shrinky dink

This is very strange. When I was home, meaning Arkansas, I figured out that I needed to go buy some more professional clothes. Back when I had packed for the trip, we had only planned on staying for two days of the conference in Memphis, so I only brought two days of work clothes. Then we decided to stay for all four days.

So I hied myself to Dillards, which was the best available choice but still totally sucked. Wall-to-wall soccer mom clothes. I finally ended up with wheat-colored slacks and crisp white shirts, my usual standby. I tried stuff on and my usual sizes did not.fit.at.all. So I ended up with larger stuff, and marveled that I had managed to gain that much road weight.

Now we've been back for two weeks, and all of that stuff is two sizes too big. The shirt I thought was fitted is gaping at the waist, and when I lie down, there's a three-finger gap in the waist of the pants. I haven’t been dieting or anything. So is Southern food that full of sodium, that I could retain that amount of water? Did I spontaneously gain and lose ten pounds? I’m not going to get on the scale right now, so hell if I know. But it is irritating to have $180 worth of brand-new clothes that don’t fit.

mobile

So I’m working on becoming more self-propelled and less reliant on engines to get me where I want to go. That’s gotta be better all the way around — for me, the environment, the city, etc etc. A friend of mine from undergrad and master’s work was all about this and I was entirely less than interested at the time (partly because it’s a very impractical thing in Arkansas, which is only set up for cars). But the Twin Cities are better set up for this sort of transportation, the weather here is excellent during the summer, and I’m at a place in my life where I want to be outside and moving around. (I really, really, don’t want to be inside a gym right now.) So there you go.

The thing is, I can’t jump in whole-hog because of the ankle. Gotta let it work up to whatever I want it to do. So I’m starting with walking while I think about what kind of bike I want. The campus I’m working on this summer is made for lots of walking. It’s pretty easy to get around on the campus bus system, but it’s just as easy to walk, and sometimes quicker now that the busses are on summer schedule. Last week, my goal was to park in the back lot every day and walk to my office, then across campus to the library, and then back to my car. I only ended up going to the library on one or two days, but I did park and walk every day. (Part of that is because I’m getting used to my first-ever pair of orthotics, and was warned not to go too far at first.) I have no idea how far it is back and forth. Saturday the husband and I spent the afternoon walking the maze of skyways in downtown Minneapolis, and I know we covered several miles then. I should take my pedometer this week.

I remember Diet Girl’s idea of mini-missions from awhile back — assigning yourself little things that will develop new habits that will add up. Last week my goal was to walk in from the far lot every day. This week I’ll wear my pedometer and add stairs. And I’ll keep researching bikes while I wait for the check for some freelancing I did to show up.

drop the needle in the groove

So between the end of coursework and a then a 16-day vacation, I pretty much undid all the weight loss from the spring.

Not all is lost, though: we rarely ate fast food on the trip, preferring instead to eat actual things. The problem is that Actual Things in the South aren’t necessarily healthy. I had forgotten how hard it is to eat vegetarian there. I wasn’t particularly trying, since I wasn’t going to pass up my yearly chance for decent catfish, gumbo, barbecue, and etoufee. But there were some days when I didn’t want it and was out with friends at Thai restaurants, and everything on the menu had meat in it. Tofu wasn’t even listed as an option. I asked for it at one place and ended up with four little cubes in a big plate of pad thai that was more like peanut butter linguini. The second time (in a different state), I didn't even ask. Just ordered green chicken curry, which required an interrogation by the waiter, who wanted to know if I was aware of what I’d ordered. (Yes. I eat it every other week, just usually without meat.) Two colleagues noted that Memphis is a hard place for a Jew or a vegetarian to eat, and I suppose they’re right. I ate lots of greens and black-eyed peas, but they all had some form of pork in them. The squash comes loaded with butter, and the okra is usually fried. (I’m the only person I know these days who likes boiled okra.) So I ate things that had some decent nutritional content, but they also came loaded with fat. No matter — I was happy, and I was conscious of what I was doing.

When we got back and finally ventured to the grocery store, all I was interested in was the produce section. And then this morning I had to go to the Farmer’s Market for the first time this year, and came home with more baby bok choy and tomatoes than was reasonable. The campus I’m working out of this summer is just made for a ton o’walking, and I’m getting closer to buying a bike (but ain’t there yet). My job (and the future of my career) depends on a large amount of ass-sitting this summer, but I’m going to work in some outdoor exercise whenever I can.