Wrath: I believe this happens a lot when I am driving on the Beltway, a student talks during my class, or I am offended in some way. I can be very feisty at times, and while this certainly isn’t my best side, it happens. Kind of like a temper tantrum. Adult sized.
Sloth: I wonder if any time I take a nap I am considered sloth-like? Because if that’s the case, I’m definitely guilty. Sometimes I’m apathetic about eating well or exercising. Sometimes I’m not. But sometimes I am. This is what I look like while on the couch.
Lust: I actually don’t have a problem with this one. I am fortunate and am crazy about Mac. Moving on. Unless of course we consider Brooks Laich, Alex O’Loughlin or Captain Jack Sparrow. You may be thinking, “Johnny Depp?” No, you’re wrong. Captain Jack Sparrow. You heard me.
Greed: This one definitely hits me hard. I want everything. And I want it now. I want more money. I want a better body. I want a lawn. I want a puppy. I want no financial worries. I want to eat a bag of double stuffed oreos and still have a decent figure. I want three day weekends every week.
Envy: Man am I guilty of this sin lately. I have been dealing with overwhelming feelings of jealousy and envy. Disclaimer: anyone who has something I want probably deserves it and probably has worked for it. But truth be told, I am still envious. I blame facebook and pinterest. Everyone posts pictures of good things in their lives, and I love it. I love it so much that I want it. I am actually happy for all those people who post beautiful pictures. And I’m a little envious. I am envious of those with a house. I am envious of those with a lawn. I am envious of those who can take trips without a care in the world (it seems, at least.) I am envious of those with good, toned figures. I am envious of other people’s awesome outfits and abilities to pull off heels and fun jewelry. I am envious of those who live in a city and don’t have a car. It seems so liberating. I am envious of those who live in the country. I bet they see lots of stars every night. I am envious of those who live in a neighborhood, even though I love our apartment and our apartment complex. Even though I am envious of about a million things, believe it or not, I am so grateful for everything I do have. I’ve read somewhere that if you want someone else’s life, then you have to take the bad with the good. I’m having the time of my life dealing with my own problems. No need to try to wrangle with someone else’s!
Gluttony: Sweet Jesus. Um yes, sign me up for that one. Is there a gluttony anonymous meeting somewhere local? I don’t need to go to an Over-eater’s anonymous meeting, but how about a snackers meeting? Because truthfully, my meals aren’t what do me in. It’s my snacking. For the love of a hippopotamus, I can put away snack food like you’ve never seen. Well, unless you’ve seen my dad eat. Have I mentioned before that he has an actual strategy for eating twelve donuts within 24 hours? He’ll explain it to you if you ask, and he’ll be really excited about it. Yes, Dave Kelly is a snacker. So is his daughter. When I was in high school, he used to call me “tons of fun” and sometimes “thunder thighs.” Never once offended me. First, I wasn’t embarrassed about my size. Second, he was 100% joking. Third, he knew it didn’t bother me.
If I’ve told this story before, I apologize. In middle school, I was super skinny. Like, shot up five inches in 7th grade, had my tonsils and adenoids out at the end of that year, dropped 15 pounds (what a great diet- surgery), and weighed maybe 90 pounds? I was about 5’4” and 90 pounds. Ate all the time. I would try to polish off a bag of doritos before dinner. My dad told my mom he thought I had an eating disorder, because I ate so much junk, and was so skinny. She told him, just wait. She’s gonna grow OUT soon. Although I’m sure she said it nicer.
Sur enough, I did grow out. Two years later, my dad probably thought I had another eating disorder. I wasn’t chubby, but I just “thickened.” Then I kind of tapered off and went to college. Stayed around the same size. Fast forward, you’ve heard about post-college. My friend Gavin said the sweetest thing one time. He said girls shouldn’t get made fun of for gaining weight in college. He said it’s because they’re turning into women. Wow, how beautiful. And with all due respect to Gavin’s gorgeous wife Amy, this coming from him, the guy who doesn’t date bigger than a size 2, well, this was so sweet! What a nice way to describe weight gain. Becoming a woman. Um, then I am uber-woman.
Dare I say that my gluttony is making me un-woman-like. Linebacker shoulders. Hourglass figure turned to apple/orange/pear shaped all in one. Husky. Chins. Plump. Chubby. Chunky chunk. Glutton. Gluttony. I’m not voluptuous. I’m unhealthy.
The other night, I got really mad at myself. It’s bc I knew my weigh in was going to be bad. I didn’t want to post it. If I’d just freaking committed in the first place, or in the SECOND place, I wouldn’t be such a heffer. Ok, I’ll back off. But seriously. It’s my fault, and mine alone. I am definitely proud of myself for going to the gym. I look great when I come back, because I am a sweaty mess. But the eating. It’s got to change. It just has to. If my eating doesn’t change, I won’t change. I am proud of the exercise. It’s important to acknowledge that I have been successful in that area. But it's important to let yourself get frustrated sometimes too. Or cry. Or scream. Or look like the child in the first photo. So yeah, I guess today, I am going back and forth. I am proud, but I am a little ashamed, because I know I can do better.