Thoughts on my Revenge Body

So my current revenge body is shaped more like a marshmallow than an hourglass, for many reasons. First, baking is a stress reliever for me, therefore I do a lot of it. The smell of chocolate chip cookies in the oven is soothing to the soul (at least my soul) and I love the warmth of the kitchen, the smell of baking bread or cookies or something delicious, and for the kids, it provides warmth and security—they love knowing where Mom is and they congregate in the kitchen while I bake to do their homework, read, draw, or dance. Baking is something you can do while you are talking, so I can pay attention to them AND my muffins at the same time. On a primal level, if the fire is lit and the room is warm and smells like food, you are safe—you aren’t running from danger or a threat. So on a physiological level, it appeals to all of us. Is there anything better than sneaking a little cookie dough as sheets go into the oven? I love the taste of warm cookies straight from the oven, they melt in your mouth and it wouldn’t be a stretch to say they are a little orgasmic. In fact, I’m not ashamed to say that when my ex and I got romantic, instead of “talking dirty” I would have him read me dessert menus.

Try it.

You’re welcome.

Baking is not good, however, for a gorgeous strong healthy body. Neither is cookie dough. My sister-in-law relieves her stress by working out and it has really worked well for her. Not only does she have a rockin’ body, she’s become a fitness pro, winning competitions and rocking the tiniest pink bikini you’ve ever seen. And she’s over 40. And she has five kids including twin boys. She’s an inspiration–I cheer her on while I slather warm cookie dough in my mouth. She struts around the stage, her muscles rippling, while my arms ripple as I dip my spoon again.

I think I should make working out my stress reliever instead of baking, but in addition to baking, I made the mistake of buying a Love Sac couch. I’ve never had a really comfortable couch before, and this couch is DIVINE! Like laying on a cloud!! And we are living in a Golden Age for tv and movies, and they are all available at my fingertips with Apple TV, Netflix, Hulu, Amazon and every other streaming service on my big screen. With the remote on the arm and a fuzzy pink blanket and a million amazing stories available at a touch… well, let me give you an example of what goes on in my brain.

There is an angel and a devil on each of my shoulders. The angel is called WW for Wonder Woman; The devil is called CP for Couch Potato.

Here is a battle sample: I come home after an insanely stressful day in divorce court. To set the scene, I haven’t slept in days, my brain feels like it’s on fire, my heart is broken, and I have a migraine practicing Kung Fu on the periphery, threatening to throw gasoline on the fire that is already in my brain.

Wonder Woman (WW) vs. Couch Potato (CP)

WW: I have a great idea: you should go work out! You will feel so much better afterwards. Play your favorite songs, get your heart pumping, your blood flowing, let’s do this!

CP: Marciiiii!!! Work out? Have you lost your mind? You will feel better if you come lay on the Love Sac, so cozy, so comfy. Come veg! Come binge watch something! You deserve it! You’ve had a rough day!! I’ll support you!!

WW: You will feel terrible after laying around! Like a Jet-puffed marshmallow. Come work out! You will clear your mind, get toned, rock on! No excuses! Let’s do it!

CP: Girrrrrl!! One workout isn’t going to do anything for you. You need thousands of workout to make a dent in that jiggle! Plus it will stink in there. You will run into people, you will have to talk. Don’t stress! Treat yourself! Get an ice cold Diet Coke, pop some popcorn, grab some Hot Tamales, some Cinnamon Bears… Get cuddly under the pink blanket and watch an amazing story play out! You are so lucky to be living in the Golden Age of TV and Movies all at your fingertips. Touch the remote and you can watch whatever your heart desires! You deserve it! It will smell good, you won’t have to talk to anyone… Maybe you’ll even get inspired to write your own hit tv show! That’s it! It’s actually research, not vegging!! Come on!

WW: (wrestling CP behind her so she can be heard) Girrrl!! You will feel terrible if you lay down! Hours will pass and you haven’t moved! Like Jabba the Hut! Eat those cinnamon bears and you will be shaped like one! Get your ass to the gym!

CP: Work out tomorrow. Tonight is your Farewell to Fat party—time to chill.

WW: You have a Farewell to Fat party every night. (Big Sigh–then quieter) At least take a walk around the block with the dog. Smell the trees, let the starlight dance in your hair, get your blood flowing a little.

CP: I will allow a 15 minute walk, but if you get up there and don’t feel like it, turn right around. Come lay on me! I’ll be waiting!

Then Couch Potato jogs around the pink furry boxing ring in my mind shaking her clutched hands in the air like a champion, wearing silk shorts and a robe, but toned, like someone who works out.

Couch Potato Wins Again!!

So if I can’t change myself, I’ll change the culture! That’s the answer!! 

 Marci’s Declarations for the Perfect Revenge Body: 

1.Toned arms are out! Bat Wings are In!

So, I’m 50. There are new unusual things happening to my body as it shifts around with the passing years. For example, bat wings. I’ve always had naturally toned arms. Now, I hold my arms out to the side and with a little twist of my hands, the skin under my biceps starts to quiver. WTF? I noticed this in the mirror one day and thought, huh, is that unbecoming or super cool? I used to watch the lady at church lead the music with a stick, but I never watched the stick, I was too busy watching the flabs of skin under her arms swing back and forth. I didn’t find it disgusting, more just interesting. I now have those swinging bat wings, and I’ve decided to bring them into fashion, so now I declare: Toned arms are out! Bat Wings are In!

2. Cellulite is gorgeous!! If you are unlucky enough not to have any cellulite, come to my house and I’ll give you some cookies so you can have some cellulite of your own! Stand in your bathroom mirror, turn around and look over your shoulder, and tell every single dimple on your thighs you love them! I love you! I love you!

3. Muffin Tops? Sizzling and sexy! The rounder the rolls the better! Muffins are delicious! Muffins are darling! Celebrate your muffin top!

4. Jiggly and Wiggly! I love it! When I teach my belly dance class and we get to the volcanic ecstasy shimmies, I tell my students LET IT SHAKE! The secret to shimmies is to relax on top of the shaking and shimmering, and to do it really well, you let EVERYTHING SHAKE! EVERYTHING! Thighs! Bellies! Cheeks! All of it! This goes against everything we are taught in any other exercise class, but the side effect of this is that people leave my class feeling beautiful. Try it!

After my ex left, my weight dropped, a pleasant side effect of tragedy—try the Divorce Diet!! (No don’t, it’s the worst.) I was told that extreme trauma can mess with our adrenal glands and affect the senses including taste. Even chocolate chip cookies tasted bitter to me. But I also felt like I wasn’t part of this world. People would talk to me, I could see their mouths moving but I had no idea what they were saying. I don’t do well without food. But secretly I was thrilled with the flattening of my stomach. I was doing it! I would have my Revenge Body without even trying!  The problem is that eventually my sense of taste came back, and I got hungry, really hungry. And I’m not a person who can go hungry. Within a few days, I start to feel so deprived that all hell breaks loose in my mind. All my bouncing pink unicorns turn to snorting raging black horses, the nightmare kind. I become a bad person, a bad parent, a bad friend, and I no longer have anything nice to say about the world. (Now you know, if I’m ever grouchy, feed me. I’m the opposite of a gremlin—don’t feed them after midnight, but feed me at all hours.)

If I get too hungry, I hallucinate.

Once Kim and I went on a heart-surgery-patient soup diet together. We spent $70 we didn’t have on vegetables and came home and made a huge pot of soup that we planned to eat for the next ten days—only the soup—nothing else. After two bowls, things took a turn for the worst. We went to see my sister. I looked in my nephew’s frog aquarium and wondered why there was a large delicious brownie in the middle of it. I rubbed my eyes and on second look, it wasn’t a brownie, it was a rock. It was now 9pm, and we drove straight to our favorite Italian restaurant, Miceli’s, with the murals on the wall, the wine bottles hanging from the ceiling, the waiters breaking into operatic arias at random times. We went to Miceli’s and ate like we hadn’t eaten in seven weeks, laughing and happy and flushed with wine and hot buttered rolls and pasta smothered in cheese. We were gleeful as we ate, and when we got back to our Royal Palace, we took the soup out of the fridge and dumped it. We never wanted to see it again.

We had been on our soup diet for 7 hours.

So there you have it. My current revenge body is shaped like a marshmallow. Or a cinnamon bear. If my ex loved marshmallows and cinnamon bears, he would LOOOOVE me, and the Revenge Body would be mine. But all my ex eats is raw fish, because he’s always on his own diet.

So, as I stand here in my kitchen, I think what the hell is this Revenge Body stuff anyway? I don’t know, but I’ll think about it and get back to you after I finish baking these warm chocolate chip cookies… Mmmmmmmmm