Before I moved back to Los Angeles from New York, I had this dreaded feeling: If you move home, you're gonna get fat!
At my peak weight, I was about 12 pounds lighter in New York than I am now. There are two reasons for this: 1) I walked every single day in New York and 2) The food in LA is better.
For those of you that think NYC is the culinary capital of the nation, you're wrong. Greasy pizza slices and bagels stuffed with jalapeno cheddar cream cheese were the staples of my diet there. The fact that I lived with a vegetarian, and didn't eat much meat in the house, may have also contributed to my slimming down.
Now, in LA, I have all the factors involved in expansion of the ass size: fresh produce, Mexican food, home cooked meals, and-- here's the topper--
I absolutely knew having a car and living in a city where driving is a way of life would turn me into a little porker. And everytime I look in the mirror, or stand on the scale, I feel like I'm expanding just a little bit more.
Yes, I'm a woman. Yes, I've fallen for that age-old dilemma of worrying about weight. But I haven't joined Jenny Craig or assumed the Slim Fast diet. So calm down.
I've been nudging myself to run my daily errands on foot, but in LA, people who walk are freaks of nature. You can just feel the gaze of everyone strapped in their vehicles right on you. "Is she homeless? Is she the cleaning lady? Is she a poor immigrant?" These are the questions that flit through the minds of drivers in LA. Because, really, why would anyone want to walk?
So as I prepare to strap on my tennis shoes and start my trek to the library, the post office and the copy place, I reconsider my options. New York, San Francisco, Dublin, San Jose, Cancun, Darwin, Paris....and the dream goes on.