New Year’s Resolutions (or as a friend of mine said today, “New Year’s Revolutions!”) seem to be a tradition in failure. Very few of mine have lasted more than three weeks, and although the old adage is “If you do something for 29 days, it becomes a habit,” I guess I am just exceptionally good at breaking habits.
One of my bad habits is eating too much of good things. I don’t think my diet is incredibly bad (remember, chocolate is a food group in my house) - I eat a lot of yogurt, which is good... except when you eat a LOT of it. Peanut butter is a great source of protein, and since I eat very little meat, that’s important... except when you plaster it on my toast much like mortar (you can measure the level of peanut butter in inches... like 3-4 inches....). And I drink ONLY Diet Dr. Pepper and Diet Coke... but hardly anything other than that. I eat a couple of apples a day, and that’s not terrible... right?
The main reason for my excess storage-space (i.e. FAT) is that my 52 year old body has gotten very well acquainted with afore-mentioned storage-space (i.e., FLAB) and remains committed to a long-term relationship with this cell-condition (i.e. ENDOMORPHIC).
But, ever the militant optimistic, I persevere in maintaining the yearly appointment with frustration. Armed with a tape measure, banishing the scale, and with a fridge newly stocked with yogurt (but not too much), sequestrating the sodas (now that is just keeping away... they still will be accessible with a little bit of work... well, actually, it won’t be that hard to get to... maybe I should go sink them into the horses’ water-tank or hid them inside one of the extremely prickly mesquite trees we have in abundance), and somehow believing it is possible, I once again set out in my quest to obtain my ideal weight (that is, what I weighed last time I left Hawaii, was running four miles a day, and actually looked GOOD in a bathing suit).
Wish me luck - or perhaps a miracle.
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