Chicken Soup for the Soul: My Resolution
A diet is the penalty we pay for exceeding the feed limit.
~Author Unknown
"This New Year's resolution makes me feel like we're enlisting in WWII," Ed remarked as we sat in the car waiting for our noon meeting and our second tour of duty with a structured weight loss program.
"Honey, it's not like we're facing a firing squad," I said, although I couldn't help but be amused by his flair for the dramatic.
"Maybe after a few weight loss meetings we'll get back into the swing of dieting," I said, attempting to look at the bright side of our on-going Battle of the Bulge. Ed didn't reply. He heaved a weary sigh thinking of the challenge that lay ahead for us.
I knew where Ed was coming from. Losing weight is a struggle I've faced since I was a teenager. Counting calories and watching my daily intake had become second nature to me by the time I was in my early twenties.
On the flip side, my husband, Ed, didn't start having a weight problem until he reached his mid-forties. Active and naturally slender, he never had to concern himself with the caloric difference between a pound of peanut butter fudge and a pound of celery sticks. In some ways, I feel worse for him than I do for myself. Along with being familiar with caloric values, I altered my eating habits when I was young, while Ed had to change deep-rooted habits with little knowledge of how to make wise food choices.
When we were still living in Seattle, Ed lost fifty-six pounds and I lost eighteen while attending regular weight loss meetings. Our weight didn't just disappear; we fought with great determination to re-shape our bodies and improve our overall health. What a rewarding feeling to know we had faced the enemy and won! We'd mastered the Battle of the Bulge, and amazingly we'd done it by following a program that didn't include ice cream as one of the major food groups.
We earned our Good Conduct medals during our WWI tour, but not without hard battles. At the first meeting, our fellow comrades let us know that munching on macadamia nuts during the meeting was not acceptable, and moreover, not offering to share was behavior unbecoming to the weight loss club.
A few weeks later, forgetting the earlier skirmish over the macadamia incident, Ed stood up after a particularly rousing weight loss meeting, and asked, "How about we all go for Mexican food after the meeting?" Everyone in the room joined us.
The following week the Drill Sergeant, AKA the red-faced weight loss instructor, took us aside and pointed out the potential physical dangers of mentioning any kind of forbidden food in a room full of club members who aren't related to Twiggy. She was clearly very perturbed with us.
Soon after losing the weight in Seattle, our lives took a turn, and we made a major move to the Southwest. With a new job and a new home in the Land of Enchantment, success was felt on all fronts, except for one very important one... the scales. Time and our weight had marched on, and the scales said we were in a downward spiral to defeat.
We rationalized that the disruption of the move was the reason for our expanding girth.
But the truth is we had grazed our way 1,900 miles south, by treating ourselves at some of the most decadent ice cream shops America had to offer.
So, after months of putting off the inevitable, we had no choice but to re-enlist for WWII. We are much wiser now that we've re-upped for a second tour of duty, and we want to do everything just right.
Our desire to reduce during this second tour has prompted us to seek out and experiment with new and alternative foods. Our kitchen table is a war planning zone for charting the calories we've eaten and those we've yet to consume. Our goals in meeting the enemy head-on include searches for recipes promising low fat, low sugar and low calories.
We've been studying our weight loss books. I've pulled out my low everything recipes and removed from the refrigerator and cupboards the foods that could be toxic to the mission. We've enlisted our dachshund, Leon, to join the program. I've even removed the clothes hangers from the treadmill so it's ready to go into action 24/7.
We feel WWII and the Battle of the Bulge can be won again. The pounds are slowly melting from our bodies, and morale among the troops seems to be sustaining itself. But will our spirits remain high with Ed and me celebrating our successes after the meetings by rushing out to dine on Mexican food?
Losing weight is a treacherous lifelong war; some days we limp into battle and other days we march to victory. However, every day we're thankful for New Year's resolutions that will keep us from being drafted to serve in WWIII.
~Author Unknown
"This New Year's resolution makes me feel like we're enlisting in WWII," Ed remarked as we sat in the car waiting for our noon meeting and our second tour of duty with a structured weight loss program.
"Honey, it's not like we're facing a firing squad," I said, although I couldn't help but be amused by his flair for the dramatic.
"Maybe after a few weight loss meetings we'll get back into the swing of dieting," I said, attempting to look at the bright side of our on-going Battle of the Bulge. Ed didn't reply. He heaved a weary sigh thinking of the challenge that lay ahead for us.
I knew where Ed was coming from. Losing weight is a struggle I've faced since I was a teenager. Counting calories and watching my daily intake had become second nature to me by the time I was in my early twenties.
On the flip side, my husband, Ed, didn't start having a weight problem until he reached his mid-forties. Active and naturally slender, he never had to concern himself with the caloric difference between a pound of peanut butter fudge and a pound of celery sticks. In some ways, I feel worse for him than I do for myself. Along with being familiar with caloric values, I altered my eating habits when I was young, while Ed had to change deep-rooted habits with little knowledge of how to make wise food choices.
When we were still living in Seattle, Ed lost fifty-six pounds and I lost eighteen while attending regular weight loss meetings. Our weight didn't just disappear; we fought with great determination to re-shape our bodies and improve our overall health. What a rewarding feeling to know we had faced the enemy and won! We'd mastered the Battle of the Bulge, and amazingly we'd done it by following a program that didn't include ice cream as one of the major food groups.
We earned our Good Conduct medals during our WWI tour, but not without hard battles. At the first meeting, our fellow comrades let us know that munching on macadamia nuts during the meeting was not acceptable, and moreover, not offering to share was behavior unbecoming to the weight loss club.
A few weeks later, forgetting the earlier skirmish over the macadamia incident, Ed stood up after a particularly rousing weight loss meeting, and asked, "How about we all go for Mexican food after the meeting?" Everyone in the room joined us.
The following week the Drill Sergeant, AKA the red-faced weight loss instructor, took us aside and pointed out the potential physical dangers of mentioning any kind of forbidden food in a room full of club members who aren't related to Twiggy. She was clearly very perturbed with us.
Soon after losing the weight in Seattle, our lives took a turn, and we made a major move to the Southwest. With a new job and a new home in the Land of Enchantment, success was felt on all fronts, except for one very important one... the scales. Time and our weight had marched on, and the scales said we were in a downward spiral to defeat.
We rationalized that the disruption of the move was the reason for our expanding girth.
But the truth is we had grazed our way 1,900 miles south, by treating ourselves at some of the most decadent ice cream shops America had to offer.
So, after months of putting off the inevitable, we had no choice but to re-enlist for WWII. We are much wiser now that we've re-upped for a second tour of duty, and we want to do everything just right.
Our desire to reduce during this second tour has prompted us to seek out and experiment with new and alternative foods. Our kitchen table is a war planning zone for charting the calories we've eaten and those we've yet to consume. Our goals in meeting the enemy head-on include searches for recipes promising low fat, low sugar and low calories.
We've been studying our weight loss books. I've pulled out my low everything recipes and removed from the refrigerator and cupboards the foods that could be toxic to the mission. We've enlisted our dachshund, Leon, to join the program. I've even removed the clothes hangers from the treadmill so it's ready to go into action 24/7.
We feel WWII and the Battle of the Bulge can be won again. The pounds are slowly melting from our bodies, and morale among the troops seems to be sustaining itself. But will our spirits remain high with Ed and me celebrating our successes after the meetings by rushing out to dine on Mexican food?
Losing weight is a treacherous lifelong war; some days we limp into battle and other days we march to victory. However, every day we're thankful for New Year's resolutions that will keep us from being drafted to serve in WWIII.
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