A rainbow in Ireland. Photograph by E. Palmer/A. Wilhelme.

Well, if you’re anything like me, you spent most of your weekend avoiding work and getting drawn in against your will to a horrid interpretation of the Robin Hood fable from the BBC because it has the instant play option on Netflix and because the actor who plays Guy of Gisbourne (Richard Armitage) is alarmingly hot. It’s okay, don’t be ashamed. He’s gorgeous (I recommend Episode #3 from Season 2 in which Guy of Gisbourne is seen shirtless when trying on a suit of new armor). Also, you wouldn’t have slept well this weekend either, and have been out of the groove of exercising for a couple of weeks now because you are recovering from getting hit by an SUV.

Tonight I go back to bellydance for the first time since the accident, and I have to say that I feel ready…for the most part. If, by chance, you have been reading this series since the beginning (or are going back and reading the earlier posts), you will recall that in December (Dec. 18 if painful memory serves) I danced in my first hafla. Being a novice bellydancer and someone who fears the performance stage in such a context, it was not an easy undertaking to do it even once, and now it’s happening again.

The one major difference this time around is that I will only have two classes of practice in learning an entirely new routine before taking the stage to embarrass myself and my classmates. This is due to the accident, and is in stark contrast to the several weeks of training I had before my first hafla. I am going to class tonight to learn for the first time this routine that my best friend (you all remember Myrtle, right?) has warned me is insanely difficult already, and according to her, the instructor is going to start teaching us the “hard part” tonight. So as you can imagine, I am excited. Thrilled and excited. This time I may really fall on my ass and this time there won’t be EMT’s on scene within minutes. Even if they were, EMT’s can't fix wounded pride.

On St. Patrick’s Day though, I am inclined not to worry. I want to grab a pint and a whiskey chaser and listen to the Pogues and the Cheiftains and attempt to do some ill-fated Irish Set Dancing. I have always loved the idea of Ireland and St. Patrick’s Day, and I have fond memories of my Mom saying over the years (the only time she suggested that I drink other than church wine), “Have a green beer, you’re Irish!” It’s true, somewhere back there in my genealogy there is a great-great-something grandmother from Ireland, and there’s probably more where that came from. My mom’s maiden name is Murray, and I’ve been told before that it was originally O’Murray, and that when they came to the States they dropped the “O” (though to my knowledge this is only family hearsay). Part of me wants to start my St. Patty’s Day celebrations before dance class; who knows? It could make me better.

An Irish landscape. Photo taken by E. Palmer/A. Wilhelme.

Last May, Andrew and I took a trip to the Emerald Isle for 17 days and we have wanted to go back ever since we landed here on the continent. It was incredible. We spent time in both the Republic of Ireland and in Northern Ireland. We visited Derry (we went on a walking tour offered through the Museum of Free Derry and it was one of the most moving experiences I've ever had - we loved Derry) and Doolin and Galway and saw the Giant’s Causeway, the Cliffs of Moher, walked across the Carrick A Rede Rope Bridge and hiked all over Glencolmcille. The beauty of Ireland is really something to behold, and it gets into your soul.

The fairy tale picture. Photo taken by E. Palmer/ A. Wilhelme.

The pubs and people were unforgettable; in fact, we got to see the Chieftains play live the night before we flew home in a church that had been erected in 1884 (newer architecture in the context of Ireland’s history) in Ennis. We ate delicious food (I had to try bangers and mash at nearly every restaurant) and drank often, but we were so mobile that I actually lost weight on the trip, which makes me seriously (amongst other reasons) consider that experience in terms of weight loss. The food quality systemically is better there than it is in the U.S. (not just in Ireland, but in several other industrialized nations), and it just wasn’t a concern. The ways we got around were healthier, and being in another country just forces you to slow down to that pace, and it is a good thing. Experiencing this day here at home just makes me long (all the more) to go back, grab a pint of Bulmer’s (or Magner’s depending on whether you’re in the Republic or Northern Ireland) in a pub and sit there with my Andrew, both of us warm and drunk, listening to traditional Irish music performed by local musicians and loving every bit of it.

An Irish scene. Photo taken by E. Palmer/A. Wilhelme.

Here are a few not-so-well crafted limericks that I wrote when I initially attempted to craft this whole post as a series of limericks in honor of the day:

St. Patty’s Day is quite an occasion,
One that tests our digestive fortification,
Between cabbage and meat
We in vain try to defeat
Succumbing to overwhelming inebriation.

So what has happened this week?
Not to be too tongue-and-cheek,
Weight was lost, though so slow as to give me an attack cardiopulmonary,
And the speed creeps on and on like molasses being poured out in January,
Slow and steady these results that I seek.

Today I do dream,
Of imbibing Guinness and Bailey’s Irish Cream,
Smooth and delicious, this stuff
It seems there’s never enough
Lucky there’s whiskey to round out the theme.

Down this weight-loss road I still putter
Using apples as means to eat peanut butter
Protein without meat,
It also counts as a treat,
And will not throw my plans in the gutter.

A limerick or two,
From this (very) curvy girl to you,
On this day of St. Patrick,
When we all drink ‘til we get sick,
And may lament having had more beer than stew.

Erin Go Bragh, everybody. Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

A family of sheep in Ireland. Photo by E. Palmer/A. Wilhelme.

More Confessions of a (very) curvy girl will come out every Wednesday. Also, look out for the two new “Curvy Girl” supplements, “Unfit” and “Food/Foe Thought.”

Elizabeth Palmer is the Customer Advocate at AnnArbor.com as well as a contributor. She writes about food and food traditions, sustainable development and her experiences as a curvy girl. She has a bachelor’s degree in photography and is finishing her masters in historic preservation. Elizabeth also teaches a course on sustainable development at Eastern Michigan University.

You can contact Elizabeth by e-mailing her at elizabethpalmer@annarbor.com.