You can probably tell by looking at me
that I am not a dieter.
I descend from a family whose DNA is
dominated by fat markers that make staying even somewhat fashionably
trim a full-time, hair-pulling,
don't-put-anything-in-your-mouth-that-tastes-good endeavor. It's a
lousy way to live life and I decided long ago that I'm not going to do it.
I'm a firm believer in the musing of
Mark Twain when he said something to the effect: If I can't get to
seventy by a comfortable road, I'm not going. If a doctor told me
that I had to give up Italian and Chinese food or I'd die in six
months, I'd begin putting my life in order and running up my credit
cards.
I refuse to fuel my engine with tofu,
sprouts and beets. Like Ron White, I didn't join man's 10,000-year
struggle to reach the top of the food chain to eat green beans. Green
bean, I spit you out!
I do go to the gym nearly every day
that I'm at home. A missed day is rare, indeed. I burn nearly 1,000
calories a day just on the cardio machine I use. Yet, I am still slowly
losing the weight struggle.
On a recent trip to Charleston for the
wedding of some friends, I checked into the Marriott in plenty of
time to catch a little sun by the pool. I received a wake-up call
when I donned swimming attire and glanced in my room's full-length
mirror. I only have one such mirror in my home and it's in the guest
room -- let my friends get freaked out seeing themselves. I hadn't
seen me much below my neck in some time and certainly not in a swim
suit. I was shocked, appalled and, dare I say, mortified by the
sight.
I decided then and there that the
wedding reception would be my last hurrah for a while. With a
South Florida trip a mere three weeks away, I was determined to
jettison at least 10 pounds.
I essentially stopped drinking -- a
friend's birthday dinner demanded I have a glass of wine, and a
Sunday afternoon outing prompted one Woodford on the rocks -- for
about 18 days. My daily menu consisted of a protein bar for
breakfast, egg beaters for lunch and a grilled chicken breast for
dinner, supplemented by stalks of celery during the day and a handful
of unsalted almonds in the evening.
To be honest, I missed food much more
than the alcohol. Holy crap, I hate Egg Beaters!
In the food department, I also wandered
off the reservation at the aforementioned birthday dinner where I
indulged myself with Orange Peel Chicken and brown rice at a Chinese
joint. One of my friends glanced over and asked why I was quietly sobbing.
I peeled off five pounds in the first
six days and four more the following week, but have been essentially
stuck at nine pounds for the past three or four days. That's OK, I know weight
management is more than just weight. I still have high hopes for
stepping on the scale at the gym today and finding that last stubborn
pound has dropped away.
Today will be my last day of this
self-imposed punishment. Initially I was going to continue this
routine for a few more days, but that won't happen. I've had to
adjust my plans based on a few unexpected things that have come up.
Even if I don't get to that elusive
10th pound this go-around, I intend to revisit this weight-loss thing
in the fall for a couple of more weeks. In the meantime, I'm going to
eat, drink and be merry.
Losing weight can't still be a hair-pulling experience for you, can it?
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