The Princeton library system defines "stalking" as "a hunt for game carried on by following it stealthily or waiting in ambush." So maybe I'm not, technically speaking, a stalker. I'm about as stealthy as a baby calf in a china shop. And not lying in wait to ambush anything. But I gotta say, I do love me some Ruby Gettinger. If you haven't seen Ruby on The Style Network, you don't know what you've been missing. For the last three seasons, this Savannah, Georgia, belle has been chronicling her journey of losing almost 400 pounds.  Here are the top 10 reasons I heart Ruby:

1. She once weighed a little over 700 pounds and is now down to 324...a 10 year journey. OMG! PS...if anyone ever complains to me about losing the "last 10 pounds" again, I can't promise I won't slap them. Or gift them all three seasons on DVD.

2. Ruby takes her baby, a Yorkshire Terrier named Foxy, everywhere with her. Everywhere. Think about the person you love most in your life and how excited you get introducing people to that person...that is the level of excitement Ruby has when she introduces people to Foxy. A woman after my own Willoughby-lovin'-heart! Dog moms unite!

3. The first thing Ruby wants to do when she reaches her goal weight...is take a bubble bath. (Notice the link to her page in my sidebar.)

4. Ruby went on vacation and LOST weight! WTH?!? I go on vacation and have to pay for two seats on the return trip. PS...not just a little...she lost 13 pounds in Australia.

5. In Australia, Ruby climbed the Sydney Harbour Bridge. At over 300 pounds, in 3 1/2 hours...she climbed the largest steel-arch bridge in the world. With her hot Aussie trainer throwing up in the background. It was priceless. And made me want to book my Sydney Harbour bridge climb immediately! Except I wanna do the night climb they offer. With my hot Australian husband, Curtis Stone. 

6. When Ruby hosted Thanksgiving last year, and her lovable but gluttonous friends decided to make a smorgasbord of sin (fried turkey included), she: A)made her own healthy Thanksgiving fixin's and B)placed post-it note warning labels in each and every dish. To see the table riddled with little paper "fat" and "healthy" flags filled me with glee...and ideas for my next Thanksgiving.

7. Ruby made it through the Last Supper. Not with Jesus...but the ladies from her Ladies Fat Night. You know the Last Supper...the last meal you're ever going to enjoy before you start the first day of the rest of your life? We've all had it. Sometimes many. Many times. Well, when Ruby was preparing to take her friends from Ladies Fat Night to an intensive six day weight loss excursion, the ladies went Last Supper crazy. Nothing but fried food as far as the eye could see. And she didn't touch any of it.

8. Ruby's goal was to get below 300 pounds before the season finale. And just when she was on the verge of hitting that mark, she gained 9 pounds. But she didn't let it derail her. She had a sense of humor about it, along with an impressive amount of determination. I struggle with the same thing...it seems like I take one step forward and two steps back. I, for one, am looking so forward to next season...and to seeing her reach that milestone (and reaching my own).

9. She is from the South! 

10. Besides the Golden Girls, I can't imagine any living room that would be more fun to be in than hers!

So, if by "stalking," you mean waiting in ambush or recreating Jennifer Jason Leigh's role in Single White Female, then no, I'm not. I'm not going to be dying my hair red, trying to pass off my Shih-Tzu as a Yorkie, or spouting off "Rubyisms" anytime soon. But if you define stalking as squealing like a 4th grade girl and squeezing the stuffin' out of somebody if ever you meet, then I make no promises. 

I haven't fallen off the face of the planet! Actually, I've started to write a new post...literally twice this week...and both times my MAC ate my homework. Last night, I was halfway through Attempt #2...a bitter blog post...when Kara called. I've got to stop multi-tasking when I talk to Kara. The last time I missed my exit on I-5 coming back from San Diego and ended up in the ghetto for 45 minutes. (Channeling Elvis)...In the ghettoooooo!

Anyway, 30 minutes into my conversation with the BFF, I went back to save my post embittered and realized I'd somehow closed the window. UGH!

Maybe it was for the best. Maybe it was the universe telling me to stop being bitter. I was waxing sentimental about my youth. Not about how I used to walk a mile to school everyday. In the snow. Uphill both ways. But how easy it was for me to lose weight when I was 15.

Lemme first say this...I don't buy for one second that age has anything to do with metabolism or weight loss. I Zumba-ed with a woman in her late 50's last week who looked like someone had taken her head and attached it to a 20-year-old dancer's body. Seriously...if David Blaine had showed up, I would have been like "Heeeyyyyyy David Blaine, whatya doin' here with your street magic, yo?" 

