Mightier Than The Pen

Making The World A Bitter Place

It’s Either That or Liposuction

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Until very recently, my only experience with dieting has involved laughing at people who do so.

This is not because I begrudge people their attempts to control what they ingest; more power to them for that. No, what irks me is the idea that some temporary measure such as a diet will make any meaningful difference. You don’t “diet” to drop twenty pounds; you change the way you eat permanently, or your bad numbers will zoom right back up, likely worse than before. Who needs the grief?

My numbers, last I checked, were pretty good. Of course I last checked in 2005. And of late, some trousers don’t close as well as they used to. I do not blame the dryer; no, the dryer is too busy timing its ear-shattering buzz for the most inopportune moments, such as when the tantrum-racked, overtired little one has juuuust fallen asleep, that delicate, precarious kind of sleep that must not be disturbed by the slightest peep if it is to progress into genuine slumber. It appears that yes, my middle has been expanding. Slowly, mind you – it took several years for me to eliminate any doubt. I had to dredge out long-buried memories of the way the trousers in question fit when they were new (it’s also possible my behind has gotten in on the growth game, but since I don’t spend much time looking at my butt, I’m not so sure; navel-gazing, on the other hand, is my specialty, as you may have noticed)(it’s fuzzy in there)(and apparently getting roomier).

When I let slip this newfound consciousness to a slightly heftier friend recently, he scoffed. He guffawed. He gestured dismissively, as if the specter of needing to purchase more ample clothes could not possibly affect someone of lesser girth than he. As if my erstwhile glorious disregard for all nutritional sensibility somehow made me immune to the inevitable physiological changes that accompany getting on toward middle age. It was insulting, frankly.

But aside from the insensitivity of others, the main challenge lies in limiting calorie count while maintaining at least some indulgence. So I hit upon a novel idea. Well, not so novel, just unorthodox. Eat whatever junk food I want; just keep an eye on calories. To hell with nutrition; we didn’t evolve this far by being so delicate.

So far, so good. It’s been about two weeks, and I can report at least that nothing has gotten tighter. I do have to deal with longer stretches of feeling hungry, but I can ignore it for long periods if necessary. When I start to snap at my kids more than usual (it’s a subtle calculus) I know it’s time to go have a cracker or something.

What about vitamins? Essential nutrients? Protein? Trans fats? To hell with all that. Don’t believe the hype. Try it for yourself. A reasonably functional body should do just fine on a regimen of crap. Hey, it got me this far.


Written by Thag

December 6, 2010 at 10:06 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

Tagged with , , , , ,

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