Ciao, Mio Caro

The caption on the right should read: “Non-Exercise (Time Kim spends at a desk working two jobs so she can pay her own health insurance costs. Ironic, no?).”

I spend way too much time at the desk and way too little time getting any measurable exercise. And it shows. In the past two years, I have gained twenty pounds. I plugged my numbers into one of those little BMI calculators on the Internet and it spat out a “26.” Not obese, but definitely over the limit.

Now I appreciate everyone who tells me I look good. I appreciate all the guys who tell me I’m sexy. I appreciate it, I do. But the scale isn’t lying and the zipper on my nice shorts ain’t gonna hold if I try to force it closed.

I can understand why some people think I haven’t gained much weight. I didn’t suddenly grow a huge gut. My butt hasn’t ballooned. I have some muscle tone. Still, I can tell where I am a little rounder, a little fuller. And when I put on certain bras, my cups runneth over.

Lack of exercise isn’t the only culprit in my expansion, though. Since I’ve never been on a diet in my life, I really had no idea what I’ve been eating. So I spent a few days this week tracking it, writing everything down. Everything being calories, fat grams, carbohydrates, and protein content of everything I’ve consumed.

Holy frijoles.

The biggest surprise: my favorite sandwich at Panera Bread. While I realized that the Italian Combo, a variety of meats and cheeses on ciabatta was not actually good for me, I had no clue how fattening it really is. This bad boy packs 1050 calories, 486 of them from the 54 grams of fat in it. Of course it’s nice that it also contains my daily requirement of protein, since if I eat one it’s nothing but iceberg lettuce for me for the rest of the day.

Ciao, Italian Combo. You are so good; I’ve thoroughly enjoyed you. No, no, no, it’s not you. It’s me. I’ve changed. I’m sure you’ll find another soon. Really. Take care.