I have the kind of grandmother that is overly supportive of everything. If I come to her with stress or feelings of inadequacy (the amount of times it took me to get the spelling of “inadequacy” right made me feel painfully inadequate just now), she dispels those concerns with grandmotherly cheer and support. She makes me feel like everything I do is “Just wonderful, Mallie dear!” And I mean everything. Once while I was on a vacation in London I texted her at 5am my time, having been up the last two hours, to let her know that I was so off schedule I knew what time the sun rose. She messaged me back saying, “Oh Mallory! How wonderful to know the timing of the sunrise! That is a great skill to have, I am proud of you!” Jet lag. My grandmother was proud of me for my jet lag. That’s real love and real support. And it’s important, because I have a hard time recognizing my personal success. Now, that’s not to say I’m not successful. I’ve found success in my life, even with this blog. Recently I received a text from my brother letting me know what a huge deal my blog is back at home. He told me that recently he was at a family event and spent quite a lot of time with my grandfather and his printer. Because my grandpa was making him print out my blog posts. With COLOR ink. If that's not success I don't know what is. And although it’s occasionally hard for me to recognize, I had a simple moment of success earlier this week that led to some serious inspiration (the word “serious” is being used here ironically, you will come to understand that soon enough.)
These two cuties though.
My grandpa and my youngest sister are best buds. It's the sweetest thing I've ever seen.
Earlier this week my husband and I found an old scale in the large storage hole in our apartment. We call the hole “The abyss” and usually stay out of it because it is full of nails and tools and furniture left by the old tenant (also because of the occasional animal noises that escape from the space) but it’s a hole in our wall the size of a small person and exploring it gives us something to do when it’s too cold outside to run about. We grabbed the scale and both hopped on. I wasn’t thinking much of it, mostly we were enjoying seeing how much we weighed with all our winter gear on, but I realized I had actually lost 15 pounds since we moved here. And really, it was by accident. Not in a “My metabolism is just so fast I eat chocolate and watch Zumba tapes to lose weight” kinda way, but a “My metabolism is shoddy at best but I’m too poor to eat in this country and it’s really working for me” kind of way.
Due to this surprise “success,” I’m planning on starting my own travel-focused weight loss plan. The trick is to move from a country that eats delicious delicious burritos the size of an obese infant and instead live in a country that eats poisonous rotten shark. I call it, “Iceland, It Works!” I’ve realized that not having the money for a car gives the same results as a $500 personal training session. I walk a mile and a half to the grocery store, fill two grocery bags with canned food (cheap, and heavy) and carry those a mile and a half to the house. In a personal training session you can have simulated wind resistance in your work outs for three easy payments of $29.95, or just live in Iceland where the wind chill comes free! The colder it is, the faster you’ll try to get home, and the more calories you’ll burn!
It also helps that Iceland does not believe in the cupcake. Recently I was missing home and began craving a dessert I hardly ate in the states, the cupcake. I couldn’t place my finger on why I wanted one, but I was determined to find and consume the treat. That’s the next part of my weight loss program, “The Cupcake Trek.”. Desperate for a sugary taste of corn syrup frosting, i.e. home, I walked to every bakery in the city, weaved through cobblestone streets, and peeked into colorful homes where I smelled baked goods… not a cupcake in sight. Iceland doesn’t have a close history with sugar. This means most of their desserts are not covered in frosting, food coloring, or cheer. And usually I love that (the bakeries really are great), but that day I wanted a cupcake and I did not get one. Instead, I got 4 miles of speed walking and another 400 calories off my muffin top.
It isn’t that we eat particularly healthy food now either. We’re still having hot chocolate and pancakes occasionally and I definitely ate an entire package of mashed potatoes when we first moved here (ask me about that experience in detail sometime, the words “digesting solid clay” will come up. It’s a party.) but unhealthy food isn’t inexpensive here like it is in the US. Back home, we’d eat out because we were in the studio until 2 am, our paychecks didn’t go in until the next week, and Wendy’s was open with $2 burgers calling our name. Here, if we wanted a crummy burger, we’d be taking a bus to the other side of town and waiting half an hour for a damp $30 burger and fries. There’s a reason McDonald’s didn’t last here.
It’s also interesting to live somewhere where the local food is the cheapest food. Nearly everything is imported and everything imported is pricier. Which is fine, because I’d pick this stunning box of salt over a box of Lucky Charms any day. Although I do miss chicken. Chickens won’t survive in Iceland. And the fancy imported chickens cost $14. I miss cheap chicken.
Now, I know I shouldn’t base feelings of success on my looks. But I realized that without having thought about it, I had conservatively lost just over a pound a week. I'd been trying to do that for ages before moving here. And with results like that, I may just put on my tennis shoes and enjoy this simple accidental success. Christian and I have missed the ease of having a car to get around, we’ve realized how much harder it is to balance a food budget in an expensive area, and we’ve felt tension while learning how to adjust. I’m learning now how to embrace my silly struggles because sometimes surprisingly good things come of them. Like my great new weight training healthy life system. Tune in next week for an Icelandic inspired health drink of my own invention- “Sheep Face Shake.” Patent pending. My grandparents are going to love it.
