I always eat everything because of that starving kid in Africa

There is a popular restaurant in Southern California famous for its large portions—it’s called Claim Jumper (www.claimjumper.com). There is so much food per serving that a better name for the restaurant should be Heart Stopper. Or, it could be called Weight Gainer, Stomach Pumper, or Death Sooner. I’m telling you, the portions are so huge that most normal humans can’t consume the entire content. The choice of bread is not a muffin, or roll or slice, but rather a loaf. Their staple condiment served on most dishes is an apple… of sorts. Not the normal type of apple that humans would eat, rather an apple on steroids large enough to choke a racehorse. We’re talking softball size apple. I was once tempted to throw the apple at a waiter but I didn’t want to be charged for murder. You get the point… big food and lots of it.

Unfortunately we ate at Claim Jumper tonight… wife’s choice. She actually possesses self control and can eat without feeling like she has to eat everything within arm’s length. How I wish that could be me. She likes the salad bar… which takes up the length of a semi truck bed. A lot of variety, good quality and a great meal if you’re more like her than me.

For me, I don’t like eating at Claim Jumper because it can ruin my diet for a month--it always puts me under. I’m part of the .0001 that can actually eat everything put in front of me (even the apple). I don’t need it all… I don’t even want it all… I don’t even have to like it all… but, I can always eat it all. I always finish my food. That’s how I was raised. Maybe you grew up in a similar household. When I was a child I was left feeling guilty if I didn’t clear off all the food on my plate. My mom would say, “Don’t you know there’s starving children in Africa who would love that food?” I felt shame over this statement until I was in the 6th grade… that’s when I thought to say, “Really mom? Name one. Give me the name of one starving African and I’ll believe you.” She quit using that bit, but it was too late for me. I developed the habit of eating everything on my plate, my wife’s plate, kids’ plates, and the plates of the table next to me if they left before I did. I can always eat more.

Tonight I left Claim Jumper a loser once again. I failed. I even ate the slice of lettuce that was there just to decorate my plate… it too was big, the size of a snapping turtle shell. Afterwards I needed help to the car, I stumbled into the house, rolled to computer station where I promptly did a Google search for “liposuction.” Unfortunately, they’re too expensive and not open at 9:00pm. So there I sat, guilty for over eating. Defeated. Sore. And wondering if I got stretch marks around my mouth from eating the apple.

Groundhog Day & the motivation I need

Today is officially Groundhog Day where Punxsutawney Phil (the groundhog) predicts the weather for the rest of the winter (see groundhogday.org). According to legend, if the bloated squirrel sees his shadow there will be 6 more weeks of winter weather. Likewise, if he doesn’t see his shadow, it will be an early spring. It appears quite legit. And today, reports have it that Phil saw his shadow… six more weeks comes winter forecast.

To celebrate this tradition, I have decided I’m going to mirror Groundhog Day festivities with my own version of weight forecasting. If on February 2nd of each of the following years, I haven’t lost 1% of my January 1st weight (207 in 2009) I will commit to eating six weeks of groundhog only. I will actually punish myself and find, kill, sauté, and eat groundhogs. Desperate? Yes! But that’s the type of incentive a failed dieter needs as stimulus. This will cause me to be the Tony Robbins of rodent motivation. Instead of walking on burning coals, I will merely envision the eating of a varmint. I see this working each year.

Luckily for me, this past month I lost more than 2.07 lbs (actually, I lost it and gained it a few times throughout the past month… but I netted a deficit of about 4.5 pounds in January). So, the next six weeks I’m safe… it’s back to normal (rice cakes… then binge on chocolate cake… then, rice cake…).

Why McDonalds is so seductive and pizza is too

Every time I try to be a good dad and give my kids the choice of where to eat I’m the one who ends up paying for it—both financially and physically. My kids never choose Salad Plantation, Tofu Palace, or Mothers (a local restaurant where the motto is: “portions so small and bland that you’ll want to overeat when you get home”). Until about the age of twelve, my kids would always answer the “Where do you want to eat?” question with a shriek of “McDonalds.” Not every once in a while, but every time! The children’s automatic response has conditioned me to now ask my wife first. On the few occasions where she ignorantly says, “I don’t care” I would tell her that I needed her to care or we’d end up at McDeath.

