I love food.
I mean, I love food.
I mean, I really, really love food.
Like most humans, I love the wrong kinds of food. What can I say? The ‘bad’ sorts just taste better. Eating lots of the ‘bad’ sorts also tastes better, particularly as a coping mechanism for depression.
However, that is known is gluttony, and is my favorite sin.
As such, baby-making and age eventually caught up to my habit. I found myself considering something I’d never had to before: a diet.
Before Child #4 and my thirties, I’d been blissfully ignorant of the difficulties of weight loss. I walked a lot. I was actively breaking up fighting children. I worked around the house and in the yard. I cooked our meals; sometimes, from our garden. I’ve never consumed alcohol or coffee and do not drink soda pop often.
About who-knows-how-many years ago, I had to do more. Baby #4 could walk and talk …and go into preschool, so I couldn’t use his birth as an excuse for the 30 extra pounds anymore. So, I started my own variation of the no-carb diet.
I cut out sugar, white flour, white rice, and white rap (we all know Mom’s spaghetti is loaded with carbs). Instead of going completely lettuce-wrapped, I replaced my grains with whole wheat and brown rice.
I lost about 10 lbs; then, reasonably, gave up.
This may have also coincided with school letting out for the summer.
About a year after Diet #1 and Christmas, I implemented another diet. I focused more on not eating after a certain time (9 p.m.), drinking more water, and not eating any sweets or desserts.
Again, this lasted about a month.
Cue yet another year and I told myself this was it. I told myself I would drop that final 10 lbs, whether or not it was Girl Scout Cookie Time.
For some reason, I had also been exercising daily since November. For some other reason, we planned our first-ever out-of-country and longer-than-two-nights trip. The husband wanted me to get a bikini. He assumed I would be seen in public wearing one.
This final time was more difficult than the others; due to its being the last few pounds, due to my exercising, and due to my wavering conviction after a few weeks. I did smaller portion sizes. I tried to avoid refined sugar. I chewed gum, wore my retainer, and shamed myself away from late-night snacks.
But, did it I did. Lost the weight I did.
Aaaand, now I’m back to where I started. Actually, I’m back to where I started, plus a little extra in case we run out of snacks on the flight to where I started. I’ve been trying to diet again, impatiently so.
I always forget how difficult The Diet is. Day One is the hardest. Actually; like they say in Holes, “the first hole’s the hardest;” then, “the second hole’s the hardest….” If I survive the first week without killing everyone in a hangry rage, my stomach shrinks and I make it a while longer. I’m hoping to stick with it till all the extra baby weight is gone.
I write this post to explain why I’m a little testy; why I’m somewhat unfocused. I also write it to encourage anyone working on dieting or other self-improvement. Self-improvement is difficult, but you can do it. I can do it.
We can do it, one hole at a time -er, maybe one salad at a time.
What have been your experiences with dieting? What worked? Whom did you murder during the first week?
I wrote some stuff, too:
Wednesday, January 22: Wondered at the anti-social social world in “Real Life vs. The Blogosphere.”
Thursday, January 23: Throwback: “Herculesa.”
Saturday, January 25: Announced the 56th Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest. The theme is an epic poem of adventure. PLEASE ENTER!
Also, “Quick Game: Edit That Book Title,” for fun.
Sunday, January 26: “The Hereafter, Aloft,” in response to Carrot Ranch’s prompt.
Monday, January 27: An inspirational quote from Charli Mills.
Tuesday, January 28ish: Poemed “Wanton Winter.”
Wednesday, January 29: Today
©2020 Chelsea Owens