Anchovies and Sweaty Socks

Let me go ahead and apologize for any and all references to the word “anchovy”, including the title of this post. I’m having a ‘thing’ with that word right now. Ahem.

You see, it all started when Roman sent me a text this morning. He was trying to be sweet, but his phone had other intentions. “You are beautiful and anchovy, and I love you!!!” I text him back saying that I was glad I am an anchovy and I loved him too. He replied that he meant to say “amazing” instead of “anchovy”, but it was too late. The obsession with the word anchovy had already begun. Until further notice, Roman’s name is now “anchovy”. There is also a really great chance that I will change the beginning of words to make some sort of reference to the word anchovy as well. Example: I hope you have a great, anchovian day! My anchovy husband is going to want to kick his phone for the auto-correct calling me anchovy by the end of this week. Okay fine, not really. What will really happen is we will be hysterically laughing every time we incorporate the word into a sentence because we still act like children every so often….sometimes most of the time.

So you may be wondering, what does sweaty socks have to do with anchovies? Nothing at all. I just wanted anchovies to be in the title of my post, because anchovies are the best thing since sliced bread. Unless that sliced bread is made with anchovies, and then they’re equal.

And I digress……I was really just going to update everybody on what’s going on with this whole “clean eating” thing.

Anchovy Roman and I discussed everything last night. We came to the conclusion that we have not concluded on anything yet. Yes, very adult-like of us. Here are the two main issues we are having:

1) We are still broke. Anchovy Roman has not yet found a job and buying mostly fruits and vegetables will get very expensive, very fast. The couple on that website I talked about yesterday said they spend almost $120 a week on groceries. A week! I spend $150 a month! Now I’m sure they buy certain things that are pricier and there are probably ways that I can cut corners, but I’m worried that we won’t really be able to afford to do this until Roman finds his full-time job.

2) Anchovy Roman has a black hole in his stomach. No really, he does. That man weighs 140 pounds. He’s weighed between 135 and 140 the entire time I’ve known him. Yet he eats enough for three people. You may laugh, but I am not kidding. It’s like he has a tapeworm or something. So I worry that with his high metabolism, he’s just not going to be able to stay full. Granted, eating clean does not mean stop eating meat, but I just have a lot of questions on what type of stuff he should eat in order to keep him fuller longer that will A) not be gross and B) not be the same food every single day. So I’m going to talking with that couple from the website and see what kind of response they come back with.

So for right now, we haven’t really made a decision. Well, I guess we’ve made half of a decision. We’ve decided that we would like to try this out, but we aren’t sure how to go about it just yet.

Okay, so now for the sweaty socks. I have been wanting to go down to the gym here at my place of work-age for quite some time now. Short run-down: when I got married two years ago, I wore a size 5 jean and weighed 125 pounds. My current weight now is 140 pounds and my size 8 jeans no longer fit. Yikes! Thank you late-night snacks during college that consisted of cookies and coffee. So, now that college is over and I have more free time on my hands I’ve been wanting to go to the gym and speak with the trainer and the nutritionist on what I need to do to get whipped back into shape. Otherwise, I need to go shopping for new clothes, and seeing as how the trainer and nutritionist is free, I figure it’d be best if I just lost that “College 15”.

Gyms scare me y’all. They smell like sweaty socks. And there is always some old guy in there that looks at you funny. And lifting weights is hard. And I am a chicken. Which is why I’ve avoided that building like the plague for almost a year now. Until today. (insert dramatic-themed movie music here)

I went down there during my lunch break to see what I needed to do to get started. I actually found out later in the conversation that I was speaking with the nutritionist, so she went ahead and gave me her hours and told me to make an appointment. I am supposed to come back at four this afternoon to meet with the trainer and get all my introductory stuff out of the way and develop my training plan, then I will set up an appointment with the nutritionist.

This is where the clean-eating thing comes in. I figured it would be a good idea to actually talk to a real-life certified nutritionist on what I need to eat. I want her opinion on this clean eating concept. I want to see what kind of nutritional knowledge she has that might help me to not be so tired all the time.

I am actually sort of excited. The little person inside me is nervous as all get out because now I’ve committed to something that is going to make me work hard and force me to go inside of a building with weight lifting machines and sweaty-sock smells. But I’m putting duct tape over that little person’s mouth and I’m going to be a big girl and go back to that gym at four o’clock this afternoon and start my life as a much healthier, stronger me.

I just hope the nutritionist doesn’t mention anything about eating anchovies, because that will cause me to burst into uncontrollable laughter and she will think I’m completely out of my mind.

“‘I have the right to do anything,’ you say-but not everything is beneficial. “I have the right to do anything”-but not everything is constructive.”    ~1 Corinthians 10:23

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