McDonalds (www.mcdonalds.com) has a genius, trademarked air quality system that silently and secretly (until I discovered) pumps a insidious gas thru their ventilation system that actually infuses young children’s cells with an aroma that causes them to want to return. Once children are exposes to this aroma they will never feel fully alive until they return. It’s very complicated to explain and I could do a better job telling you in person, but it’s too confusing to write about in a blog of this nature. Even if a child never enter a McDonalds, they learn this “fully alive feeling” thru playground gossip. Like folklore, children pass onto other children the awe of McDonalds’ indoor playground, the marquee named Happy Meal, the free toy, the great ice cream, and the saltiest and best tasting fries on the planet. This information spreads like chicken pox and children throughout the world are inoculated at a very young age to shout out “McDonalds” to any form of “where to you want to go” type questions.

Honestly, I didn’t mind my kid’s McNasty choice until I was about 30 years old and it was obvious that my metabolism had slowed and this was made clear by random kids asking me if I was a talking Big Mac.

Well, tonight my wife graciously chose Round Table Pizza (www.roundtablepizza.com). I’m not usually a big fan of pizza places because I’m a real big fan of pizza (with an emphasis on ‘big’). I love pizza and as anyone who struggles with their weight will acknowledge, it’s difficult to just eat one slice. Thankfully, our local Round Table Pizza has a salad bar where I can make good choices. Tonight, my first choice was to order the all-you-can-eat verses the single serving salad bar. After two trips to the good, but unsatisfying bar… I chose to eat one piece of pizza. “That’s it” I said to myself. Unfortunately, I kept talking to myself, “That was such a small piece, go ahead and have another. Two small pieces is really like one normal one.” Second piece consumed. My family eats so slow and we ordered more pizza than they can eat and I hate to see food wasted, so I…. Third piece consumed. At this point, it appears that my wife saw the guilt on my face and said, “Why don’t we take the rest home for leftovers?” I quickly said, “Great idea, I’ll go get a box.” I combined the two pizzas into one small box. Though they looked too tight, too uncomfortable, too crowded in one box. The pepperoni slices were touching the Canadian bacon slices and disaster was imminent. Something had to be done. I had to intervene and fix things. I thought, “The food ship is sinking… I’m already wet, what’s a little more water? Eat.” Fourth piece consumed. Get out soon or die.

My learning for today: go to McDonalds next time... they have Happy Meals.

Why all national holidays should be "free" eating days

I’ve declared today (Martin Luther King Day) an eating holiday. It’s only fair. It’s what the King would have wanted (of course, I’m referring to the glutton Elvis). All holidays should be declared free-for-all eating days. Every dieting guru tells you to have an occasional free day where you eat those things that you’ve been depriving yourself… which for me is most types of calories. I’ve been told that one of the main problems with my diet is that I apparently have too many free days. If I learned to limit them to national holidays I might have a better handle on those free days.

Honestly, my bad eating days don’t always start out bad, instead they usually begin with some resolve to have a great day… what I would call an “on” day. An “on” day is where I’ll say something about 10 a.m. like, “Hey, I’m really ‘on’ today I’ve only eaten rice cakes, non-fat yogurt and tree bark. This is going to be a great day and I’ll reap the benefits at tomorrow morning’s weigh-in.” But, something usually slips throughout the “on” day (namely my self control). Then, once I screw up and eat what I know I shouldn’t eat, it’s just so easy to free fall into a “off” day and everything banned on diets seems to appear before me. Now, a rational person reading this might think, “Why does it have to be an ‘off’ day if you mess up with one meal? Why not just get back on your ‘on’ day and not let the entire day be wasted with bad food?” Well my skinny friend, that is a legitimate question and if I had an answer to that simplistic question I wouldn’t describe my eating habits as out of control, undisciplined and psychotic.

Like Martin Luther King, I’ve had a dream for 15 years that I could conquer this complex body-system that is called a metabolism. I know I will… I’ve just got to string a series of “on” days together and limit the “off” days to every other leap year. For now, I’ll have an “off” day today in observance of Martin Luther King Day and I’ll get back “on” tomorrow. Then, I’ll wait for the next national holiday that will appears in a couple of weeks—the Super Bowl.

