I don't have the patience
This diet isn't actually so bad, once you get over the starving every two hours bit, and the asparagus-smelling pee... but I just don't have the patience to stick to it for months and months in order to lose what I want.
My expectations are too high.
Maybe instead of wanting to fit into an actual dress (as opposed to something resembling a potato sack with ruffles), perhaps I should aim for going back to the size I was two years ago. That would be about fifty pounds lighter than I am now. Actually... that's pretty high of a goal as well. How about, thirty pounds... do you think I can do that?
Argh... how about I just stay happy with the way I am now, sod the diet, and die happy like Thelma and Louise ('cept driving off the cliff partner would be a box of Krispy Kreme donuts).
I haven't told anyone at the office yet about my diet. I sneak in the mini-meal snacks while at my desk, which may mean eating some things cold, and quickly, but I find it easier than having to explain why I have grapefruit juice over the legal fees report (ignore it and it will go away is my motto).
Another reason why I hate to tell people about my diets, is that they always feel free to give me advice. I love advice, and welcome it usually... but when it comes to diets, I've done them all. I know what Weight Watchers teaches, I've seen Atkins do wonders (and what it does to my toilet), and that whole drown yourself in drinking water tip is tattooed across my forehead. I got that. Yet, everyday instead of just laughing at these pathetic little entries (which is the actual goal - to provide humor through my pain), I get email after email of diet tips.
It doesn't help getting diet tips from skinny people either. I don't want to hear about how they dropped from a size 8 to a size 4. Put on a size 22 and see what skinny looks to you then.
I do have one friend that I love speaking diets to. She's weight-challenged like myself, and takes on a more realistic approach to diets. I call her Slush, because well.. she's a bit of a lush and a... ahem, friendly girl. If ever a time occurs when both of us are dieting, communication between us is this:
Me: Hey Slush, how's it going? I did great this morning, I walked the dogs to the mailbox and back (aerobic exercise), only ate one piece of toast, and I'm not even hungry! How's your diet?
Slush: Ash, I'm in misery. I ate a whole cake last night. If we lived together again, you could've had the bowl of icing that never made it to the cake.
I want a personal trainer. A big muscly man who can't keep his hands off of me. That'll never happen, I'll settle for the pimply pizza delivery boy. Mmm pizza. Come over and we'll have some pizza.
By the way, how many calories in a fifth of vodka?
Slush and I made a pact a few months ago. We'd both start weight watchers, and in a year we'll weigh ourselves. For every pound I lost, she would owe me $2. For every pound she lost, I would owe her $2. If she lost more than 60, I'd take her to the Caribbean.
Two months later I hadn't even begun the diet, and she wrote this:
Ash, I ate half a cake last night, and the second half is looking good this morning. I feel like having chinese food. I was depressed, I needed food. I suck, I'll never diet successfully.
How many weight watchers points are in Bourbon?
My expectations are too high.
Maybe instead of wanting to fit into an actual dress (as opposed to something resembling a potato sack with ruffles), perhaps I should aim for going back to the size I was two years ago. That would be about fifty pounds lighter than I am now. Actually... that's pretty high of a goal as well. How about, thirty pounds... do you think I can do that?
Argh... how about I just stay happy with the way I am now, sod the diet, and die happy like Thelma and Louise ('cept driving off the cliff partner would be a box of Krispy Kreme donuts).
I haven't told anyone at the office yet about my diet. I sneak in the mini-meal snacks while at my desk, which may mean eating some things cold, and quickly, but I find it easier than having to explain why I have grapefruit juice over the legal fees report (ignore it and it will go away is my motto).
Another reason why I hate to tell people about my diets, is that they always feel free to give me advice. I love advice, and welcome it usually... but when it comes to diets, I've done them all. I know what Weight Watchers teaches, I've seen Atkins do wonders (and what it does to my toilet), and that whole drown yourself in drinking water tip is tattooed across my forehead. I got that. Yet, everyday instead of just laughing at these pathetic little entries (which is the actual goal - to provide humor through my pain), I get email after email of diet tips.
It doesn't help getting diet tips from skinny people either. I don't want to hear about how they dropped from a size 8 to a size 4. Put on a size 22 and see what skinny looks to you then.
I do have one friend that I love speaking diets to. She's weight-challenged like myself, and takes on a more realistic approach to diets. I call her Slush, because well.. she's a bit of a lush and a... ahem, friendly girl. If ever a time occurs when both of us are dieting, communication between us is this:
Me: Hey Slush, how's it going? I did great this morning, I walked the dogs to the mailbox and back (aerobic exercise), only ate one piece of toast, and I'm not even hungry! How's your diet?
Slush: Ash, I'm in misery. I ate a whole cake last night. If we lived together again, you could've had the bowl of icing that never made it to the cake.
I want a personal trainer. A big muscly man who can't keep his hands off of me. That'll never happen, I'll settle for the pimply pizza delivery boy. Mmm pizza. Come over and we'll have some pizza.
By the way, how many calories in a fifth of vodka?
Slush and I made a pact a few months ago. We'd both start weight watchers, and in a year we'll weigh ourselves. For every pound I lost, she would owe me $2. For every pound she lost, I would owe her $2. If she lost more than 60, I'd take her to the Caribbean.
Two months later I hadn't even begun the diet, and she wrote this:
Ash, I ate half a cake last night, and the second half is looking good this morning. I feel like having chinese food. I was depressed, I needed food. I suck, I'll never diet successfully.
How many weight watchers points are in Bourbon?
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