Not Sugar-Coated

Lately, I’ve been darting around, trying to latch onto some program—any program—that will help me lose this final 25 pounds. For a day, I’ll decide that Overeaters Anonymous is the way to go. The next, I’ll decide to see a nutritionist. Then, I’ll go back to Weight Watchers. Then, I’ll decide what I really need is a good shrink. And finally, I’ll chuck all of that, pour a stiff drink, and complain about it to my friends, who all assure me that I’m looking great.

Clearly, I need help.

Logically speaking, it doesn’t really matter what plan I choose, as long as I stick with it. No matter what particular plan I choose, all of them will involve eating less and moving more which guarantees (you guessed it) weight loss. But I keep searching, anxiously looking for the perfect plan that will solve all my neuroses, make me feel full 100% of the time, and make me magically thin, without breaking a sweat.

Even in my deranged state, I realize that such a plan doesn’t exist. You have to give me credit for that, at the very least.

You know, during the winter of 2009 (when I was at my heaviest weight), I remember lying in bed, imagining scenarios where I could magically become thin. I imagined my parents sending me to a year-long fat camp, where all I’d do was focus on losing weight and getting active. I imagined living in a place where my food and activity was out of my control, where I’d get thin no matter what, because I didn’t have a choice in the matter. I imagined how I’d emerge from that camp--130 lbs, tanned and fit, a whole new person. Then, everything in my life would be perfect.

Instead of waiting around for my parents to send me to this mythical camp, I joined Weight Watchers and began the process of losing weight and getting into shape. I have to say, while my experience has been a lot less glamorous than my fantasy, there have been a few magical moments. Being mistaken for my adorable, petite sister at Easter. Fitting easily into a size 12 jeans. Being carried by a guy. Wearing high heels without pain.

So, I need to re-learn my lesson from last year: No one is going to send me to fat camp. If I want to lose this weight, I need to do what it takes to get there. That means buying healthy groceries, preparing good meals and sticking to my points. It also means making activity a regular part of my life. It means that making peanut butter cookies and eating the whole batch can’t be a regular Sunday afternoon activity and that a pint of ice cream is not a serving size. Unfortunately, there’s no way to sugar coat this.

Haha, yes, I couldn’t resist the pun.