I Have A Dream

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom [from] fries in the history of this blog.

Five score years ago, a hopeful Canadian, in whose girth cast a shadow you could stand in, signed up for a gym membership. This momentous decision came as a great beacon light of hope to her journal, which had been taking the brunt of her frustrations where her weight was concerned. It came with an optimistic outlook that the dawn, filled with her failed attempts at maintaining a healthy lifestyle, would soon be broken.

But in the present time, she must face the tragic fact that her girth still remains. Five years later, her life is still crippled by the pants that will not be buttoned around her waist. Five years later, her cute skirts live on a lonely island of forgotten outfits in the midst of a vast ocean filled with Fashion Fridays. Five years later, the Canadian finds herself an exile in her own closet.

In a sense, I have come to this place to cash a cheque. When the architects of the gym built the magnificent walls that would encompass the elliptical and the treadmill, they were granting access to any human that would want to live long enough to bear an heir. This accessibility was a promise that all people would be guaranteed the inalienable rights of health, longevity and the pursuit of heightened sex drives.

It would be fatal for this Canadian to overlook the urgency of the matter at hand. This obsession with fries will not pass until there is an invigorating, and just as tasty, replacement. Two-thousand nine is not an end, but a beginning. Those of you who hoped that this Canadian just needed to blow off some steam on her blog [and will, therefore, be content once she hits publish] will have a rude awakening if her mind-frame returns to its previous destructive thought patterns.

But there is something that I must say to my audience who stands on the warm threshold of google reader which leads into the palace of my webspace. In the process of gaining losing this weight, one must not be guilty of any McDonald's meals roadblocks that are in the way.

Go back to the food pyramid, go back to the aerobics classes, go back to yoga and pilates, go back to tae-bo, go back to the organic food aisles of our grocery stores, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of chicken McNuggets.

I say to you today, my freaders, that in spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the moment, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the Jane Fonda dream of having your cake and eating it too.

I have a dream that one day my ass will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "Baby got back."

I have a dream that one day on the golden hills of the McDonald's emblem, the creators of the Big Mac and the creators of the Nutrition Label will be able to sit down together at a table laced with low cholesterol and high fibre.

I have a dream that one day even Taco Bell, of the "yo quiero" mentality, sweltering with the heat of enchiladas and burritos, will be transformed into an oasis of good eating that won't make your insides shrivel up and die.

I have a dream that my four bags of Cheetos will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the colour of their Styrofoam (seriously is this even edible?) like skin but by the content of their empty calories.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every carrot stick shall be exalted, every hostess cupcake and chocolate chip cookie shall be made sparse, that the ridged chips will be made smooth, and the spinach dips will be made fat-free.

And if my body is to resemble a great hour glass figure, this must become true. So let iTunes playlists ring from the prodigious earphones of iPods. Let iTunes playlists ring from the mighty hill climb setting on the treadmill. Let iTunes playlists ring from the heights of the stair master!

Let iTunes playlists ring from the ab machines!

Let iTunes playlists ring from the curvaceous peaks of barbells!

But not only that: let iTunes playlists ring from the made-of-stone mountain of flesh that is your personal trainer!

Let iTunes playlists ring from the home-made juice bar section of the gym!

When we let iTunes playlists ring, when we let it ring from every recumbent and every stationary bike, from every step class and every kick-boxing class, we will be able to speed up that day when all of your clothes: halter tops and tank tops, short shorts and short skirts, tight jeans and cleavage shirts, will be able to join thread counts and sing in the words of the old exercise mantra, "You can have your cake! You can have your cake! Work your ass off and, thank God Almighty, you can have your cake ... and eat it too!"

In other words, I joined a gym today.

The above "speech" was inspired by this. As if you didn't already know.

Happy Martin Luther King Day.