With the Royal Wedding being a mere six months away, I decided this Queen Bee needs to drop some imperial poundage.
The “dress” finally arrived and I ordered it a size smaller than I usually wear. So stupid. In my mind it was a brilliant ploy to fool my body into thinking the zipper would surely zip — if I prayed hard enough.
So now, I’m screwed. I know, rationally, I need to simply eat healthier and run more, and while I’m at it, maybe I can also employ the superpower of invisibility and flight. That’s how much faith I have in myself.
I’ve used the occasion of my last surgery in December as my best justification for ceasing to run. I tell you, mastectomy surgeries are like, the best excuse ever to get out of any task, from exercising to carpooling to volunteering to work the snack bar at wrestling meets.
At any rate, I truly wanted to get into the running frame of mind, I really did. But it was so cold outside! Brrrrrr. My rule is that if my nasal waste freezes, I run back home. So, of course I’ve been running back home. Also, my running shoes are worn out and hurt my feet. Also, I have varicose veins and no one wants to see those bad boys throb. And just when the weather gets warmer, wouldn’t you know? It rained. I can’t run in the rain. It’s dangerous! To my hair.
But. Now, I have no choice. Off I go. I’ll run like the wind. If the wind chill is above 40 degrees and the humidity is 20 percent and Jupiter aligns with Mars and it’s a day that doesn’t end in “y.”
Adding to this “setting myself up for failure” motif, I decided to join Weight Watchers; not the real Weight Watchers, the world wide web of Weight Watchers. Just like Oprah! As if.
So I downloaded this new era of weight loss nonsense and just like magic, it calculates how many “points” I’m allowed to ingest daily — based on my weight and the amount of lard I need gone.
Piece of (sugar free, fat free) cake. How hard can it be?
I need to lose 11 pounds and never find it again. I can do that, right? Any idiot can do that! Just count the damn points and enter them into your phone. Well. It went swimmingly for three days. And then, I lied a lot.
I said to myself, “Self. No one in that smart phone knows that you’re counting two boxes of Cracker Jacks as 1/2 cup unbuttered popcorn. Just do it!” And I did. I also rationalized that since chicken is only 3 points, chicken wings must also only be 3 points. Chicken is chicken!
Imagine my feigned shock when I learned there’s a 7-point difference between a piece of plain chicken and a few fried wings. Who made up these stupid rules, anyway? Oprah? Also, just because Apple Jacks cereal has the word “apple” in the name, you can’t count it as a fruit. Why the hell not? I did anyway.
So it should come as no surprise to anyone out there that since starting this regimen, I’ve gained 4 pounds. Four pounds on someone the same stature as Dora the Explorer is a DIET DON’T. Since I’m now a Weight Watchers drop-out and I have no back-up plan, there’s only one solution. I must send back the dress in exchange for my real size. AND, I will walk to the post office. See how hard I’m trying?
Ohhh. It’s windy. I better drive.
Maria Jiunta Heck of West Pittston is a mother of three and a business owner who lives to dissect the minutiae of life. Send Maria an email at firstname.lastname@example.org.