A few weeks ago, I fell off the diet wagon. What the heck. Can’t I take a respite from time-to-time?
It didn’t take long for the pounds to start to reestablish themselves around my middle. I haven’t had the guts to climb on the scale but I’m guessing I’m up 5-6 pounds in only a few weeks.
This brings up an interesting point that most adults have to face. Is it a diet I’m on or do I have to eschew anything fattening for the rest of my life? It’s starting to seem like the latter.
I’m not thrilled by that proposition.
The fact I have no willpower probably doesn’t help. Put something carbolicious in the pantry or refrigerator and I’m all over it. Sometimes the time from last bite to guilt is measured in the milliseconds. When I throw out the wrapper to something and move it below the top layer in the trash can, so it isn’t easily seen, is a sign I’m in denial.
A lot of it is my clothes. As soon as I put on a little weight I can feel it in the way things fit. And, let’s face it, vanity is involved when you’re on camera every day. I don’t like seeing suits pull against my girth – and they have in the past.
Helaine has asked if I’ll forget Atkins and go a little more mainstream. Atkins was very easy for me. Just munch on cow or lamb any time I’m hungry.
I’m going to attempt South Beach, which is similar but adds a lot more fruits and vegetables (though not in the first few weeks). I’ll still pass on pasta and baked goods and nearly everything that is sweet. Thank heaven for Splenda.
Whatever it is, I have to realize that the days I could sit on the couch and eat a sleeve of Hydrox cookies, then wash that down with a Coke, are gone. I did that through my twenties and into my thirties without adding an ounce. God is such a tease.
Watching what I eat has to become a way of life. It’s just another feature of growing up… getting older… that sucks.