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.
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