching him and Kyle scarf down scrapple with eggs and home fries. I even made the home fries for them, and boy were they good. I had a taste but couldn’t have a whole serving because I’d cooked them in olive oil.

Not easy.

It’s not easy on them either; Kyle passed up a hamburger because I couldn’t have one. I know they hate eating things in front of me that I can’t.

Although I understand the basic physics – if you consume more calories than you burn, it stores as fat. But it is hard to wrap my head around how my husband is burning more calories than he eats. His job is a desk job like mine, and he regularly enjoys things like scrapple and cheese without putting on a pound.

For some reason I guess his metabolic engine just runs hot all the time.

I can see him peering at the diet I’ve confined myself to and wishing he could somehow give me some of his metabolism, but it is what it is. Hey, he has bad knees and I don’t – that’s not fair either, right?

Anyway I just wanted to share my little fat cell. I’ve decided to make my enemy innocuous and cute. Plus when I get frustrated I can grab the little guy and yell “YOU’RE GOING DOWN, FAT CELL!” and slam him to the kitchen floor.


Here’s his permanent position in my kitchen, hanging out with my Tiki-god salt and pepper shakers and watching over me while I cook.

No comments:

Post a Comment