Whoa, it Plagues Me

A Mendacious Little Tale:

The man in the mirror tells me each day that he is me. I, in turn, let him know he is absurd. That man is fat, nearly bald, just a few wrinkles and times his arrival as I walk up to the sink counter. What a devil he is to jeer and nag at me first thing in the morning. His hair pathetically stands straight up which could easily be solved with a comb. He tells me I need to shave and that doing so will allow me to look better. Once again I tell this scruffy man it is he, not me, that needs to shave and most likely needs to brush his teeth!  He is relentless in his insults which he calls truthful little quips. It is very disturbing when he watches me getting in and out of the shower. I don’t think he can see me on the toilet.  If he can that mirror will come down and crash into bits and pieces on the floor.

What a fib, a bit of fiction and even a cup of wishful thinking that I am not the one I see in the mirror! I am nearly the size of a walrus or something akin to the shape of a walrus’ mass. It is at a point that doctors sneak in bold statements, one that takes a moment for it to sink in before I recognize that it is about my weight. At home there are quips, but they are somewhat controlled!

And–so–I spend many minutes each day looking for a diet program to follow. Recently I ordered a one-week program’s food from BistroMD. I thought I ordered for a month. It was only for a week. I paid more for the week than I previously paid at Jenny Craig for the same amount of time. Every dish was fairly spicy. I thought that whoever made up the combinations of items for each meal needed to read food magazines and learn the art of food combinations.

The other night I searched again and kept thinking about why I was looking at meals and programs. Each of the program menus is much the same. One program will allow you to order two meals a day while the next wouldn’t. I became so depressed about all of this I decided to buy two dinners (usually Smart Ones’) for each diet day at the supermarket.  To augment the frozen dinners I will purchase salad kits to last me until I shop again.  Mnnnnnnn,  not successful so far.  I need a bit more determination and a heavy dose of control.

Up until I was fifty years old dieting was a snap. In my twenties, I just stopped eating all day long and at home, I only ate leaves of lettuce.  In my late thirties and early forties, I was able to control when and what I ate.  If my resolve lessened  I joined  Nutrisystem more than once or cut out any food that was caloric.    As I reached my fiftieth year the bomb hit. I needed to buy a larger size suit. I stopped wearing the stylish Armani suits and began wearing the best suit Marshall’s had on their tack the day I shopped.

In 1994 I lived in Arizona and started college. It was a wonderful time, except for the fact that I started eating candy bars instead of food.

I was a perfect yoyo dieter!  After my mother died in 2008 we moved to Florida where I have gone from 160 on up to (well you really don’t want to know). There were some isolated months I  lost weight and looked decent. 

Each night I go to bed and am plagued by what to do and think that divine intervention would be great, yet reality says tells me I will be left to my own rusty devices to work through this wretched ordeal. I have this feeling of failure lurking at all corners and the constant thought of mine occurs,  “Good God, HOW?”

The man in the mirror knows how sad this whole attempt is to lose weight.  I try to eat what I should and it goes fine for a short period and then I fail.  Trying just isn’t good enough, but then what bit of magic could work on me. It certainly isn’t control, I have none. Nor is determination part of me now.  The inner place where my strength has always been now feels empty.

My plague of thoughts makes me fear that knowing the answer to this dilemma is nowhere near me.

 

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