Wednesday Weigh in (week 6)

I just finished reading Julie and Julia and it was fabulous. You know, the book I wasn't going to read. Then strolling one day before work I found a used hard cover copy for $5.00. How could I possibly resist? Hard cover!! I was quickly drawn into the world of french cooking, aka cooking with butter. Lots and lots of butter. Cooking and I go together like oil and water. My mother loves to tell how every time she would try to teach me how to cook, I would smile and say, "Oh silly Mummy, I'm going to marry rich and we're going to have a chef. I don't need to know how to cook!" and then plant a big kiss on her cheek before wandering out of the kitchen in my own little (imaginary) world. As luck would have it, I have avoided a) getting married b) being rich and c) having a chef at my beck and call. Oh, and let's not forget d) still not a fan of cooking... So, needless to say, this book is the antithesis of me. Julie says that food is sexy. Cooking is sexy. Specifically, she thinks calf liver sauteed in butter is sexy. I'm not sure I agree. If some guy I was dating pulled out a calf liver, I'm pretty sure I'd mutter some excuse as I ran for the door, pushing anything that got in my way. I did have a boyfriend once who made me rack of lamb for Valentine's Day. It was delicious. He also took two trips to the ER that day to sew his finger back on when he cut it off not once, but twice as he was preparing the roasted baby potatoes. It was a labour of love that I didn't truly appreciate. He was too needy. If I had married him, I surely would have been knocked up for the greater portion of my child bearing years. And if I had to guess, I would have spent most of my time in the kitchen. On a farm. In the country. But my point is that marrying him for his rack (of lamb) never once crossed my mind. I loved the book because it surpasses food. In the end, it's not simply a journey through a cook book. It's a journey of self discovery. And that, my friends, is universal. Who hasn't found themselves near tears on a subway in the rain (you haven't? Oh...) thinking "What now?" There's got to be more to life than this. Julie's passion became her savior. It became her answer to the life she dreamed of, the life she was destined to live. I can relate to that. I can aspire to that. I might suck shit at cooking. I might cause stove fires more often than your average 31 year old (okay...3, but who's counting...) The thought of cooking my way through Julia Childs "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" actually causes cold sweats and panic attacks, but the thought of finding me is exciting. Seriously, MtAoFC...looks like a string of cuss words to me... And the absolute best thing. Googling Julie/Julia last night I found that Julie Powell still blogs. She blogs! It's devastating to me that when a book ends, so do the characters. I mourn the loss of them, but not my Julie. I can visit her. Daily. Oh how I wanted to write on her blog like a crazy-stalker fan. But I'm not just a fan. I'm a kindred spirit. We're the same. We both blog. We're both Bloggers. We're colleagues. Ya, so that's a little freaky, right? Anyways, it was a great reminder that if you're asking yourself, "Is this all there is?" that it most certainly isn't. Have the courage to do something fabulous. Have the faith to believe you will succeed. And "bollocks" to the naysayers. I believe in you. Oh, and along the lines of food...weight loss: 7lbs (WOOOOHOOOO) current weight: 156 What's that? You didn't see a weigh in for week 5? Hmmmm, that's odd. Alright, fine. Week 5 was birthday week for Q...cake and ice cream and hot dogs, oh my. Self perseverance told me not to even think of getting on the scale.