So if age has nothing to do with it, why was is so freakin' easy to drop it when I was in my blissful youth? I'll tell you why. I was 100% committed. More than committed...I was a teenage girl possessed. It was the first time I'd ever lost weight...and it just NEVER occurred to me that I wouldn't be successful. I worked out every.single.day. I never missed a workout...and sometimes did two. Sometimes that meant waking my 15-year-old self up at 4:30 in the morning. Plus I measured EVERYTHING that went in my mouth. And never cheated. Not even once. Not even with a stick of Juicy Fruit. The temptation wasn't even there. I remember making dozens of Nestle Tollhouse cookies for my driver's ed instructor. I figured if he could risk his life everyday, the least I could do is reciprocate with warm, gooey baked goods. I spent all day in the kitchen...just me, myself and a bowl of cookie dough. And didn't even lick the beaters.  

At that moment in my life...it was effortless. I lost 50 pounds in five months...the fat was there one minute and pretty much gone the next. And every time I got on the scale, I knew I was going to see a number I was excited about. Sure enough...

It sure didn't feel like it at the time, but looking back, I had it pretty easy. My biggest worries were 1) making it through Beowulf and 2)trying to avoid the mean girls in P.E. I didn't have a job, a car payment, or a care in the world. And everyday at exactly 5:30, a mother who smelled like Nina Ricci and sounded like she could read books on tape for a living would magically appear and right every wrong. OMG...I had it so good. Nothing but hope and first kisses and my future in front of me. Of course losing weight was effortless...everything was.

That's it! THAT is what I wish for!!! A return to innocence. Maybe Enigma had the right idea. I'm going to start traipsing through life backwards...until I return to innocence. I really think it's possible (the innocence, not the backwards thing)...to rediscover the pure heart within yourself...the heart that has been untouched by doubt, or bitterness, or the weight of the world and all it's menial responsibility. The heart that hasn't absorbed any of the world's cynicism. The heart that is on FIYAH with possibility and hope and absolute certainty that the thing you want most is attainable. Remember that feeling? When the excitement almost crystallized in the air around you?   

So...I'm shifting my focus. I know I said I was going to talk about stalking this post...and I will, next time...but this needed to be said. I'm going to find my effortless 15-year-old self again, people. Thank you, German-born-electronic-sythesized-musical-project! For reminding me. 

For your viewing pleasure:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rk_sAHh9s08

Have you ever broken up with someone...over food? A friend? Or family member? Or a (ahem)...lover?  I think I'm gonna have to break up with a friend. A guy I've known for three years who is EXACTLY like Sheldon on Big Bang Theory. Endearing and funny because of what he isn't...empathetic, humble or skilled at reading social cues. And who always chooses accuracy above tact. In fact, to protect his privacy, let's just call him Sheldon.

Red Flag #1 went up a couple of years ago, when Sheldon and I decided to watch a movie at my house. Which meant a trip to the grocery store for movie snackage. Sheldon picked out a pint of Haagen Dazs. I picked out a package of sugar-free Pepperidge Farm Mint Milanos. Halfway into the movie, we'd both polished off our respective vices. Which is why, as the credits rolled, I was shocked when Sheldon looked over at my empty bag and scolded me. In his most chastising tone, he spewed "I can't believe you ate that whole bag, EJ!" As he was holding the dead Haagen Dazs carcass in his own hand. I don't remember what happened next because I suddenly had tunnel vision as every fiber of my being was screaming "Get outta my house!" I didn't say it, of course, but if looks could kill, he would have been buried next to his Haagen Dazs.

My reaction was so strong...and vile...I was sure he would never make the same mistake again. Until he did. At the wedding I recently attended in San Diego. But before I get to that, let me give you a little back story. Y'all remember my Olive Garden epiphany? When I went to the OG with a friend and read the nutrition info for the first time? And found out, to my horror, that my usual meal of two bowls of soup, 3 or 4 breadsticks and the sugar-free desert was 1,660 calories! After that, I cut out ALL breadsticks (farewell, garlicky sticks of gladness) and the blankety blank sugar-free desert, and pledged myself to two bowls of pasta e fagioli and an unsweetened ice tea with extra ice, please. For the grand total of 260 calories-per-chain-Italian-restaurant-visit. I was SO proud of myself for being informed and for finding a way to eat healthier even when eating out.  

Well, Sheldon didn't agree, obviously. The last time we went to the OG together, I proudly ordered my bowl o' fagioli. And flirted with the waiter as Sheldon ordered a 3,600 calorie plate (as I kindly pointed out to him on the leather bound nutrition guide) of pasta. No problem, right? Especially as Sheldon is 6'5" with 15% body fat and a jaw line that could give you a paper cut.

But since that day, the Olive Garden has come up in every.single.conversation between the two of us. As Sheldon goes into full-on-lecture mode about the evils of all things OG. Just when I think it's safe and we're going to spend the evening talking about his new girlfriend with the peach fuzz mustache, here we go again. What was once a bi-weekly or monthly outing has been blown into an argument of epic proportion. And then...on the day of the 7-hour wedding reception/dance off...it all came to a head. When I looked down to see a text from Sheldon that went something like this:

"I've been doing some work for a nutritionist and thought you would like to know that if you eat nutrient dense foods first, you'll fill up faster and won't need to eat junk food."

My reply: "Thank you Sheldon! I've never heard that! You've just changed my life."

