To all the foods I’ve loved before…

I’m on a diet.

No, scratch that, not a diet. I’ve changed my lifestyle.

Shit. That sounds worse. As if I’ve deserted my children and taken up residence in some hippy-dippy commune where we eat nothing but lentils and couscous and spend our hours doing Bikram yoga and chanting praise in honor of the Flying Spaghetti Monster…

…ooooh, spaghetti! I miss spaghetti. Large portions of it smothered in something cheesy. With mushrooms. And cheese.

But, I eat very little pasta anymore. Very little of anything, if you ask me. For Christmas dinner, I prepared a beautiful Lobster Bisque, with lots of cream, nearly-caramelized sweet Vidalia onions and huge chunks of lobster tail. A tiny bit of French sea salt cut some of the sweetness and it was topped with a dollop of unsweetened whipped cream and a pinch of nutmeg.

I got about a teaspoon full.

And the turkey? It turned out beautifully this year, all juicy and tender, with a brilliant rub that made the skin crisp and fragrant. I ate a mouthful. No crispy skin. And the mashed potatoes with roasted garlic and cream cheese smashed into them were a masterpiece, I tell you. Not that I ate much of them. I think I have a cavity that is larger than the portion of them I took.

Oh, and don’t forget New Year’s Eve! Gin and tonic is a lovely drink and I really, really like to imbibe them. They are especially lovely when combined with a nice Valium on a flight to London, I’ve discovered. But, Gin and diet tonic? Well, it tastes so bad that I really didn’t need a second one. Or to finish the first, for that matter. I did discover that black-eyed peas, those most iconic of luck-bringing legumes, weren’t too bad for the weight-loss plan. However, the leftover ham and broth that I simmered them in shot that right in the foot. I got a tablespoon or so of them. Skipped the cheesecake and ate a handful of blackberries instead. Happy New Year!

And forget hours sitting on my big ol’ bum watching television. Except for the obsessive viewing of my Alma Mater’s basketball games (we’re in the Top 10!!), I haven’t seen much television since I embarked on this little endeavor. (Okay, I did take a time-out for the season three premiere of Sherlock, so sue me.) After dinner, I trek upstairs to the playroom/exercise room and either put an old scratched Britney Spears CD in, sneak Miley Cyrus’ Bangerz away from the teenager, or I drag in the computer and find an old movie to watch. I spend so much time on the exercise bike that the lady parts no longer get sore from the hard, unforgiving seat. In fact, I think I might be having some kind of illegal, immoral relationship with that bike at this point. At least it’s probably illegal in Kansas. That notwithstanding, I’ve discovered James Bond flicks starring Daniel Craig to be especially uplifting for my workouts. I don’t know if it’s his rugged good looks and ripped abs or the frenetic pace of the movies, to be honest. I have confessed before that I love movies where shit blows up, so, 007 does it for me. Star Trek films are the old standby – and I’m showing what a dinosaur I am by admitting that I still have most of them on VHS. So, it’s either First Contact or Into Darkness on DVD when I tire of Bond. Seriously, I must go buy Wrath of Khan on DVD soon.

As one of my friends recently said: “Khan > all other Star Trek movies.”

Yep. And I think Khan’s …um… fit physique would be inspirational. His pecs in that film are larger than my own breasts…

But I digress. Don’t let me talk about things like Star Trek and Doctor Who – you know better, dear friends! This post is about the journey I’m on. A new life I’m attempting to form. A new, healthier body and mind and soul.

Aw, fuck it. Truth is, I want to wear skinny jeans again. With stilettos. And a shirt that isn’t crafted to disguise a muffin top from the world. Or, maybe even a mini skirt for my next birthday. What can I say? I’m shallow. I know my blood pressure, cholesterol and all that other stuff will be better when I’m thinner. I damn well know that I’ll feel better when I have to climb more than a flight of stairs at a time, if I lose some weight. I’ll be able to keep up with the girls more. Maybe go two-steppin’ again with the Man of the House. Maybe even develop the stamina to learn yoga – a goal of mine for some time.

But it all pales in the shining light reflecting off those size four Hudson skinny jeans hanging on the closet door. They are beautiful. Oh, yes, I bought them. At 180 pounds, they seemed to taunt me and were very cruel. Going to bed was like being back in junior high, only it was a pair of jeans doing the bullying.

Today, after losing more than 30 pounds during the holiday season (yes, applaud all you like, thank you, thank you, despite all the chocolate and the cookies in my home, thank you, thank you!), they taunt a little less and seem to be saying “go ahead! Buy the shoes! You’re gonna make it!”

So, 30 pounds down, 20 to go.

As I said. I sure miss food. But I like what I see in the mirror even more than Lobster, steak, or a good Chicken Curry. So, I’ll carry on with the bird portions for now and continue my almost-intimate relationship with the exercise bike. Because for some reason, this time, it’s working. And working well. And crazily fast, too.

So, if you’ll excuse me. I need to do some online shopping. There’s a pair of jeans in my bedroom that must have some stilettos to go with them.

I wonder if Zappos has rush orders?

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