D-I-E-T

D-I-E-T. It's a four-letter word that really sticks in my craw. Craw? A four-letter word that . . . leaves my mind blank. Hold on while I look that up.

And, we're back. Craw, a four-letter word that means: To cause one to feel abiding discontent and resentment. Also, the stomach of an animal. Which brings us right back to D-I-E-T, and the news flash that I am indeed an incredibly smart chick, just as I always told my exes, my bosses, and my children.

Okay, so I admit to putting on a few pounds or 20 since I passed 45. I had spent my entire life up to that point as a walking stick -- occasionally as a walking stick with a developing fig somewhere in the middle. My metabolism must have been at warp speed because I could not put on weight. I once resorted to drinking the supplement Nutrament in attempt to gain a few pounds so people would quit asking if I had an eating disorder. Then as soon as I quit drinking all the nutritious crappaliciousness, any gains went into the losses column. I felt I was too skinny to wear anything sleeveless, lest my gangly arms attract unwanted attention, and same thing with the bird legs. Shorts made me self-conscious. Up until I hit 45 I never knew what a diet was, nor did I know how to exist on one. Totally undisciplined about what I put in my mouth, I was a diet virgin.

Yeah, yeah, you say. That fuckingskinnybitchwhoredogskankyslutabumpkus. But I had no control over the genes my folks gave me. And this oughtta make you feel better: those days are gone. My metabolism has betrayed me. It has slo-o-owed to a slug's pace.

I now have to watch what I ingest. I don't like to say that I DIET, though, because that implies restriction and deprivation. As a long-time instant-gratification bitch, when I am denied something I want, the rebel in me starts huffing and puffing and foraging for Heath bars, chips and salsa, or peanut butter cookies and ice-cold milk. As a result, I'm fighting an alarming muffin top.

I've had success with eating the right foods for weight loss, especially when I'm active; and I like the broad range of menu items I have to choose from (low carb, high veggies and protein – and no freakin' sugar!). It's just that my willpower is tenuous.

Oh, somebody brought in a cake? Where's my slice? Make sure I get extra frosting. Lunch at Olive Garden? Count me in! Can you spell lasagnamanicottirotini? And pass that garlic bread, will ya? Eye-talian cream cake? My FAVE!!

So how do you stay with it? What keeps you motivated (besides the bad news that bikini weather is only a couple months off)? I absolutely love to eat. How do I just say NO to sticking more stuff in my craw?

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