The Neverending Diet Cycle
“Optimism is the hallmark of a successful man.” I don’t know who said that but I’ve always thought it rings true. The successful man needs to rise above whatever obstacles are in his way, to see the possibilities and work toward a goal with confidence and optimism that anything is possible. I’d like to think, if one were to tweak that adage slightly, you might say that optimism is also the hallmark of every woman … on a diet. [SIGNUP]
That would be me. I’ve been on a diet as long as I can remember. Cookie diets and cottage cheese diets, seaweed and low-carb, South Beach, Stillman, Atkins and Master Cleanse, cabbage soup, fat-counting, calorie-counting, weighing, measuring, and staying in the Zone. You name it, I’ve tried it. I’ve been to spas and gyms, hypnotists and therapists and, as the years go by, my weight inches up higher and higher. But, with optimism in my heart and determination as my companion, I wake each day convinced that I can conquer the monster, achieve success and maybe someday look like a skinny bitch myself. This renewed commitment to shed the extra pounds becomes my obsession twice a year, when I change out my clothing for the next season.
I’m lucky enough to live in a wonderful old house that is lacking in adequate closet space. Not because I don’t have a big enough closet, but rather, because I own too much clothing. I have piles and piles of what we seasoned dieters like to call “incentive” clothing. My clothing “spread” encompasses at least three sizes. It’s not that I keep everything I’ve ever owned, just those favorites that I used to look really good in, or the designer stuff that was way too expensive and I just know, really I just know, that I’ll fit into again one day.
So, around this time of year, I put away all those shorts and cotton short-sleeved shirts (that I didn’t wear because they’re still too snug… maybe next year) and drag plastic keepers full of the winter items that I’ll be needing as the weather changes down the hallway and into my room. I go through the keepers intent on purging only to find that I can’t part with a thing because, even though most items are still too small, I’m sure, really sure, that I’ll be in them by Thanksgiving, or Christmas at the very least. I mean I’m really, really sure, and so they all get neatly folded and placed onto the closet shelves, largest sizes on top down to the smallest size on the very bottom (I’m practical enough to know that I won’t need to get to the smaller stuff until Christmas, well maybe Valentine’s Day).
I now have a dozen or so piles on my closet shelves and plenty of clothing hanging in my closet that, let’s be honest, I probably won’t get into until Valentine’s Day or maybe St. Paddy’s. But, not to worry, because I’m an optimist, I know that I will. By Easter, for sure.