And Now For Something Completely Different

My Dad’s a clever guy. He also thinks he’s particularly clever when his daughters don’t want to be teased or harassed. Conversely, my two sisters and I tend to be at our wittiest when our Dad doesn’t necessarily wanted to be teased or harassed by the women in his life, so all’s fair…but that’s substance for another post.

So my Dad occasionally calls me Monty. The first time he called me this I gave him a confused look and he explained, Monty…Python, emphasis on the Python part. With this nickname I must confess my eating habits to the world. So for those of you who have never actually met me, no I don’t resemble large constricting reptiles or a troupe of British comedians. I do, however, like to eat large amounts of food. This bingeing is usually followed by the realization that I consumed a large amount of (more often than not) really unhealthy foods, and then I eat, for the next several days, very little in comparison. So in this way I’m like a Python. Priding myself in having swallowed a farmer’s goat whole, I don’t need to eat anything for the next month, because that’s how long it will take to digest an entire goat. Mmmmmm delicious.

I haven’t had one of these bingeing episodes in recent memory. Something has happened in the last couple of weeks, and circumstance after circumstance caused me to eat a lot of food, every day, for many consecutive days, and last night, I crashed. The thought of food is a little repulsive right now, and the only foods that sound remotely appetizing are fruits, vegetables, and water…lots and lots of water.

It all started last Wednesday. Two coworkers and I went to a happy hour sponsored by a non-profit networking group. About 20 minutes into the event, we all realized we didn’t feel like networking or schmoozing anymore, so we went to the bar and took advantage of the drink specials. Since I knew we were going to a bar, I got myself all hyped up for bar food. Since I didn’t want to cook dinner that night, I order the chicken tenders basket along with vodka tonic (great combination, I know). The next day at work, my coworker, R, popped into my office and asked if I wanted to go to lunch. Of course, going out sounded way more appealing than whatever I had brought for lunch. We went to The Breakfast Queen where I had a breaded chicken sandwich with french fries.

The next day (Friday) sister J and brother-in-law P came in for lunch. We dined at Tom’s Home Cookin’, a little eatery close to my place. A note about Tom’s: It’s only open during the weekday, only takes cash, they serve food from 11:00am until the food runs out, and food is amazing. This place has been voted best comfort food in Denver for the last couple of years. You choose a meat entrée, two sides, choice of bread and a drink. More than likely, you won’t be able to finish your meal in one sitting, but you just can’t stop eating this stuff. Fried chicken, smothered pork loin, catfish, meatloaf, chicken and dumplings, mashed potatoes, mac and cheese, collard greens, sweet potatoes, okra, succotash, peach cobbler, and so on, it’s all amazingly good.

So I ate Tom’s for lunch and later that afternoon, one of our program managers bought KFC for his kids and bought enough to share with the staff. I held out for as long as I could, but the thought of original recipe and biscuits (not to mention the smell wafting through the building), I gave in and ate another piece of chicken and a biscuit. That night, sister A came into town, so everyone came in to hang out at my place where we ordered Chinese food. On my birthday, sister J, brother-in-law P and I found a Chinese restaurant that delivers cheap food in large portions, and doesn’t taste like cat. Naturally we ordered from there again. I ate sweet and sour chicken, won tons, and fried rice even though I’d eaten two large meals that day. On Saturday I went to the suburbs and “snacked” on things like ice cream with chocolate chip cookies, popcorn with real butter and Twizzlers. I also had leftovers from KFC and Tom’s.

This week, just when I thought I was back on track, I went to Wahoo’s Fish Taco’s with a former coworker, I went to Tom’s again with my current coworkers, had a Chicago style hot dog and chips on the same day. Then this afternoon after, I thought I was actually back on track (seriously, I brought my own lunch), I ate two pieces of pizza at 4:30 (courtesy, again, along with the hot dog, or our program manager). When I got home from work last night, I couldn’t eat dinner, let alone even think about food. I just felt gross.

This weekend I’m going to L-town to see P. To his surprise, I’ve asked him if we could stick to eating things that aren’t deep-fat fried, breaded, smothered in sauces or made with artificial colors or flavors. Now that I’ve eaten the entire goat, I think I’ll just wait to let him digest before I try anything like this again.

**Correction**

I neglected to mention the hot wings, burger with fries and onion rings and bottle of Rolling Rock I ate for lunch the day that we "snacked" for dinner. Although it ended up only being half a beer becasue our inept waitress spilled half of it. Not that makes the rest of the meal any more healthy, but I have to redeem myself somehow.

That Was, In a Word, Stupid.

My body is revolting against me, and for good reason. First, some back story... When I was in high school, and during summers when I was in college, a large group of us from Big Horn and Sheridan would get together once, sometimes twice a week, to play Ultimate Frisbee. The games at home usually took place on the high school’s football field, the local polo fields, or a city park. There wasn’t ever a whole lot of strategy, and strategy was generally looked down upon and the games lasted for several hours. For Christmas one year brother-in-law P and his sisters made the regulars Big Horn Ultimate Frisbee sweatshirts. I liked playing Frisbee a lot; it is one of the only sports I feel like I’m decent playing.

This past Sunday was a beautiful day: sunny, a little breezy, and warm…bordering on hot at times. Sister J and brother-in-law P are in a competitive Ultimate Frisbee league that plays every Sunday. When I was their tenant, I used to go with J and P to watch the games, and during the summer league I subbed for some of the girls on the team a couple of times. Early last week J had asked if I wanted to sub in one of their games. The spring and fall leagues are harder than the summer league, so I was a little weary, but because I had been to so many games and knew enough of the team I didn’t feel completely uncomfortable subbing for them.

As I previously mentioned, Sunday was gorgeous, and probably the hottest day of the year so far. I should also mention that I’m not really in-shape. I work an office job. I no longer have access to free rec centers. My running shoes are very old. All of these are excuses, albeit poor ones, for why I haven’t been exercising at all lately. Frisbee requires a surprising amount of running and agility, both of which I’m very rusty.

With all of this in mind, here’s what happened to me on Sunday and why my body is still making me pay for my lack of common sense. I ended up playing not one, but two games, back to back, during the hottest part of the day. There are two key things I should have done before I started playing Frisbee. 1.) put on sunscreen 2.) warm up a lot. Because neither of these things happened my arms and upper back are sunburnedbeyond belief and my legs are more stiff and sore than they’ve ever been. I hurt…everywhere. My skin hurts, I was forced to sleep on my stomach last night to avoid my back from feeling like it was on fire from making contact with my sheets. Even though I’m walking to work, my muscles are still swimming in lactic acid when I sit at my desk during the day. I hobble, limp and try to avoid letting my back and arms make contact with anything. In short, it’s pathetic.

I really can’t figure out why I neglected to put on sunscreen and do a few more stretches or do a couple laps around the park before I took on competitive Frisbee again. I’d like to think that I’m smart, but sometimes I really have to wonder where they hell my brain is taking a vacation, because it’d be nice if I was there with it. If it’s in Fiji or Bora Bora sipping Mai Tais I would like to be there enjoying it too. Sitting on my couch with my bottle of aloe vera and ibuprofen close by is no day at the beach. I want my Mai Tai!