Betty Lou's Winter Buffet: Chapter Two

Well, well, well... what have we here? A winter buffet? Why am I not surprised that you sneaked up on me like that? It's just like you to be all quiet and lurky and then to pop off the calendar the day before. I predicted that I'd have nothing to wear and I was right! I knew that I'd feel all large and unattractive... even more so than usual... on the day you'd come to town. I have a way of knowing these things. I even knew that mapping out my weight loss five weeks ago wouldn't do any good and that I'd panic the day of no matter what. Don't you ever learn?

Is it that you don't care about me? Is that it? You know that I'm the type to just go anyway, right? Even though I'll feel all ugly and there will cameras there and everyone else will look all nice and be having a great time. Oh, I'll go, alright. Are you kidding me? I never get to go anywhere, so I'll go. And sure, I'll feel self conscience at first. And I'll avoid the cameras at all costs. And tomorrow or the next day when the photos go up on the company portal, I'll look through them in horror and, yeah, you might be able to spot the back of my big fat head in some of them. But, other than that, you'll have no evidence of me there.

After I'm there for a while and I'm chatting with all my work friends, many of whom I hardly see anymore because I'm always high-tailing it home to pick up kids at the end of the day, I might forget that I felt uncomfortable when I first arrived. A little music, a little champagne, an hors d'ouvre here and there. I'll start to have a good time. But at some point, maybe in the ladies room mirror, maybe in a reflection on the way out of the building, I'll see what I forgot about. And it won't be pretty. I'll see why I didn't want to go to the stupid winter buffet in the first place. I'll also see a reminder of why I'm on this dang journey to Shamrock. Because I so don't want to be the most uncomfortable person at the party anymore.

Betty Lou's Winter Buffet: Chapter One

I just received an invitation to my company's annual winter party. This year, we're calling it a winter "buffet" because "party" is seems to festive considering what's happening in our industry--our competitors, vendors, and customers have laid of many, many people...we're very fortunate that there's no talk of that within my company. We're so grateful to have secure jobs that many in our office wanted to skip the party altogether and maybe donate the money we'd spand to those in need. Instead, we're spending less on the event itself and the company will donate the savings in the form of a matching gift donation to a local food bank. Nice huh? So what's my beef with the whole thing? Only that they have to call it a buffet and that I have to think about it for the next 5 weeks.

Let me explain. For the next 5 weeks, the thought that this "buffet" is on the horizon is not going to leave my mind. I will imagine all the things I'd love to wear but that would look horrible on me, a millions times. Every time I have a day that's even slightly off plan, I'll think of this "buffet" and stress out. I'll start a countdown in my head...4 weeks to lose X pounds...2 weeks to lose x pounds...only 1 week to lose x pounds...oh no, the thing is in two days!... today's the day! I don't think I want to go. Now is that any way to think of a party-that's-called a-buffet?

And all this leading to a "buffet" where clearly the goal is to eat. So stress about eating for 5 weeks only to go somewhere where, by definition, you eat. Seems silly, doesn't it?

That countdown in my head? It's been here the whole time I've been typing this. I'm telling you. It's not going to go away. It's going to haunt me in my sleep and follow me into the shower and join me on my commute. It will be my bedtime story to myself and the first thing to greet me in the morning. Really? you ask. Pretty much. And then you're probably saying, Betty Lou, you shouldn't mess up your new healthy way of living because of a party (or buffet or whatever). And I would agree, but there's no accounting for the things my brain will do to me. The most I can do, is try to ignore myself and forge ahead.

So there you have it. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go map this whole thing out on calendar (just kidding).