Sheldon: "You should watch her video clips online. I think you'd learn a lot from it."

Me: "No thanks. I know all about nutrition."

Sheldon: "Well, if you know better, why do you choose to go to Olive Garden?"

Oh no, you di'int just say that!

The texts spiraled out of control as I said some pretty nasty things. But no remorse or emotion from him. In his true Sheldon way, he sent a few more texts and then ended the conversation with an obtuse and upbeat "I'll see you when you get back!" 

I haven't returned his calls or seen him since. I don't know what to say. I mean, we had this conversation after the Cookiegate incident two years ago. Do I remind him that I minored in Dietetics and Exercise Sport Science in college? That I researched and wrote scripts for an educational film company on those very topics for two years? That I taught nutrition at the high school and college level for a few years after that? Maybe if I explain to him that I've been fat for more than half my life and poured through every book ever written on diet and exercise? 

And then it dawned on me. Sheldon really does think I'm fat because I don't know any better. Because I'm uninformed. I want to shake him and say "Do you think Oprah Winfrey is fat because she doesn't know better?!?"

How do you deal with the people who are convinced...convinced...that being overweight is that simple? That you can just push yourself away from the table? Or stop overeating? Or that you're fat because you don't know any better?  

So, I turn to you, my beloved readers. Who read in California. And Texas. And far-away places like Iowa. And New York and New Jersey. And Germany. And every place in between. What say you? Break up or make up? 

Do you have this same button? And someone in your life who makes you crazy anxious about food? Funny or sad, resolved or un-, past or present...I would LOVE to hear from you. We can start a support group. With t-shirts and everything. On the back they would read "Someone I know went to Haagen Dazs and all I got was this lousy t-shirt." 

Brace yourselves, people. Did you know that the human foot sweats an average of one shot glass a day? Per foot? Blech. There are pros and cons to losing 60 pounds and rejoining society. Pro: Shopping at Nordstrom. No, no...bonding with the shoe salesman at Nordstrom to the point that you consider him your shoe manny. Your "shmanny." You become exclusive. And shmanny calls you on vacation to tell you the exact status of your recent shoe order. Con: Dropping $120 on a pair of shoes when you return from vacay. And being educated by shmanny in the Nordstrom shoe department on the fact that the human foot does, in fact, sweat shot glasses o' sweat every day. Thank you, shmanny. The thrill is officially gone. I just threw up in my mouth a little. And PS...now all I can think about is foot sweat...mine, yours and everyone else's.

Speaking of useless trivia, let's talk pie hole. Did you know that the strongest muscle in the human body is the tongue? And that information didn't come in the form of a pick-up line, although I am totally using it at my upcoming speed dating event. If an awkward moment of silence happens, I'm totally dropping that bomb. Only not in a "How you doin?" tone...more like the kid in Jerry Maguire who delighted in telling people the human head weighs 8 pounds.

No, the tongue trivia came from my string cheese wrapper. Ahhh...string cheese. The low calorie "treat" that now lives in my fridge, alongside the free-range eggs, grapefruit, turkey bacon, eye mask and half-eaten can of Willoughby's dog food. I wish I could say a woman could live on string cheese alone. But I found out on my recent trip home just how fast I would dump string cheese for it's more satisfying alternative: Chick-fil-A.

Now, I've never been Chick-fil-A obsessed. I can take it or leave it. But when you've got a woman whose been subsisting on string cheese and lentil soup for the past few months and add it to the fact that it is a Lubbock, TX, icon...AND their location just happens to be closed for remodeling on the dates you are home, it spells a recipe for potential disaster. The day before I left to go back to L.A., I happened to drive by Chick-fil-A. And what did I see?!? A line of cars around the block and the Chick-fil-A mascot standing in his cow suit on the curb. Trying to process what I was seeing, I could only guess that the place was reopen for business. I don't know what took over my body, but I swerved across two lanes of traffic, with a screamin' mother in the passenger seat and, literally, almost mowed down the guy making minimum wage to sport cow spots and udders for a living. I would have been ashamed, I'm sure. Except I was too busy racing the half-ton Chevy to the next spot in the drive-thru. I won, by the way. And one diet lemonade, 8 piece nuggets, and 300 calories (exactly) later...I was on the road again. PS...I think the guy in the cow suit put out more than two shots that day.

Next post: Breaking up over the Olive Garden

Next next post: Elizabeth Jones, weight loss stalker? 

Hellllllooooooo, everyone!!!

I'm back from Spring Break in Texas...and recovering from my 10 day food coma. Starting to feel the circulation in my extremeties again.  I felt like I gained 10 pounds...but, alas, only two.  I have SO much to tell you about...my break up with a friend over the Olive Garden, an ode to milk, how I almost mowed down the Chick-fil-A mascot, some completely useless trivia about your pie hole, and the person I'd most want to stalk if given a plane ticket and camo gear. It's coming in the next 72 hours, so please stay tuned.  In the meantime, I'd like to offer Exhibit A of how I behaved the last few days: