Getting rid of these 27 pounds has been so gradual (8 months) that I didn’t realize until I tried yesterday that I could fit into the orange linen cropped pants I bought on clearance a year ago. And when I’m thinking at 8 o’clock every night about another helping of whatever, I also tend to forget what a good thing it is to get rid of this dead weight.
I italicize because I’m a true hysteric, which is part of the weight problem. Moderation in all — for that matter, any– — things is as alien to us drama queens as growing blue hedgehog quills or popping out steel fingernails. Feel miserable? Eat a bucket of something and feel miserable in a different way. Feel just so-so? Eat anything because not feeling wonderful or awful is not really feeling. Oy, as my better-balanced friends would say.
But these days when my hand brushes against the beginnings of a defined hip, I also think, hmmm. Another 21 pounds and that might be a hip without a baggy stomach next to it and wouldn’t that be cool? I saw a photo of myself with the stray dog we’re trying to get rid of and thought, My legs (in shorts) look not bad. Which means another bike ride this morning. And eating intelligently all day today before we go to Keaton’s Barbecue with friends tonight.
I’ll aim for lots of water today, along with bushels of vegetables, fruit, some cottage cheese for breakfast and an egg white omelet for lunch. I’ve looked online at the Keaton’s menu and know I want to save fat grams for their mac ‘n’ cheese or banana pudding. I’m learning to eat vinegar-y “barbecue” slaw and to skip the mayonnaise-based alternative when eating out. I’ll enjoy my barbecued chicken with as little skin and sauce as possible, savoring the moist, seasoned dark meat for itself.
The recipe’s a secret — really, the owners wouldn’t share with Roadfood or The Splendid Table. If you want, you can go to their website (link above) and order some for yourself. While ordering, you’ll listen to Ray Charles singing “America the Beautiful,” one of those non-food pleasures that brighten the corners where we are.
And, of course, note to self: The reason for eating out is the sociability of the occasion, not the piggability. I think I can, I think I can…….
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