Deception & Donuts

Unfortunately, deception is an element that failed dieters face. Self deception is real and hurtful, but when the deception targets friends and family, the guilt pours on. This morning my wife and I went to a local donut shop before our son’s baseball game. Sweets are my major weakness and donuts are right on the top of that list. My default donut choice is always an old fashion glazed. In my opinion, it is the perfect donut. If there were such thing as a donut-god, he/she/it would be shaped in the form in an old fashion form. A second donut choice doesn’t deviate that much--old fashion chocolate. I don’t do donuts daily, but I’ll occasionally begin the day with one of these because I know there are people who have been up preparing them since 4am and it serves the economy for me to eat my share (only about once a week). Today my wife chooses to eat “good” and ordered a bagel with turkey. I’m sure that’s not “good” for the Nazi-trainer-type, but for our family… that’s real good. While I’d rather her join me in eating bad (misery loves company) I respect her choice. But, between the two of us, she’s always the stronger when it comes to food, exercise, dieting… and well, morality. Because she shares my diet Coke addiction, and this particular donut store doesn’t have fountain drinks, she goes next door to the 7-11 to fulfill our addictions. While I pay for the donuts I notice the sweet lady working behind the counter graciously added a handful of donut holes to keep my old fashion glazed company. I’ve found this to be common practice at some of the higher end donut stores (those with a bathroom inside). It’s kind of like reverse tipping. I definitely don’t complain, and honestly, I’m thrilled that she went on a Diet Coke field trip. Here’s where the deception appeared… I powered thru all the donut holes without telling her. When you do stuff like that, you learn to justify your actions. In this case, I convinced myself that I didn’t lie to her because she ever asked, “Hey, was there any free donuts that Ms. Lee hid in your donut bag?” Had she asked that question I would have said, “Yes! I ate them.” I would have come clean. She didn’t. Plus, she was eating good and I wanted to help her. That’s the kind of husband I am—thoughtful and deceptive.

Sweet Cravings, Weight Watchers' Points & Skinny Cows

11:15 pm: Sweet cravings are nothing new to me nor the rest of humanity lacking self control. Kings have lost wars that were easier to fight than the sweet craving. Cravings are addressed in every dieting book I own. Because of my extensive library, I’m well aware of all the basic temptation fighters; (1) drink more water, (2) chew a stick of gum, (3) eat some protein, (4) suck on a jalapeno, or (5) use a coat hanger to wire your mouth shut. These basic craving killers work for skinny people, but I’ve tried them all and they don’t work for people who would rather have sugar than meaningful relationships.

I get cravings for sweets on a daily basis and my internal clock seems to strike “sugar” right around bed time. Instead of “winning” against this temptation, I’ve created my own personal cravings strategy where I choose to play for the “tie.” Contrary to what you might think, a “tie” is not giving up. Giving up would be considered a “lose.” For me, a lose would be a binge containing a pint of Haagen-Dazs ice cream chased down with a 16 ounce shot of caramel, then brush my teeth and repeat above… that would be a “lose” (albeit, in a sick way it would also be a win). I can usually settle the sweet craving with a “tie” if I stick to only one sweet item—that’s the real battle.

Tonight I found a Weight Watcher’s Chewy Oatmeal Raisin bar that I was hoping would satisfy my craving. It was hiding in my refrigerator from my Weight Watcher’s days (September—which is usually when I begin my “fall diet”). Weight Watchers uses a point-system and their dessert supplements are usually only worth 1 point. With most cravings, 1 point doesn’t do it for me. This particular bar is small enough for me to snort… not satisfy. I eat it though (because it was there) to hold me over as I moved from the refrigerator to the freezer (an approximate 8 inch body shift). Luckily, as I dig thru the freezer I discover I have one Skinny Cow ice cream sandwich left (140 calories). This is the equivalent of shopping at Costco and having all the sample tables unmanned. It’s awesome! This particular frozen treat will always satisfy the sweet spot for me. Not only do I love the taste of ice cream sandwiches, but it also taps into my childhood, where this particular dessert was a staple from the ice cream truck visits. I should also admit that I actually enjoy eating something that uses the word “cow” in it that won’t clog my artery. The product name (Skinny Cow) definitely fits with another dieting oxymoron—“delicious nonfat...” Using the word “skinny” in dessert is brilliant marketing, much in the same way that Del Taco (www.deltaco) has named their popular “Big Fat Steak Taco” (390 calories). Had they called it The Skinny Lean Steak Taco, it would have been kicked to the curb right next to The Cottage Cheese Enchilada.

