Fat Free!

Yes, I know there are few things more boring than other people’s “weight loss journeys” but, conversely, there is nothing quite as fascinating as your own! 


And I am now on Day Sixteen of my Diet!!!!!


I just returned from coffee (sans muffin, croissant, bagel, banana-nut bread) with a friend and fellow dieter who asked me how my writing was going.  In answering I realized I've been way too busy not eating anything I like --  to write.

I’m a one-obsession-at-a-time kind of gal and I accept that 
moderation isn't for everyone.

I came late to the diet game because between the ages of 14 and 45 I concentrated my efforts on smoking cigarettes rather than eating. Turns out there are many parallels between smoking, eating, and ... monogamy!

When you get married, if you happen to be me, you have guilty dreams about sex with men other than your husband. 


Then you quit smoking and dream of sneaking a KOOL.


And two nights ago I began dreaming of sinking my crooked little teeth into fresh, rich, slices of thick, grainy, bread heaped with blue cheese. Then slices of extra sharp cheddar. Then slathered with creamy brie ... sigh. 
Never mind.      

But this is not my first time.

Many years ago I abandoned 20 pounds on Weight Watchers. They tracked me down, of course, and brought an additional 10 pounds back with them to punish me for my treason. I’ve noted that risk but have re-uped none the less, with every intention of returning soon to my pre-pregnancy, pre-cigarette-quitting-poundage, pre-relentless gravity, body.

Last night, however, over lettuce and tepid water, another dieting pal suggested we promise to tell each other when we are getting too skinny. She doesn’t want to become one of those deflated, bitter looking, wizened old broads whose slack, fat-free faces wobble in the breeze. 

Ew. I have no intention of being one either. 

Not because I will have lifting, tucking, bloodletting, face/neck tailoring or injections, but because that is simply not what I am picturing as I shun the bakery and snub the cheese counter. No, I shall soon be slim and firm, a bit taller perhaps, with the slightest trace of a French accent, my memory intact including nouns, my hearing and eyesight keen, my posture... perfect! Young again!

I suspect you won't recognize me when next we meet.

xo
Amy

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P.S. Much as I loved hearing from you, I had to disable blog comments because some low-life bottom-feeding crack-pot was venting spleen here.


Note to low-life: This blog is MINE for venting MY skinny little spleen, not yours.