So, anyone know how to lose weight in your face? 

I know. I’m 37 now and can’t expect to look like I’m still in my twenties.  Yeah, I’m whining today.  But don’t worry, it’s all in fun.  <g>

I’m nearly six feet tall and everyone tells me I’m at a good weight–that I was a skeleton before.  Truth is, I do sometimes like my weight a little more now.  I actually have boobs.  (Probably TMI for you all, but I never had them before so it’s a big deal to me.  heh heh.) 

But I don’t like the extra weight on my face.  With so much Cherokee and German in my genetics, I’m already prone to a wide, square face.  Seems it only looks like me below 135 lbs and I have to literally starve to get there these days.  Not happening.  For one, I like to cook.  And well, I’m just not into suffering.  Think that comes with age as well. <g>

But something happens around 35 and keeping that low weight gets harder and harder.  Having such a sedentary career doesn’t help.  I’d rather be sitting on my ass writing than doing just about anything else.

Yeah, I get on my treadmill, but as Rachel and I discussed the other day, you have to run fast and FOREVER for the calories to burn on that thing.  And it’s so freaking boring!  I try to read but end up tripping over my size eleven feet and flying into walls.  See this post.

It’s funny.  Kelli flatters me with talk of Amazon women, but those of us who see over the heads of most men we know, just tend to feel well, big. <g>  In fact, I’m sharing some rock videos tomorrow of an artist who feels the same way. 

Anyway, this conversation of ours happened Sunday.  We had lunch before Rachel gave her first writing workshop.  (She was wonderful and even read aloud and the best part?  She cursed.  It was dialogue, of course, since she hardly ever does that herself–but watching her face tint red with those words was just plain fun.  Oh, and she even let me hold her ARC <g>)  We had a blast, but part of our lunch conversation was on calories and exactly how many were in the salad, bread sticks and yummy potato crusted chicken on pasta with garlic butter sauce.  Oh man.  Good, good stuff there.

I’m just now learning about calories.  Never wanted to pay attention before.  So, she’s laughing at my horror. 

“200 calories in that alone.”  She pointed to the garlic bread stick I was happily munching.

“Really?  Wow.  Walking fast one mile on my treadmill covers only this bread stick.  ONLY this bread stick.” Actually, this was a big moment for me.  I knew in that instant that I had been a happier person before knowing this.

“Yeah, you don’t want to know about the salad.”

“Then, I suppose the actual chicken drenched in butter–this fabulous pasta and whole garlic sauce—this heavenly smelling food we’re about to eat–it’s like seriously bad.  I’m talking all day on the treadmill bad.”

“Yeah.”  She grinned.  “Let’s eat it anyway.”

LOL! She apologized for cluing me in, but I assured her, I prefer to be knowledgeable about everything I can.

So, she tells me about Lean Cuisine– says they’re good.  As a recovering victim of bad frozen food, I was skeptical, but I purchased some yesterday.  Tried my first one today.  Butternut squash ravioli with snow peas, carrots and nuts.  Everything is better with nuts.  (I know, I’ll pay for this remark.)  Hey, it was pretty good and way more interesting than the food I usually scrounge on heavy writing days like today.  Not much of it.  Though… I suppose that is the point.

Snacking on heavy writing days is my norm.   But, I simply must be good now.  If I eat less, I can still have my wine occasionally.  Gotta have priorities, right? 🙂

Anyway, Rachel, who swears she can never take good pictures is a liar.  She is.  In fact, she looked just as fantastic in person as she did in these pics.  I asked our host to take three shots. Three.  Notice how wonderful and freaking CLEAR Rachel looks?  In every single one? 

Not only am I blurry all weirdly by myself in two, but I somehow stumbled into some bad lighting.  Was I bopping around or what? 

It has to be because I’m always looking down at the photographer.  Has to be.  I need to squat and look up or something.  Or find that damned puffy face monster.  And uh, I only included that last one to show you the very weird blurry onlyme.  Rachel, once again, looks stunning.  My expression though… ouch.  LOL!




It looks like I’m thinking something really, really bad here, eh?