Drive-thur Sabotage

January 15, 7:45pm: Nothing too noteworthy here unless you consider that I was one of millions of people today who got ripped-off from the drive-thru vigilante. I ordered eight chicken breasts from El Pollo Loco (http://www.elpolloloco.com/) and when I got home there was six. SIX! Not seven… not nine or even the eight I ordered, but six. How could I have fallen for the oldest trick in the drive-thru book. The trick is full proof: (1) Repeat their order correctly, (2) Act polite when the customer pulls up to the window, (3) Collect the money for eight chicken breasts, (4) Offer the correct change while being perky, (5) Offer napkins and condiments, (6) Hand customer the goods with such confidence that the customer won’t check contents, (7) Say, “Thank you very much” as the customer leaves, (8) Turn to co-workers and make fist-pump gesture as if scoring a touchdown or securing Soviet information for free, (9) Retreat to the mop closet to eat the two stolen chicken breasts, (10) Wait 20 minutes for pissed off customer to call from home and say, “No hablo ingles.”

[my right hand is raised and my left hand is on a Bible… well, not the entire Bible, just the New Testament] “This will never happen again. I promise to always check the contents of my order before I leave the drive-thru so help me God.”

By the way, only two breasts were for me. Hmmm?

An Australian delicacy

January 15, 2:55 pm: Have you ever been so excited to find a $20 bill in a pair of pants that were sitting on your closet floor? I haven’t either, but it sounds like it would be a nice experience. Instead of money, I found something better in the trunk of my car today. I felt like it was God’s favor on me for not smoking with those Western Digital employees. I found a pack of Cherry Ripe. This may not mean much to you, but my friend Janice travels to Australia a few times a year and brings me candy. I am a candy connoisseur and many of their candy varieties are not easy to find in the United States. Cherry Ripe is one of them. This must have slipped out of a little box of treats that she brought me back from down under. The bi-line on the packet read: “Ripe juicy cherries and coconut in old gold rich dark chocolate.” It could have read: “Sweetness so good that it can’t be described because of the fallibility of the human taste-bud.” My definition better defines the product, but their definition has several descriptive adjectives and nouns: ripe, juicy, gold, rich… cherries, coconut, dark chocolate. Tremendous words. I would consider relocating to Australia if I didn’t have Janice as a friend to be my supplier as well as internet access to occasionally buy some international treats. Speaking of friends, one of my best friends Aaron, is with me when I make the discovery in my trunk. Based on my reaction, he thought I found a winning lottery ticket. In a divine way, I kind of did. I said, “Aaron, because I love you so much and because this is a Twin Pack I would like to offer you half of this heavenly candy.” I thought it was a kind gesture, but Aaron said, “Is it because you love me or because you don’t want to getter fatter?” Like I mentioned, he’s one of my best friends and knows me too well. The true answer is neither. I wanted to eat it all by myself, but I felt like I should share my good finding. But, before we ate it, I did a google search to prove to Aaron that it was an Australian delicacy. I found a chocolate blog that reviewed my Cherry Ripe with these words: one shouldn’t merely inhale a Cherry Ripe - this is the only bar that Cadbury makes in Australia that is coated in dark chocolate – excepting the ‘old gold’ bars, so it is rather unique and automatically stands out as a bit more ‘special’ than the usual Cadbury fare. Inside the lovely almost blackish coating is a deliciously moist, Bounty-like coconut mixture generously studded with glace cherries. It tastes much nicer than its rather ordinary depiction. (http://www.chocablog.com/reviews/cadbury-cherry-ripe/)

Jersey Mikes & my memory

January 15, noon: I waited until noon to eat my first anything of the day. There was no good reason to wait except that I was recording a podcast and the people I do it with always supply Jersey Mike sandwiches (http://www.jerseymikes.com/). I know I shouldn’t wait this long to eat but I wanted to have a free meal. But I was so hungry as I drove there I was tempted to pull over and put ketchup on a farm animal. The Jersey Mike’s sandwich’s were of the mini-variety. I should have had just one, but I had two… or three (again, I can’t remember well. Darn that aspartame) and a chocolate chip cookie facsimile (the chocolate chips were replaced with M&M’s).

