First off, thanks to the people who actually contacted me personally after reading my last post. Who would have thought you could use the internet to connect with people?
Today I'd like to talk about an issue that has become increasingly pressing over the last year. As many of you know, Dan and I bought a condo last year and moved in together at the beginning of last summer. For the most part, it's been a lovely journey through commitment-ville and relationship-town, and we actually get along rather well, which I suppose is important if you're going to cohabitate.
If you have had the incredible misfortune of never having met Dan, he's basically a super tall Harry Potter. He's like 6'3" or some preposterous height, he wears glasses, he's got brown hair...all he's missing is a lightning bolt scar and Ralph Fiennes as a mortal enemy. Anyway, for all that vertical mass, he's like 165 pounds (for reference, this puts him on the lower end of the "healthy" weight range, if we're talking BMI).
The problem here is that Dan has all the same shitty habits that I do, but for whatever reason, his body reacts by ignoring all the calories and inactivity, and just kinda...staying skinny. It's not that he eats a lot, he just eats incredibly bad food. He has bread for entire meals on a relatively regular basis, eats snacks before dinner when he gets home from work, and spends every waking moment either on the couch or in front of the computer (and this is after being at a computer at work all day). The most vigorous physical activity I've ever seen him do is play pool. He will admit, so I don't feel bad stating it publicly, that he is a truly, impressively lazy person. This, of course, means that he is not at all muscular, but I don't think he really minds that.
So, basically, I have a partner in crime who will eat junk food and order out for wings and stay on the couch with me watching Firefly allllll day, except I will gain five pounds and he will go on looking exactly the same. And don't get me wrong...this isn't an "it's not fair" kind of thing. Different people have different metabolisms and reactions to food; shit happens. His mom's relatives all pretty much look like Dan: taller than average, skinnier than average. My family...well, my size is not a surprise to anyone who has met my family. I'm not bitter about my genetic profile versus Dan's. It's just how it is.
No, instead it has simply become increasingly apparent how unhealthy our household dynamic is. I don't have enough passion and strength to cry, "no! I will NOT get T. Anthony's with you!" because, well, T. Anthony's was probably my idea, and I tend to get rather grumpy when having to make food decisions (as many of you are all too aware). And I like eating dinner with Dan, but my incredibly limited palate (again, another issue for another day) means that we only really have like 5 meals in common, which get old pretty fast. I love pasta with red sauce, but how many times a week can you have that before you go crazy? Keep in mind, too, that I'm making my own lunches now that I'm home for the summer, so I'm getting sick of all my food options twice as quickly as normal.
I tried to involve Dan, at his request, in my weight loss goals some years ago. We had a particularly emotional conversation wherein I essentially told him that feeling fat and horrible makes me not want to bone. Well that got him invested, let me tell you. Unfortunately, and not that it's his fault, Dan doesn't really know how to provide support in the way that I need. I don't like being policed and monitored, so having him watch me look at food in the cabinet was not working for me. He's one of those objective, left-brain people I addressed in my last post, so it's hard for him to understand the emotional, subjective side of this whole issue. He can identify the issues, project possible solutions, and create action plans to implement those solutions. He does that all day at work. But that's not really what I need, so at this point, he is on the outside looking in, wondering WTF is going on when one day I'm working out for two hours and the next I'm eating french fries.
Maybe if he were a picky eater with weight issues and bad knees who wanted to shed a few pounds, then we could work together. But he's not a picky eater, and he doesn't want to lose weight. So basically, we're doing two different things and if I'm going to make any progress, we have to be living two different lifestyles. Which sucks, because we live together and like spending time together. And unless I want to start preparing elaborate healthy meals for us every night, we're going to end up eating separately almost all the time, because half the meals we both enjoy come in styrofoam boxes. That makes me kind of sad.
But at the same time, it's not fair to me if all of the things he likes to do are actually hurting me. I like doing them too, which is why we do them together, but I also like going for walks. And shit, I even like doing Turbo Jam, despite the fact that it kicks my ass. I'm one of those people who gets delightful endorphin rushes from exercising (I know everyone is supposed to feel that way, but most people I know feel like puking, or napping, or eating after exercise); that's one reason why it's even sadder that I'm still fat. I like physical activity. But I also like sitting around. And Dan does, too. So we do that together. And it ain't healthy. Really, it's bad for both of us; just because he's skinny doesn't mean he's in shape. But I'm not the boss of him and it's not my job to keep him healthy. I have enough to worry about with my own body.
I suppose I could try to get him to exercise with me, but I know he wouldn't want to and wouldn't enjoy it. The Venn diagram of foods that we both like and foods that are healthy would basically just be two distinct circles, so a shared healthy menu is out, too. If all of our meals and all of our activities are different, then did he just become my roommate? Blech, this sucks. Stupid skinny kid.
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