I started my New Year’s resolution a couple of weeks ago, just to shake things up a bit. It’s the same resolution I’ve had for the past 40 years – lose weight.
Sure, I’ve done it before and usually by the end of the first month I’ve had it with salads and eight glasses of water a day and head for the nearest Big Mac. I could be one of those spokespersons for commercials on dieting.
I’ve tried every diet out there and nothing works. It could be it’s not the diet which isn’t working, it’s my lack of self-discipline.
This time around I’m counting points. They’re not pulling one over one me. I know I’m really counting calories and fat grams. They’ve just simplified it so I think I’m getting to eat more.
My stomach says it’s not getting enough points, and my mind tries to justify that a couple more scoops of food doesn’t make that much difference on the scales. It does and it has. When I go to weigh in, I’m nervous. Why would I be nervous about weighing in? Will this lady behind the counter (skinny I might add) hold it against me if I gain this week? I don’t even know this person.
I wasn’t going to tell anyone I was on a diet – I mean a new way of eating. Mostly because the relatives poke fun at the many times I’ve announced I’m going to start a diet – always on Mondays – and by the weekend I’m eating chocolate chip cookies again.
I’m beginning to think it’s going to take more than just counting points this time. The day may have come to take the laundry off the stationary bike and take a stab at getting some exercise, although I really thought walking the puppies twice a day was going to make a difference.
During the middle of the day I promise myself I’ll exercise before I start cooking dinner and then when I don’t, I promise to get up early and exercise before work. If only thinking about exercising would burn some fat, I’d be one skinny lady.
He says “don’t worry about it, you look great just the way you are.” My sister says, “It’s a shame you can’t fit into those clothes anymore” as she walks out of my closet with an armful of discarded shirts laying on the floor.
The campaign says you can eat whatever you want and it’s true as long as you’re willing to write it down, count up the points and starve the rest of the day. I’m already missing those tasty, mouth-watering, delicious calories and fat grams.
One more thing – don’t try dipping carrot sticks into ketchup. It’s definitely not the same as salty fries.
Sandy Turner lives in Independence, Missouri. Email her at firstname.lastname@example.org