It's in the Genes

Well, I definitively figured out why I’m fat.  Let me set the stage.

My family gathered this week in Florida for my Great Aunt’s 75^th birthday.  Last night those of us who had arrived got together for dinner at my grandmother’s place.  It hadn’t been ten minutes before the childhood stories started pouring out of those of the older generations.  Thirty seconds into story hour the focus of the convo turned to food.  The next two hours sped by as each family member regaled the group with vivid descriptions of each and every favorite meal that had passed across the family table over the years.  Stories so graphic, you could literally taste the delectable treats and feel the lard appearing on your thighs.

As I was falling asleep last night I reflected on the evening that I was fortunate to be a part of.  In addition to feeling tremendously fortunate to have this time with my family, it became more apparent than ever what a huge undertaking I have chosen.  In deciding to rework my lifestyle, I am not only tackling my demons, I am also flying in the face of generations upon generations of talented eaters.   I was born into seeing food as both a blessing as a curse, just as the women in my family have for as long as we have been a family.

I am pleased to report that in addition to the traditional main activity of eating, we have thus far been successful at weaving exercising into the itinerary for this week.  For this, and for the time with my family, I am truly thankful.