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The Trials and Tribulations of Dieting
By Deborah Taylor-Hollis
I put up a new list of house rules in the kitchen today. It isn't very much, but I wanted things spelled out clearly for the next 30 days--what I am willing to do, and what I expect of others around me.
"House rules during diet: (1) I will take basic care of Stuart: food; clean clothes; to/from school; homework done; to bed on time; (2) There will be clean underwear for everyone; (3) House plants will not die; (4) Bills will be paid, banking done. (5) I require one hour a day to hit the gym; all the sleep I can handle; lots of fresh fruit/vegetables; all the walking time I need, anytime I need it; lots of support and verbal encouragement; NO NAGGING, NO EXPECTATIONS, NO EATING CRAP IN FRONT OF ME," it reads. You see, I have started the diet.
I thought I would keep expectations simple this time. I don't promise to do more than keep our son alive and make sure the house isn't repossessed, and my supportive spouse will live as he did during college, where everything that happened was either (1) spontaneous; or (2) by order of the police department. This is because I need to focus on getting small. Nothing else works.
My greatest slogan of the '80s was "No time to cut down on sugar!" and it was just that--things moved at a rapid, increasingly unfamiliar pace. To slow down would be to lose a bid on the house you wanted, lose out on a job interview, watch your credit card rate jump from 12 percent to 29 percent. You were on the "upwardly mobile treadmill," and to slow down--much less get off and enjoy the mild success you had attained--was folly. Nor could you notice those "pounds" you were gaining.
Then the '90s arrived, and we had greed, revenge, high-speed car chases and a child to distract us from anything and everything important piling up in the corners--including the fact that I could no longer fit into pants made in Asia. Even a size 20 in Singapore is still smaller than Elle McPherson on a good day. It was time to start thinking about it.
Yes, you heard me--thinking about it. You can't just rush into something this all-encompassing without serious, long-term thought. You need to plan out the campaign, make arrangements and save up your cash for new clothes once you start to drop a few pounds. You don't wait until you hit your goal--that is sure failure. No one ever, in the history of the world, hit their target weight-loss goal. Some hit the goal they told other people about, but deep inside, they really had another 5 pounds they wanted to shed and could never, ever get to come off.
So don't wait to get where you really want to be. Buy new clothes when you've lost between 3.2 and 4 pounds. You will look better, feel great, and it will encourage you to stay on that diet and lose another .06 pounds.
After you think about it a while, and you're sure this is something you can manage, then you need to make "the plan." Most people want to start the "diet" on an important day--several thousand overweight Americans have been to begin their diets for several months, diligently waiting so they can start on the first day of the new millennium in the year 2000.
Once you have a plan and a target date, then comes the really nasty part--you have to give the appearance of doing it. All of a sudden, your cabinets are open and empty. No Hostess boxes, no bags of chips, no more puddings or ice cream cones, no more bagels, donuts and cheese (it's dairy, but so sodium rich!) and maybe eggs, and all that pasta (too many carbs) and out go the meats (no proteins) and all the diet sodas (heavy carbonation and no nutritional value) and the cereals (high sugar). Suddenly your entire household is expected to survive on bottled water, fresh vegetables, a smattering of fruits (not too many--lots of natural sugars!) and plain popcorn (the fiber is good for you and it fills you up). Now, this would be fine if the household consisted of you and an ant farm, but it does not. We still have to keep our children alive while we diet. Our husbands can fend for themselves.
So, as summer wanes and we all decide that we will never put on a bathing suit again (meaning we have to swim in hubby's castoff T-shirts), remember to warn your family of your commitment to getting it off and keeping it off. And keep their expectations low--that way, if you brush your hair they'll think it's a miracle.
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Willow Glen, California Since 1992
