Instead of spending my early morning writing sessions writing, this week I’ve been focusing on two things: exercise and sleep. (The nerve! Sleeping in past 6am!). My neighbor and running buddy, Andrea’s half marathon training is in full swing. This week, I joined her for a three miler, a six miler and tomorrow we’ll do five miles. I don’t know if I’m actually ready for all these miles, but somehow I’m keeping up. I sure need the cardio though.

Weight loss is an enigma to me. I don’t remember a time in my life when I wasn’t trying to lose some weight. Well, OK, being pregnant, and lying in bed for nearly two months with the sole purpose of gaining weight, was certainly a time when weight loss was out of the question, but aside from that, I can always ‘afford to lose a few.’ And I’m still not sure why I have such a hard time with it. Sure, I’m a fan of sweets and chocolate, but for the most part, I limit my chocolate consumption to one dark chocolate Hershey Kiss a day. My breakfasts are usually oatmeal or Fiber One cereal (gotta keep it regular) with dried blueberries and a half a grapefruit on the side. When I told a friend of my breakfast routine, she said, “What? Fiber One? Are you like 70 or something?” She’s got a point. It’s not the most exciting of early morning food options, but I’m just trying to take care of things.

For lunch, nearly every day, I have a salad. I must admit, that I am quite the salad chef – my salads are fancy, gourmet, and of course, healthy. I usually do tofu or grilled chicken, dark mixed greens, sliced pear or grapes, walnuts, feta cheese, diced red pepper and balsamic vinegar spritzer for dressing. Mm--hmmm. I was having one of these gourmet salads at our preschool end-of-the-year picnic last week, when my salad, my fancy gourmet, healthy feast, was nearly the end of me.

I was sitting on the bench with the boys and Isabella and Isabella’s mom, Carrie, while we ate our packed lunches. Carrie was telling me how obsessed her daughter still is with Matthew. I was sharing with her, that Matthew had informed me that we needed to invite Isabella over. No, not for a play date, like standard protocol, but for dinner! As we were chatting, I was eating my aforementioned salad concoction (the tofu-themed), when somehow a large piece of tofu and lettuce did not get thoroughly smushed and mushed before being swallowed. I started choking as this piece of lettuce-tofu hung out in my throat. I coughed and sputtered but was, for the most part, able to breathe. I guess I managed to cover up my choking as Carrie kept on chatting. I tried taking a drink of water to wash the tofu-tastrophy down. I was successful. I managed to wash it down – lower into my esophagus where I could feel the lump get completely lodged in my chest. Great. Now what?

I could breathe fine but was in SO MUCH PAIN. I didn’t know what to do. I gestured to Carrie, that I’d be right back and wandered over towards the picnic shelter area. I just needed to get away from the group while I clutched my chest, gasped and grimaced in pain. Tofu was going to be the end of me. This tofu wasn’t going anywhere – neither up nor down. Me and tofu. Tofu and me. We were going down together. Death by tofu salad. What a totally lame way to go. I would so much rather experience death by chocolate.

But you can’t change fate, and it was sure looking like my destiny was to die due to tofu blockage. I was clutching my chest, trying to figure out what to do, when Matthew’s teacher, Ms. Susan came over. “Are you OK?” She asked. “You look awful.”

“No,” I gasped, “There’s salad, stuck, in my chest…It hurts…Don’t know what to do.” Then, I realized that I was going to throw up. I ran around to the back of the picnic shelter and proceeded to vomit up bile next to the trash can. After a bit of that, I realized, that was the way things would have to go. The tofu would only go, if it came up. It would not go down; it wouldn’t really do anything. I would have to force it up. I, again, gestured, to Carrie – this time to go to the restroom.

Why anyone would choose to be bulimic is beyond me. Puking is neither fun nor enjoyable, and it certainly shouldn’t be a daily habit. In the end, I succeeded to – bluuuppp – bring up the whole, huge wad of tofu and lettuce. Gross. My chest hurt for a good while afterwards, but I no longer feared that Ms. Susan would have to call Mike and tell him, “You’ll need to come and get your boys at Coulon Beach Park. Jenny went to the hospital in an ambulance….I’m not sure…something about tofu.” What a call that would be.
And my obituary would read: “Jenny was a fun gal who spent the last year of her life suffering from post partum depression, trying to figure out the purpose of her life, blogging and cleaning up lots of snot. She loved her family and her friends. She enjoyed music and running, spin class and yoga. She recently fell sucker to an on-line Writers Agency scam thinking they would help her publish her stories. Dark chocolate and coffee were two of her favorite things. She loved reading, chatting with friends, and watching movies with husband Mike. She drank one Diet Pepsi nearly every afternoon and was a fan of an apple with peanut butter for snack. Aside from various social events, Engaged Encounter activities, and a trip to California in early August, she was looking forward to watching “So You Think You Can Dance” on Fox, this summer. Monthly book club meetings were one of her favorite nights each month (aside from the nights when “SYTYCD” airs). She leaves behind a phenomenal husband, two amazing sons, a few bunnies that camp out on their lawn sometimes, and a duck threesome that tried to mate in the front yard. Her death was caused by tofu salad. She was 27 years old.”