I’ve been dieting…again.
And all I want to do when I’m dieting is eat…again.
Like a normal all American overindulgent human being.
Not that I’ve allowed myself to balloon up to my “Fat Summer” dimensions of a couple of years ago.
But if I don’t put the brakes on and correct course now…who knows.
So I’m dieting.
Watch out for the short tempered, irritable behavior that ensues whenever my food supply is altered.
I mean, I think Z could show a little bit more tolerance for my snack sneaking aptitude.
I don’t know why she gets so cranky.
Slipping a whole package of Mallomars between the couch cushions was inspired.
How was I supposed to know they’d melt into a big, dark chocolate, marshmallow mess?
But tasty still ….mess or no.
And who knew mice were so fond of potato chips…in the back of my sock drawer?
So it’s a battle.
And I know that whole thing about how bad it’s supposed to be to yo-yo. Lose gain-lose gain.
But it’s a long winter…what else is there to do except sit and eat?
It’s not like my pants don’t fit any more. Mostly because I have just about every waist size from 32 -36 in my closet.
But that’s part of the problem. The best indicator, at least for me, of the rising scale, is when my waist band starts to get a big snug.
The smart, practical move would be to cut back on the calories right then and there.
Or you can just slip into the next size up.
Even though you tell yourself you’re not going to do that…this time.
But…ahhhhhhhhhh…it’s so nice to be comfortable…in the evening, before dinner…in front of the fire, with some tasty appetizers and adult cocktail of choice.
Why ruin it with your pants slicing through your spleen?
So you say, “Just for tonight.”
And the next night and the next night.
Pretty soon you’re saying it all over again, a few weeks later…totally forgetting that you’ve already moved up a size…at least that’s what you tell yourself, when the only thing that will fit you are the living room drapes.
But they’re nice drapes, and like I said….why should I be uncomfortable?
So that’s how dieting goes…at least my dieting.
The truth is I’ve already been on and off it 3 times since I started writing this.
But I’ll prevail…sooner or later, I’ll prevail.
I’ll drop 10, maybe 15, if I’m good.
And then at least I can really start eating again.
But right now I think it’s time to break out the bigger shoes.
Why should I be uncomfortable…?