So, I’ve finally acknowledged the fact that the shorts that looked so cute on me at this time last year are requiring some extra effort to button. Mostly I’d been ignoring this fact by just not wearing anything that caused such discomfort, but, it’s time to face the big, fat, ugly music.
The thing is, I know I can lose it, and I know what it takes to lose it (have you met my good friend Steamed Broccoli?). I just have to actually do it. Not just think about it, or bitch about it, or read books about it, but do it. And, I got an email from my friend Kyle the other day saying she was dieting, and I thought, “You know what? So am I. Well, so will I, because I’m not giving up on the fabulous dinner I’ve already planned, and that dessert on the counter isn’t going to eat itself. And I’ll write about it so other people jump on the bandwagon with us and keep us accountable.” That’s where you all come in.
And so, starting today, I am going to be hot and sexy. I am going to eat so many fruits and vegetables that it will make you want to puke. I will politely decline offers of ice cream without ripping my husband’s head off because he’s really just being nice and forgot that I’m not eating goddamn ice cream anymore. And I will not drink wine I will not drink too much wine I will not drink wine everyday, but when there’s a special occasion I will because it would be rude and not fun if I didn’t, and I hate to be rude or not fun.
I would like be very self righteous and tell you how I’m embarking on a new lifestyle, and how this is a life choice — never again will I succumb to the evils of cream-based soups and apple pie, but I won’t. A little part of me (probably the skinny bitch inside who’s squished to death by my big ass) truly believes I’ll make a permanent change, and I would love to believe whole-heartedly that, from this day forward, I will always reach for an apple or strawberries when I feel hungry, and I’ll no longer be tempted to chop up a pile of cheese and shove it in my mouth with a box or six of crackers. But, I know, at some point, I’m probably going to let my guard down again and start eating whatever yummy things cross my path, because I really do enjoy it.
And don’t worry, I’ll always workout hard, and I feel very confident I won’t ever let it get totally out of control, because I don’t like feeling self-conscious. I much prefer feeling really, really sexy. But, for the moment, I’m convincing myself that baby carrots are much tastier without any fat-laden dip, and that I don’t need pizza to survive. Wait, do I? Oh, God, I’m hungry. Somebody throw me a stupid apple already.