Wanted: Exercise Buddy…Food Police…Hypnotist…Sensei…(Surely, I am not asking for too much.)

Okay, my waistline is expanding again. (blink)  And, something is wrong with my thighs…

…they’re on my body.

This all started way, way, way before my Summer Restaurant Week explorations.  Actually, it started last summer — a year ago — when my slackness kicked into high gear (i.e. not going to the gym, not exercising on my own, not watching my food portions, not getting to bed before midnight…).  I flaked out on yoga.  Lord knows I tried. sigh.  But, it just wasn’t for me.  I was a big, fat, failure.  But let me tell you…Yoga is not as easy as you think it is!

Then things got nuts during the first four months of the year at work.  (I swear to you, they are chip, chip, chipping away at my life.)  I had no time, no energy, no discipline.  Enter spring:  I should have been enjoying the weather (but it wasn’t the greatest — Mother Nature was my enemy) and so I sank deeper and deeper into Weight-Gain-ville.  Oh, I could tell things were getting bad, even before I made the Skinny Jeans Purchase of 2012 (remember that craziness?), but I obviously was delusional and didn’t care.

I need an intervention.

So, as I’m sitting here typing away, night after night (like tonight) — yep, sedentary on the couch, watching the boob tube, I look down at the bellies.  Oh, sure, I know what you’re saying: ‘What bellies?’ See, that’s the thing, I camouflage my poundage.  (Yeah, I’m slick that way.)

But the scale and cellulite don’t lie, people. Nope.

Based on my convo with the woman in the white coat who I don’t go to see unless absolutely, positively necessary (which means, when I see her, she gives me that look), I am now…get this…

overweight — technically speaking.

When you’re a 5′ pint sizer, you should only be a certain weight and with the type of frame I have that’s another concern.  I’m not ‘big boned-ed’.  Hence, I should only fall in a certain weight range.  The exercise problem is a BIG problem.  The food intake — off-the-charts…(food is my weakness…smh).

The cold, hard truth: I need to be centered and focused.  I need people in my corner.  I need Zen, and all that New Age crap along with tough love (and according to the woman in the nail salon the other night, I need regular massages because after a 5 minute rub, her diagnosis: my entire back is filled with knots — and, of course, I tend to listen to small, Korean women in nail salons).

So, I’m putting it out to the universe…

Wanted: Exercise Buddy…Food Police…Hypnotist…Sensei…(Surely, I am not asking for too much.)

Or am I?

The U.S. versus Jamaica. Track and Field at the Olympics? Oh, no. Polo. Polo? Yep, Polo.

Life is all about getting out of your comfort zone sometimes and doing something different.  So…we went galloping into Newport, Rhode Island…Actually, it was Portsmouth, but let’s not get technical.

The long 3 1/2 hour ride to Portsmouth, Rhode Island wasn’t so bad after all, even with the never-ending rain (I’m not kidding) and a stop in Fall River, Massachusetts — the “home base” for the weekend.  Seems Newport is the place, so actually getting a place in the place is like winning the lottery during the summer.  We had to settle for 20 minutes into a neighboring state.  No biggie.

What had us schlepping to the north-north-east?

An epic battle.

The U.S. versus Jamaica. Track and Field at the Olympics? Oh, no. Polo. Polo? Yep, Polo.

We went to watch polo.  And by “we”, I mean a few cousins, The Road Warrior, The Shopping Lawyer, The Diva and her peeps.  Unfortunately, Mother Nature had every intention to ruin my grand plans of stylin’ in wicked platforms, fabulous romper and an obnoxiously large sun hat.  I mean, it didn’t just drizzle.  It rained — and rained — and rained.  smh.

My whole polo-watching fashion ensemble turned from bang to fizzle even before departure.  After checking the weather reports on Friday, I knew the hat was pointless.  There wouldn’t be a lick of sun.  The 5″ platform wedges would be both silly and completely ruined.  And I was right — so I left them all at home.  I’m now looking at flats that I went stomping in a soaking, muddy, grassy field (oh, you stomp divots during half time at the polo grounds — it’s the thing to do).  They’re a wreck and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to salvage them. sigh.

Sitting under an umbrella during the pouring rain while watching a polo match in Newport (Portsmouth), Rhode Island, wasn’t how I’d envisioned the whole experience.  Alas, there was eye candy (once the helmets were off, believe me, I had a whole, new perspective)…

…oh, and there was also Girl Power.  Who knew one of the Jamaican polo players was female?  And she was one tough broad.  Shout outs and Big Ups to tough broads!

I managed to take a number of not-so-soggy pics of the adventure.  I’m only sharing a few.  It was tough getting action shots.  Polo can be be a very fast sport at times.  Not so easy catching charging polo ponies in the middle of a rain storm.

P.S.  The U.S. team won.  There you have it.  (I guess after the stir the Jamaican track and field athletes caused during the Olympics, it’s fine…there’s always next year. I’m all for friendly competition.)  A two-in-a-row victory for the Jamaican polo team was not to be.  And if you didn’t figure it out already, I was squarely on the side of Team Jamaica.  It’s just the way it had to be.