Battling the Bulge

Just for the record, I hate dieting! On the flip side, I LOVE to eat. I love great French food, good old comfort food, chocolate, all kinds of ethnic foods, cakes, French fries, seafood, pies, eggs, bacon and home fries, candy, and . . . well enough said. Sadly, I more often than not give into my desire to sink my teeth into the closest, yummy cuisine and the next thing I know the needle on my bathroom scale has gone up a tick, or two, or three. Most recently I haven’t needed the scale to inform me of my weight gain, my jeans, skirts, dresses and slacks let me know in no uncertain terms that it was time to rein it in. So today, day two of my latest effort to conquer the bulge, I am in full battle mode.

I come from a family that loves to eat. We do it really well. My mother was a great cook, my grandmothers were both great cooks, my sisters, daughters and husband are all great cooks. Our family loves to gather around a heavy laden table, share good food, good stories and good times. Not only do we enjoy the moments around the table, but the anticipation leading up to each feast is enough to get the taste buds tingling. In our family temporarily setting aside sensible eating guidelines and eating what I want only at special occasions just doesn’t work. Besides the major holiday meals, there are always birthday celebrations, (twelve in just our immediate family, over twenty when we celebrate with extended local family), church dinners, cookouts, parties, ice cream celebrations after band concerts and award ceremonies, heck, just being alive another day is cause for celebration! In other words I’m the queen of excuses, but I’ve drawn the line and tomorrow is day three of healthy eating.

I’m not very pleasant to be around the first few weeks I begin a healthy eating plan. I’m a pious dieter. I say things to my husband like,

“You aren’t really going to eat that WHOLE bowl of ice cream are you?!”

Or as he’s enjoying a late night snack I might snap,

“Didn’t we just have dinner like an hour ago?”

He usually just keeps his distance, smiles at me over his bowl and continues munching, which is okay since most of the time his waistband isn’t telling him to back away from the refrigerator.

I know as the days pass I’ll get over my sugar dependence and I’ll even enjoy my oatmeal and shredded bran wheat in the mornings. I know that seeing that needle on the scale heading the right direction will give me the thrill I’m missing at the table. I know that being able to bend over to put my socks on and still being able to breath while I’m doing it will feel fantastic. I know that hearing my doctor tell me my cholesterol, sugar and blood pressure counts all look terrific will give me a boost. I know that every mile I walk on the treadmill will get easier and easier again. I know that being around and being healthy so I can watch my beautiful grandchildren grow up is all worth it.

Here’s to a successful battle of the bulge in 2012, I’m fighting for a lighter, healthier me. Oh and just one more thing for the record, I’ve found I stick to my healthy eating plan better when I allow myself one small daily treat. So on a final note, I am usually, even when dieting, able to hold it together, but fair warning, don’t EVER stand between me and my evening, dark chocolate truffle, it’s hard to say what might happen.