Jackie Wells-Fauth
I was out for dinner last week when I overheard a conversation that really resonated with me.
“My New Year’s Resolution this year is to lose weight,” came the determined declaration of a young lady at a neighboring table. “After all, God loves a healthy girl.”
“So, the same resolution as last year,” drawled her companion cheerfully, “And the year before that, and…”
This cynical observation was interrupted by a sharp rap on the shoulder from the young lady setting her resolutions, but the fact that everyone, including her, laughed, told me this was probably a correct assessment.
But I can truly relate to this resolution and I don’t think it’s too chancy of me to say I’m not alone. How many people, every year, including me, set losing weight as their New Year’s Resolution, only to have their good intentions blasted out of the water by a January filled with lots of calories?
It is, however, a legitimate choice for a new start. After eating the fatted cow all through the holiday season, I wager we are all finding the waistband on our trousers a little tight. The merchandizers of the world long ago caught on: After pushing every candy and snack possible at Christmas, January’s ads are all about exercise equipment and diet deals.
And while I do try to clean up my eating habits after abusing them horribly during the criminal holidays, I stopped calling it a diet some time ago. And this philosophy, although rocky at times, serves me pretty well. I simply resolve not to resolve to lose weight. Simple, right?
“I thought you weren’t dieting any more,” a friend will say after I have selected the sugar-free beverage (with obvious reluctance).
“Oh, I’m not dieting,” I say, with false cheerfulness, “I really like this diet soda…it has a delightful aftertaste.”
“It tastes like the inside of an oil can,” my friend answers, “admit it, you’re on a diet.”
“I’m not on a diet; I’m just exploring new and nasty tastes,” I insist, but we both know the truth: Resolution or not, I am counting calories in the new year and I’m reminded of it everywhere.
Choosing a muffin over a frosted roll is a major dilemma.
“You know, it is a proven fact that in order to lose weight and keep it off, you have to give up high calorie things for good,” the television dietician states positively.
How sad that makes me, but I know it is probably true. That does not, however, mean that I don’t cheat on my marriage to high fiber muffins by stepping out with a roll slathered in frosting once in a while. After all, I have not made a new year’s resolution to diet. I just try to keep the sugary activities to a minimum. But I’m not dieting. My resolution is to not diet.
Which brings me to my greatest enemy…the bathroom scale. None of this non-dieting thing works if the scale doesn’t cooperate. I regard my scale with all the affection that Elmer Fudd had for Bugs Bunny. And occasionally, as I watch the dial spin higher and higher, I fantasize about shooting it.
When I first began my “non-diet,” I wouldn’t step on the scale if Roy was in the house.
“It won’t change just because I’m here or not here, you know,” he pointed out, the first time I demanded he vacate the premises during the morning weigh-in.
“I know, but if it’s too high, I want to keep my screaming to myself, without any witnesses,” I explained.
“And if it’s nice and low?”
“Then you’ll have to come back into the house sometime and I can brag about it then,” I concluded.
So far, my resolution to not diet has worked out pretty well. And if I don’t maintain the weight I want, I won’t worry too much. After all, God loves a chubby girl, too!
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