I hate dieting. Dieting means I have to stop eating a lot of foods that I really like, and I don’t want to do that. I like to eat good food.
But I really have no other choice. I’m, quite, literally getting too big for my britches.
Once I eliminated the possibility that the dry cleaners had made a mistake, I realized that something had to give and I could only hope it wouldn’t be the seam in the back of my pants.
Now that it’s spring, I’m taking long walks with Milly, the liver and white springer spaniel that lives at my house. That helps. But I have to change what I eat, too.
In some ways, I’m lucky. My doctor says my blood pressure and cholesterol are fine, so I don’t have health issues hanging over my head. And I don’t worry about getting into shape. I am in shape. Round is a shape.
But I think I’ll feel better if I lost a few pounds, not to mention that the aforementioned britches will fit better. So no matter how hard it might be, I’m officially dieting.
Food is a very important part of Southern life, and the idea that I’ve got to give that up to eat rabbit food pains me.
My mother is the perfect Southern cook. Nobody can make a mess of friend chicken, or country fried steak or meatloaf like she can.
A typical meal at my house growing up was something like this: Fried chicken, rice and gravy, white acre peas, butter beans, creamed corn, sliced tomatoes and cucumbers, corn bread, a generous supply of sweet tea and, often, lemon pie for dessert.
Mama always said the same thing. “I hope everybody gets enough.”
Of course, there was no way you couldn’t get enough. There was enough food on the table to feed every hungry person in Early County. Twice.
Back in those days, I could eat several helpings of my mother’s cooking and never gain a pound. Not anymore.
Today, I’m eating lots of salads and steamed vegetables and baked chicken. It’s filling, but if you really want me to get excited about a diet, you should make diet food taste like bacon double cheeseburgers, key lime pie and Chips Ahoy chocolate chip cookies, which have been my favorite since childhood.
My biggest problem is finding something to snack on. I love cookies and chips, and a Snickers bar is one of God’s greatest creations. Of course, none of these is on any idea I know of.
A friend snacks on rice cakes. She keeps a bag in her desk to munch on during the day.
I’m not going to eat rice cakes. I believe the good Lord has a plan for everything, and, if as a part of that plan, He had wanted man to eat rice cakes, he wouldn’t have made them taste like Styrofoam.
“You just need to try the flavored ones,” my friend said.
So I tried one that was flavored to taste like peanut butter. I was not impressed. It tasted like someone had smeared a little peanut butter on a piece of Styrofoam.
If manufacturers really wanted to increase the sales of rice cakes, they seriously ought to consider making those suckers taste like Snickers bars.
I’m about a week into the diet, and I’m doing OK. I just hope the boss doesn’t bring doughnuts today.