Bad jogging and my need for a male bra

January 15, 7:30 am: Today was the first time I’ve exercised outside of the gym. I decided to go for a slow run instead of the gym’s machinery (slow run: a seemingly oxymoron unless you’ve seen me run. Running indicates speed and I run slightly faster than my TV). Today, most of the United States was freezing, even below zero in many places, but for reasons only known to Al Gore, it was in the mid-80’s in Southern California. I drove to the parking lot of the Roadway Inn about 6 miles from my house. The hotel sits next to the headquarters of Western Digital (http://www.westerndigital.org/) and a dirt trail that I’ve spent a lot of time on. A few years ago I ran the San Diego Rock & Roll Marathon and did most of my training on this route. Today I decided to run out for 20 minutes and then return. Forty minutes should be easy for an ex-marathoner, right? Well, even though my running shoes still fit, my body somehow slipped into a coma while on the trail. I ran for 18.5 minutes, walked for 1.5 and then turned around at exactly 20 minutes. I’m embarrassed to admit that I fell apart on the return. I ran a little, walked, limped, saw three women running toward me and started running again (pride is an amazing energizer) and walked when they were out of site. At one point I wanted to stop and hang with the Western Digital employees who were out taking a smoking break, but in this case I made the right decision and kept running. I hated every minute of the run except for about 1 minute of joy and laughter at someone else’s expense. What happened was, I ran around a corner and “caught” a woman doing jumping jacks. The reason I know I caught her is because she stopped doing jumping jacks and began to march in place (like that’s less embarrassing). I’m not exactly sure why she felt embarrassed—but she definitely did. In my pain, there was a glimpse of happiness in being the “catcher”. Sometimes exercising can be embarrassing. After momentarily giggling at this lady I suddenly was embarrassed that my breasts were bouncing as I ran (okay, jogged) past her. I’m too insecure to wear a bra and too large not to.

The weight of pee

January 15, 7:00 am: Today, I originally weighed in at 203.4 and rejoiced over my loss of a pound. Yeah! The good news was followed by a short celebration dance. But, once I quickly saw myself in the mirror and realized that what I was seeing wasn’t reason for joy. The dancing stopped. Then I realized that in my rush to weigh-in I had forgotten to going to the bathroom. What? That’s a foundational sin in the world of dieting—weigh in at the same time, in the morning, completely naked, after you’ve gone to the bathroom. I quickly grabbed a Q-Tip and walked to the toilet. Those two don’t necessarily go together, I just like the feeling of clean ears and I usually Q-Tip immediately after a weigh-in (probably more than you wanted to know). Anyway, after urinating like a drunk farm animal I return to my trusty digital scale and remount. Bingo! I pissed away .4 of a pound which is the equivalent weight of my cell phone (wow, that’s an odd image). I know this only because one time I weighed myself while talking on the phone and then re-weighed after my conversation and discovered myself .4 lighter. In case you’re wondering, .4 of a pound in liquid would fill half of a 16 ounce Gatorade bottle (story for another time). When you’re a failed dieter, .4 is a big deal… especially after a day of eating four different meals at four different restaurants.

NBC's The Biggest Loser and my tears

January 14, 10:00 pm: My wife and I watched a recording of NBC’s hit show, The Biggest Loser. It’s a great show! There’s something so moving about fat people crying… especially when they’re fatter and more in need of counseling than yourself. I cry watching them cry. I like to believe that my tears are empathetic while my wife says my tears reveal my need for counseling (more on that later). I go to bed feeling just “okay” about Day 1 of my diet. I think I ate too much and should feel bad, but after watching The Biggest Loser, I’m feeling like I’m a run-way model.

"Healthy" pizza & the Lakers

January 14, 8:20 pm: My last meal of the day was at Zee-Pizza with my wife and youngest daughter. As odd as it sounds, Zee-Pizza is known for pseudo healthy food. It’s confusing because you don’t normally think nutrition with a name like Zee-Pizza. The word “Zee” throws my off every time. I choked down a small (thank you "portion control" police) chicken sandwich and then lightly picked at my daughter’s pesta, pasta noodles. Since we arrived at the restaurant in separate cars, the girls left before me because they didn’t want to watch the last few minutes of the Lakers/Spurs game (that was blaring above our heads while we were eating). Okay, guess which one of these is true: (1) The Lakers won, or (2) I ate the rest of my daughter’s pasta to celebrate my team's victory.

