My weight fluctuates like an over-caffeinated pendulum and my ambition to reign that all in swerves just as drunkenly. You name the diet and I’ve probably tried it. My inspirations and following failures are what spurs the billion dollar dieting industry. My latest bumper car ride has found me against Weight Watchers. For me, the accountability of stepping on a scale in front of a virtual stranger scares me into tracking my foods and stepping onto an elliptical machine more often than usual.
I broke up with Weight Watchers on the eve of last summer. A lethal combination of emotional drama in my life mixed well with the decision that I valued my relationship with margaritas and nachos much more than zero-point soups and fat-free cheese. I continued to pay the monthly diet fees for membership all through the summer despite taking a five-month hiatus. Cancelling the membership meant I was a quitter, when really, the diet and I were just on a break. In September, I knew I needed to start up again but also knew I’d gained some of the weight I’d lost. So instead of doing the walk of shame to the scale, I insisted I’d lose the ten pounds I’d gained over the summer before I showed up at a meeting to lose the rest
of it.
Hey, it made perfect sense to me. I didn’t want to admit my failure going off the sacred ‘plan’. I knew how the plan worked; unfortunately, I couldn’t work the plan. You can imagine how that went. I rekindled the diet romance right before the holidays, because what’s more depressing than tracking a full Thanksgiving meal along with bottomless glasses of wine? I’m happy to say I survived the demons of Halloween candy, Thanksgiving gluttony, and Christmas cookie, stress-induced binges. My goal through the whole season was to maintain what little I had lost in the last year and hold steady until January.
We all know what January means. Resolutions and resolve to live a better life. Along with being a serial dieter, I’m also guilty of over-planning resolutions and personal goals. I’m in love with making long lists of the many ways I will improve my life. In case anyone wondered, January 17th is officially “Ditch New Year’s Resolutions Day”. I’d counter that and say, for me, every Friday at 4 o’clock is “Table My Resolutions for the Weekend Day”. If I didn’t allow for indulgence, I risk that summertime all-or-nothing dieting mindset. The gym and the points counter will still be waiting for me when I wake up in a fog on Monday morning. I don’t necessarily like tracking the dips and chips and sips of wine, but I sure do love the way my jeans fit after committing to my health.
So what if I I’m not the perfect picture of dieting? I save the weekends for margaritas and nachos.
By Kelly Pollard