Married to the Mob

When I was about 14 years old, I dreamed of growing up, moving to New York, living in a brownstone near Mulberry Street, and marrying some suit-wearing mobster with a cool name and ambiguous moniker like Vincenzo "The Umbrella" Sabatini, or Joey "No Thumbs" Gambino.  Of course, there would also be an old Sicilian grandmother somewhere in the mix, who would cook fantastic Italian dinners for us every night.  As I got a little older, I still loved all things Italian, but I realized that what I actually admired was a life closer to that in the movie Moonstruck and not so much the movie The Godfather.  More Castarini's, less Cosa Nostra, if you will.  However, at no point, in either fantasy, was a stint in the FBI's Witness Protection Program ever on the agenda.

Years later, despite my love for Italy, Moonstruck, and pasta, I ended up marrying an all-American guy from the Midwest with a regular name and no moniker.  The complete opposite of anything Mafia related.  So imagine my surprise when I recently came to the realization that I have been living in my own crazy version of the Witness Protection Program.  It finally dawned on me a few days ago that I have totally been living my life in hiding!  I simply went out for pasta one day, made the mistake of staying for the cannoli, and came back to my life to find a severed horse's head in the sheets.  My crime?  Gaining weight.

Because I am fat, I avoid entire areas of the city so as not to run into any of my old friends or former co-workers who have only known the better, skinnier version of me.  They don't even know that this new, fat me even exists.  And it needs to stay that way, as far as I am concerned.  It's not the real me.

I do keep in touch with my old friends on social media or via email, but that is where I draw the line.  I am always "unavailable" for lunches and happy hour gatherings.  I don't eat at certain restaurants.  I am paranoid of being seen at concerts.  I have avoided numerous events. Worst of all, I don't even shop at my favorite two-story Barnes & Noble anymore...just in case.  I know exactly which stores, restaurants, and events I can enjoy "safely" without anyone seeing me.  I've gotten myself pretty boxed in these last couple of years, come to think of it.   I'm living incognito, and this will not do for me any longer. Oddly enough, this realization has me feeling motivated and eager to step up my game and continue on my journey for health!  I just don't want to live in the emotional equivalent of Kansas under some alias anymore!

At the end of the day, Moonstruck is still one of my favorite movies, and my sabbatical from pasta is only temporary.  However, I'm not Italian and I've never been married to the Mob, so it's time for me to check out of the WPP.   I've missed the old me.  I love and cherish my current, small group of amazing friends, but I have been missing my old friends too.  And I miss going to events and doing fun things!  I miss my old life.  I even miss the two-story Barnes & Noble....and I want it all back.  Pronto!  I can close my eyes and still remember what it feels like to be the old, healthier me...and it makes me excited.  So, it seems that motivation can come from wanting something you've never had, or sometimes from wanting something you had but just forgot about for a while.  :)