SAA Ep. #20: Calorie Nazi

I have a bad habit of slipping into bad habits (see what I did there?). Recently, I discovered another bad habit I picked up. Oddly enough, it was a bad habit that came out of a good habit. My problem, as usual, is that I am seldom able to find a good balance. If I'm to succeed in something, I usually have to be super disciplined. Sometimes, this discipline spills over into my social life and starts annoying people.

Last year, I started counting calories because I decided I was sick of being fat. Sure, I fell off the wagon for a while...and gained back a lot of weight over Thanksgiving and Christmas, but I picked it back up again for the obligatory New Year's Resolutions. It works for me, but as I said, I have to be super disciplined. None of this "moderation" stuff works for me. I mean, I can limit myself to a couple of pieces of chocolate a day--I guess that's moderate. But if I were to go to a buffet--especially one with a dessert bar, we'd have a problem. I don't know when to say no, so I have to tell myself no beforehand.

And that means I have to know the calories in everything I eat before I eat it.

So last week one of my preschool kids had a birthday party, and the mom brought donuts...and not just any donuts. Krispy Kremes, the ONE DONUT TO RULE THEM ALL. I was going to politely refuse, but the mom put the beautiful donut on a plate and handed it to me. I had to accept. I took one bite, just one bite, of the glazed Precious. Oh, but once I had tasted the Donut of Power, I could not stop. Was I consuming it, or was it consuming me?

I skipped my lunch and one of my snacks that day to compensate, and the SECOND I got home, I turned on the computer and Googled "glazed Krispy Kreme donut calories." I had to know how much damage I had done.

Turns out, the Donut of Power was only 30 calories over the protein bar I was going to eat for lunch. It fit fairly easily into my diet. It fit so easily that I went back and had ANOTHER donut on Sunday. I'll probably go back and have another one sometime this week. Sure, there's very little protein or anything else healthy about a donut, even if the calories are relatively low, but Ruthums wants her Precioussss.

Don't start calling me Ruthums.

So anyway, when I looked up the calorie info for the donut, my roommate was sitting nearby. I started telling her about how many calories were in different kinds of donuts. Apparently, this stuff fascinates me now. I'd probably rattled off the calorie info for about seven different kinds of donuts before she finally said, "Ruth. Stop. Nobody cares."

She is right. Nobody cares. Except for me. It's because I've turned into a calorie nazi, and I didn't even realize it. Without any warning whatsoever, I can change from socially awkward superhero into a calorie counting nazi jerkface that annoys you by making you actually think about what you're eating.

I've even developed an unhealthy relationship with healthy spaghetti squash. Why? Because 9 ounces only has about 100 calories, and there's so much you can do with it. Seriously, I'm eating it like five nights a week now. Sunday, I put some 60 calorie spaghetti sauce on it. Yesterday, I also put spaghetti sauce on it (I love spaghetti). Tonight, I really shook things up and put peanut sauce on it--I even mixed in some chopped up spaghetti squash seeds to make it seem like there were peanuts in my squash noodles.

9 ounces of real pasta has a lot more than 100 calories in it, but you probably don't care.

My birthday is coming up, and I'm not even going to be able to get over my calorie nazi-ness for that. The family I sit/nanny for wants to take me out for a birthday dinner--already my brain is screaming, "OH NO! Where can I go? What can I eat? Calories are everywhere!" I want to try one of those Chick-fil-a banana pudding milkshakes on my birthday, but I know how many calories are in it and I'm going to have to share it with someone. I'm not even talking halves. I'm only drinking 1/3 of that bad boy. I want to go do something with my friends for my birthday, but I am terrified of anything that has to do with calories I'm not in control of.

...is this sad and pathetic? Probably.

...but at least my jeans fit...

...actually, they're a little loose.

I call it the donut diet (don't I wish...).

(Just so you know, I didn't include the number of calories in the Donut of Power because I figure that most people just don't want to know. If you know, then you can go Google it yourself. I mean, what do I look like? Your personal Google Slave? Sheesh.)

SAA Ep. # 19: Helpful, too Late

I'm not the most helpful person in the world, but I do like to help people out when there's something I can do. There are times, however, when I am just not as helpful as I might be.

Sometimes I get a case of the lazies and tell my friends I can't help them move because I'm tired. Now, this is truthful, but I'm not so tired that I can't help out. I'm basically being a lazy, no good friend.

Sometimes, I'm more than willing to help out, but I have to work when they need me. This is frustrating, but it kind of comes with the whole "working three jobs" territory. Chances are, if you call me last minute, I'm not going to be able to help.

Other times, people ask me to help out with stuff when I'm not the best person for the job. "Hey, Ruth, I could really use some help with my calculus homework." "Hey, random person with calculus homework, I'm not your guy. How 'bout letting me edit your English paper, though, eh?"

Then there's the situations like the one that occurred last night:

My friends and I are all standing in the foyer at church, just chatting. All of the sudden, out of the blue, and completely without warning (I think this might be a little too dramatic for this blog), a white minivan pulls up under the overhead awning thingy. Actually, I'm not sure if it's called an awning. Is it a parapet? A canopy? I'm not sure. It's the little thingy people drive under when unloading their kids.

And sure enough, one of my friends hops out of the car and starts going through the difficult process of unloading her kids. She has four of them, one of which is still a baby, and the oldest is about 6. So my friends and I were watching her, talking about how great she is with all her kids. We talked about how cute her kids are. We talked about how much we love her family.

Then, after about 3 minutes of watching this awesome mommy unload her four kids from the van, I was struck with a brilliant idea. "Maybe we should go out there and help her."

By the time I've thought of this, the mom entered the church with four kids in tow. It's not that I didn't want to be helpful, but for some reason, it just occurred to me to be helpul...a little too late.

I kinda sorta redeemed myself by watching her kids while she went to park the van, but *shrug*, I blew it.

Things like this happen to me all the time--probably because I'm not as considerate as I might be. I'm not sure if that's a symptom of the social awkwardness, or if it's just a symptom of good ol' fashioned human stupidity.

There are times when my roommate starts bringing in armloads of groceries. After her third trip, I get the bright idea to help her, just in time for her to say, "Oh, that was the last load." I offer to help the lead teacher in the preschool classroom where I teach, as she is cutting out stacks of construction paper butterflies. I ask her just as she is cutting the last one.

It just doesn't occur to me to help until it's too late. Maybe I need to be more like this one ultra observant and considerate roommate I had in college, who would hand me one of her post-it notes or pencils before I was able to grab one of my own from my desk. Wait...no...she was really annoying, actually. Helpful, but annoyingly so.

But it's my own fault I got that roommate, because after a less than satisfactory experience with a roommate who was extremely inconsiderate, I spent the summer praying: "Dear Lord, please give me a considerate roommate. That's all I want. I just want her to be considerate."

God does have a sense of humor.

I got a roommate. I got a considerate roommate. She was so considerate it drove me nuts. One night I remember shouting at her, "Why do you have to be so stinkin' considerate all the time?"

She thought I was crazy, and maybe I am.