Answer: Spurs 112, Lakers 111

Chick-Fil-A is God's favorite

January 14, 4:00 pm: I went to my favorite fast food restaurant (Chick-Fil-A—where they didn’t invent the chicken, just the chicken sandwich. Cue music. http://www.chick-fil-a.com/). I wasn’t hungry, but I needed to be a place that was near my son’s 5pm baseball game where I could get Wi-Fi and work until his game started. Normally in situations like this I just drink ice tea or Diet Coke. Today I ordered an ice tea—unsweetened—since their sweet team gives me a stomach ache and makes me think I just ate three baskets of chips at a Mexican restaurant (do you know that feeling?). Though I wasn’t hungry, that feeling was trumped by the fact that I had a coupon for a free Chick-Fil-A sandwich. If you haven’t eaten here, you don’t really understand the temptation I faced. This was like possessing a coupon for a free first class trip to Europe or a free transmission. I couldn’t pass it up. I would feel like I was walking outside of God’s will to not use it. I chose my favorite—the classic Chick-Fil-A sandwich… a lovely snack. When I finished eating I beat myself up a little for not choosing the charbroiled chicken sandwich (260 calories; 3grams of fat) instead of God’s favorite sandwich, the fried one (410 calories; 16 grams of fat). Instead of filling guilty I told myself that I need to always have my copy of the book, Eat This, Not That. Oh well, at least I didn’t order the waffle fries (420 calories; 24grams of fat).

Lunch with friends who don't diet

January 14, 12:05 pm: For lunch I went with a couple of buddies from work to Red Robin (http://www.redrobin.org/). This is our staple restraint because it can accommodate our appetites and diets. Regardless of how you’re eating on a particular day, you can get what you want. For example, since this was diet Day 1—I got a chicken breast and salad with non-fat dressing (yes, I’ve learned). My friend Bill ordered a huge hamburger that held a fried egg and enough cheese to fit in my shoe (size 10—the only thing that hasn’t grown on me in 15 years). Bill was falling off the wagon for this meal. Normally the strongest of us yo-yo types. Throughout November and December he lost 40 pounds on the Lindora program (http://www.lindorahealthclinics.com/). Pretty impressive, although it’s fairly expensive to join. You can read about it on your own, but the foundation of the diet (uh, lifestyle change) is to limit carbs to almost nothing. I’ve teased Bill that as soon as he eats a crouton he will morph back to his fat dude self weight. Secretly I want that to happen, although I’m not sure why. My jealousy may be because he’s made it seem too easy, or because he can afford the program and I can’t, or most likely it’s because fat-Bill is always guilty-Bill and guilty-Bill always ends picking up the lunch tab. For some odd reason that I don’t inquire about, when Bill is fat, he more liberal with his money. I know, I need counseling (more on that later). I don’t remember what Steve had for lunch, but I do recall him cleaning out Bill’s all-you-can-eat fries (one of the reasons that Red Robin is popular). I had some of Bill’s fries too… about four, or ten… I can’t remember. I did remember I was supposed to eat good today but it was really difficult when Mrs. Refill Waitress kept bringing all of us Bill’s fries. Eventually I asked him to remove them to his side of the table.

Portion Control & Thousand Island Dressing

January 14, 10:15 am: Post work-out I drove thru McDonalds for the Fruit & Yogurt Parfait (pronounced “par-fay”). I choose the smaller one, and only because it’s $1, but because it’s smaller and this year’s diet is going to be about portion control. Actually, all diets seem to revolve around the small-portions philosophy. An exception would be the all-you-can salad diet that I invented several years ago. I ate salad at every meal for week. I stopped after gaining nine pounds. I didn’t realize that my heaping of Thousand Island and Ranch dressings had so many calories. Who knew salad could be so fattening?

