Yesterday was kind of an awkward reminder of why it’s been so hard for my husband and I to lose weight.
Context: My husband and I are both trying to drop some major pounds in advance of a way delayed honeymoon to Thailand (3 years delayed!). He’s 100 pounds overweight and I’m about 50 pounds, so I’m playing cruise director and managing his meals, helpfully reminding him to make time for a rowing machine session…
Anyway, I convinced DH to go on a 3 mile walk with me to get to a healthy restaurant in Venice Beach. It was sunny in our neighborhood, so I thought it was a good day for a walk. Thing is, it got colder and colder the closer we got. Then it was downright foggy and like 10 degrees colder than we were dressed for.
We get to the vegan restaurant (YES – a vegan restaurant, even though we we’re not vegan). DH is wearing his fave camo hat(!) and is feeling super uncomfortable amongst a bunch of stereotypical West LA rich people who just breezed in for lunch after Pilates class. They are svelte. We are… NOT. Like, seriously. I didn’t see anyone overweight in the entire bustling restaurant besides us. Sheesh.
Then, we find out that there’s a 25-30 minute wait. DH gets kind of grumpy. Not only did I get him to walk 3 miles with me to a vegan restaurant, but we had to wait outside in the fog to get seated.
SIGH. I felt kind of bad.
The food was AH-MAZING, don’t get me wrong. It was just the whole experience of getting to the reward of yummy and healthy food felt while surrounded by the beautiful thin Los Angeles crowd was like a heavy handed metaphor for our weight struggles.