Jumping Ship

Today was my last day at work. 

As a three-year trooper at one highly respectable Fortune 100 company (which shall remain nameless) in a relatively stable environment, it seemed this day would never come. Why should it, when I had three years of hard work, dedication and a proven track record to back it up?

Everyone wants change. I desperately wanted change.

At first, I thought it a bit greedy of me to chase such auxiliary goals in this ever-so-lean job market. People I know have been riding the job search engines day and night for something, anything, to pay the bills, and here I was wanting a new, second job.

I also thought of my parents, who were just plain scared that I was going to make this bold career move and lose the new job in two months. They're very old-fashioned that way. They're still in the mindset that the first job you get is the one you keep until you can't work anymore. Dad's been a barber for 30+ years - can you blame him for thinking that? 

But like the cheesy saying goes, if it's going to be... it's up to me. 

Now in a transition state between one dog-eat-dog entertainment company to another, I am surprised by the calm that has nestled itself into the unmade bed of uncertainty and anticipation.  

Change, ready or not... here I come. 

Confessions of a Carnivore, Part I

If you haven't already heard, I've given up meat. Before you get excited (or disappointed), I want to make clear that this is a temporary sacrifice, and, I still eat fish.

I also gave up cheese and excessive amounts of sugar... all in an effort to lose the chub. And I'd better say this before I sound like a snob: It's been all of three weeks.

Some observations in that short time: You can lose weight really, really fast on this kind of, um, plan. You can also lose your mind. If you're a carnivore, like the beast that I've put to rest in me, this kind of plan will suck all of the joys of life right out of whatever's left of you. You can also bet that this plan will consume your life if you let it (constantly counting calories, weighing your options, planning your next meat-less, low-calorie meal).

So when does the madness end? To be honest, I'm not sure. And the thought of that scares me more than the thought of being eternally fat because, simply put, I love meat.

The original goal was my cousin's wedding in Hawaii, where I knew I'd be seeing tons of family members I hadn't seen since I was, well, less fat. (Culture brief: In Korean culture, you're not allowed to be fat. It's just forbidden. People have been ostracized for it.) So, for the past three weeks, I tried as best as I could to minimize the appearance of said violation. The wedding was yesterday, and I think it went okay - a second aunt or somebody said something, but who really cares what your second aunts think?

Anyway, the aftermath/binge was going to ensue at the airport on the way back. I don't know, get a Big Mac or something grossly awesome. But sitting here just hours before my flight outlining the semi-success of my eating plan really makes me re-consider the Big Mac.

Following the pattern of what my favorite TV show does best, I'm going to leave you hanging. (The show is 24, by the way. If you don't know that, gosh, you should've stopped reading this a long time ago. Why would you even care what I eat?)

Did I resist that Big Mac? Or did I succumb, knowing I'd be taking two steps back toward the edge of that steep, cellulite-lined cliff?