600 vs. 626 Calories

January 14, 9:30 am: My gym membership is still active and after jogging thru the doors I completed a hearty thirty-eight minutes on the Elliptical trainer. 600 calories burned. Count em. Only 2100 shy of losing a pound. For some stupid reason I chose to get off the machine at the round number of 600 calories instead of the round number of 40 minutes. Not exactly sure why. Those two extra minutes would have sent my Day 1 total to 626 calories (2074 shy of a pound). Next time I’ll go longer.

The good thing about beginning my diet on January 14th is all the people who fail at diets and exercise programs have already quit going to the gym. It wasn’t crowded for a morning workout… oh wait, I guess 9:30 isn’t really morning.

Slow Start

January 14, 9:00 am: I started the morning off with a bang! Well, kind of, not sure 9am is considered bang-worthy (don’t go there). While I’m not exactly a “morning type person” I do own an alarm clock. Usually, my clock is set for 6:45 but last night I went to a movie with some friends and didn’t return until after midnight. Then, I walked in the house and my college-age daughter was watching American Idol with some of her girlfriends. It was the first show of the new season and they were highlighting bad singing, Simon’s mean spirit and Paula’s sweetness. I stopped to watch a little. I noticed that Randy Jackson has packed on a few pounds that he shed prior to last season. As I sat down I automatically invaded the bowl of peanut M&M’s that were left alone. My mind didn’t engage that I was dieting until they were settling nicely into my mouth. When it hit me, I said to my internal self (who rarely ever listens), “just one handful.” Four handfuls later I asked my daughter to remove them from my presence. Removal is my default method of self-control. I figure that if I can’t reach it I won’t eat it. The truth is that I also need to ask someone to cut off my legs. Well, that’s how I ended my day yesterday which led to a slow start this morning.

Jan. 14: I've "officially" began new year's diet (weight 204.4)

Today was the day! Cue marching band music. The official date of my diet and exercise plan. I’m convinced this time I will find victory because of daily accountability thru this blog. Health experts say that one of the keys to effective weight loss is keeping a food journal. That is exactly what I’m doing. This will be the greatest food journal in the history of food journals. Something about typing what I eat feels different and more motivating than the 74 handwritten food journals I’ve done before. It’s going to work this time because, (1) I feel tremendous resolve, (2) I’m shooting a video for my job on January 29th and I desperately want to be down 10 pounds (cameras already add 10 pounds to you—and I’ll have three cameras on me), and (3) I feel like a big, fat animal in need of liposuction or a starting date. I can’t afford medical treatment so I begin the diet today.

Regardless of the title of this blog, I feel confident that this time will be different.

January 10: Ditto

It’s Saturday again (see January 3rd).

January 9: losing memory due to aspartame

I forgot to start my diet today. I think my memory is failing from all the Diet Coke (aspartame) that I’ve been guzzling since my mid-twenties. (See: who I am and why I suck at dieting)

January 8: Can't begin a diet when the Orange Bowl is on!

I badly wanted to begin my new diet today, but it was the night of the Orange Bowl and people came to our house to: (1) watch the game, (2) eat bad food, and (3) play pin the tail on the fat host. Too many tempting snacks… I’ll start tomorrow.

January 5: First Monday of the year-great day to begin a diet-not for me

Today is the first Monday of the new year, yet I was too tired and too unmotivated to begin an intense diet and exercise program. I’m not quitting… I’m just creating a delay.

January 3: weight 207.2... Saturday is bad day to begin a diet

While my pants are cutting off my circulation and my third chin can hide the Twinkie I’m craving, I’ve definitely been fatter than I am now! I was 215 lbs at some point this past year and I do remember setting a goal to be 195 at the start of this new year. Unfortunately, I’ve proven that goal-setting is overrated. Oh well! While I’m home from vacation, I decided that today (Saturday) is the worst day to start a diet. I’m sure studies reveal that fact so I’ll wait until the first Monday of the new year to begin. This is the national holiday for dieters—we all jump on the band wagon… and it tips over.

January 1: I can't start diet today

January 1: As much as I wanted to, I didn’t begin my diet today because I’m technically still on vacation. It’s not fair to have my family make food adjustments just because I’m the one who needs to lose some weight (25 pounds). I’ll definitely start later in the week. Plus, if I happen to gain a few extra pounds while on vacation, they will come off a lot easier this first month and it will “feel” more victorious. Those types of tricks motivate me.