I noticed that I was gaining weight, and it made me mad because my clothes were getting tight and uncomfortable. Cranky cranky cranky. People said, "You can't even tell," but that didn't mean poop-squat to me because I was uncomfortable and it distracted me all day long. My pants were too tight so they were always a little too short. My shirts were too tight so the buttons sort of gapped. I just didn't feel right.
Weeks, months went by. I was slowly gaining weight, a few pounds here, a few pounds there... "You really can't tell," people said. I said, "I can tell." I could no longer fit into some of my tighter jeans. I became irritable, especially at night, especially when I wanted to sit down to write about "What I had for dinner" for this blog. Dinner was all over the place -- a strict monk's meal on some evenings and a gorge-o-rama of Chinese take-out delight on others. I didn't even want to think about it, let alone write about it. My evening meals were Out of Control.
One Monday morning I realized I couldn't fit into any of my pants. I'd been pigging out all weekend and wearing sweat pants a lot. I glanced at the clock, noticed I was running late, and decided to grab one of my larger-sized skirts. Nope, none of my skirts fit either! Panicking, I grabbed a pair of elastic-waistband granny pants from the back of my closet that I had bought during a previous fat crisis. They fit just fine.
En route to work that day, I had time to consider my options. I could go out and purchase an entire new wardrobe in a larger size. This sounded like it had potential to be a lot of fun but also, I knew, it would be a lot of work because I had no money and would have to replace my wardrobe from thrift store offerings. I could usually find good stuff at thrift stores but it generally took several hours of intense thrift store shopping to find one prize clothing item. I really had to be in the mood to focus on this, and right then I was feeling too impatient and irritable to browse thrift stores.
Another option I had before me was to go on a diet, which had the word die in it for a reason. I would rather die than go on a diet. However, that day, en route to work, I made the decision to bite the bullet and start counting calories.
I delved right in, counting each morsel of food that went into me, carefully adding each calorie and planning ahead so as not to exceed 1200 calories, the amount the experts said would let you lose a pound or so a week, the healthy way. I got happier as I took control of my food intake. I became almost rapturous over cottage cheese and lettuce. I could make a meal out of green vegetables.I began to appreciate the food I ate more than I had done before. I started to enjoy the control I had over my diet!
As I write this tonight, I have been dieting for twenty-seven days straight, gained 4 pounds, and feel very satisfied with myself. I've stayed under 1200 calories each day and I mostly stick to string beans, cottage cheese, and apples. Apples for breakfast, cottage cheese for lunch. And then... BAM! I prepare myself the most extraordinary string bean dinners. I have invented many of the recipes myself and am even thinking of writing a book of string bean dinner recipes, an exotic coffee table book possibly with larger-than-life photographs of beans in the wild juxtaposed with beans on your plate. I'd include string beans with low-calorie caesar dressing and bacon bits, string beans with hot pepper sauce, string beans with a dash of apple cider vinegar, and string beans with parmesan cheese -- just a few of my favorites.
I know, I glossed over the fact that I've actually gained weight on this diet. But it's just so much fun. And my granny pants are getting a lot of wear in the meantime.
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