The Third Option Being Cake AND Death

I have decided I need to lose 14 or possibly 21 pounds, so the other day when I was grocery shopping, I bought whole wheat tortillas instead of white flour tortillas. Do I have to do something other than that, or is that sufficient?

Talking about weight is a tricky matter because pretty much everyone on the other end of the conversation will find a way to take it personally. Suppose I were to say, for example, “I, flurrious, am 5′4″ tall. I am currently 156 pounds. My wrist measures almost 7″ around, meaning I have a large frame. Given my age, height, and frame size, and taking into consideration previous weights at which I have felt healthy, I have come to the conclusion that I, flurrious — the person whose DNA profile I am now providing along with a thumbprint and retinal scan — should lose 14 or possibly 21 pounds.”

In response, the person I’m talking to may think and possibly even say, “oh, so you’re saying I’m fat, then? You think I need to lose weight? Who the hell asked you? Bitch.” Thus, I would just like to reiterate that what I am about to say applies only to me because even if it could apply to you, I would never be presumptuous enough to tell someone else what he or she should weigh (unless that person is famous because obviously famous people have no feelings) and also because I don’t actually care about your weight in the slightest (unless you are famous because obviously everything about famous people is inherently interesting).

At the same time, a different person will think, “156 pounds? OMG you are such a whale,” but say, “I feel like I should lose some weight too. I used to wear a size 2, but lately I’ve had to buy some size 4s. I think it’s because my breasts are getting bigger. Also, my legs seem longer than they used to be.” If you say anything in response to this other than, “shut up, hot girl!” followed by a playful shove and a laugh, she will forever remember it as the time you accused her of being morbidly obese, even though you are OMG such a whale. So at the risk of being redundant, repetitive, and repeating myself, I must stress yet again: not talking about you.

Now you are saying to yourselves, “why is she talking about her weight? I don’t care about her weight. It’s not like she’s famous or anything,” but I am going to pretend you are saying, “why 14 to 21 pounds? Tell me. This is so interesting.” Well, I’m so glad you asked! First, I will say that since age 12, I have fluctuated between what I would consider a good weight for me and 10 to 15 pounds over that, but I have never officially been on a diet. (I did briefly in junior high attempt to drop some weight via the use of the unfortunately named Ayds diet plan, which involved eating two Ayds candies before each meal, but, as I recall, I instead just ate large quantities of the Ayds candy while watching Laverne and Shirley. There also may have been pizza rolls involved.) I decide what a “good” weight is based on whether or not I feel okay and can find cute clothes in my size, and the last time I was at a good weight was about six or seven years ago when I weighed 135. That’s where I get the 21 pound figure. But because since that time, I have both passed age 40 and my metabolism has departed for whereabouts unknown, I’m giving myself 7 pounds of leeway. As you can see, it’s all very scientific.

Since January, I have lost nine pounds. This doesn’t mean that I weigh 147 now; it means that in January I weighed 165. Gaining 30 pounds over the last six or seven years is how I know that my metabolism has gone to hell because I don’t really eat any differently than I ever ate. And I’m not going to say that I don’t eat that much because … uh, I do. When it comes to food, I am a fan. Nonetheless, 165 was a bit of a shock because I don’t weigh myself regularly. I knew I had gained weight because jeans that had fit fine six months earlier now seemed to be actively attempting to kill me, but the actual number still surprised me. So at that point, I got extremely serious about losing weight and did absolutely nothing about it. Not at the conscious level anyway. But I must have subconsciously cut back a bit (though not so much that I didn’t have the occasional license-plate sized chocolate bar or lunch consisting entirely of apple pie) because I lost nine pounds. Despite the fact that I did nothing to make that happen, I will still talk about it as though it is worthy of congratulations.

Now, however, I need to get slightly more serious about losing weight because I recently found out that my blood sugar has become a little elevated. It should be under 100 after an 8-hour fast, and it’s been 102 and 104 in two different tests. It doesn’t sound like much, but the danger of doing nothing is that I have about a 35% chance of developing diabetes within the next three years, which I wouldn’t enjoy, I don’t think. I do know a woman who managed to convince the Department of Licensing that her diabetes qualifies her for a handicapped parking sticker, but other than that, there’s no upside. Besides which, once you go blind, lose a foot, and slip into a diabetic coma, you do less driving anyway.

One of the reasons I have never dieted is because most diets require so much planning and measuring and calculating that the entire enterprise makes me want to order a large sausage and mushroom pizza and eat it while watching Dancing with the Stars. There are diets that do all of the calculation for you, but when they detail, for example, a six-week menu plan, they never take into account the way normal humans buy groceries. Breakfast on Day One requires that you eat one egg, but then an egg doesn’t appear in the menu plan again until Day 37. So are you supposed to use a 37-day old egg that you bought back on Day One? Or should you instead buy a dozen eggs, eat one, throw the other 11 eggs away, buy another dozen on Day 37, eat one, and throw another 11 away again? And what if you want to eat out during this time? Do you go along to the restaurant with your friends but ask the waiter to bring you a plate so you can enjoy [sic] your homemade Mock Crabmeat over Broccoli with Brown Rice that you brought with you in a sad little brown sack? If you do that, you may eventually be thin, but your friends will forevermore let all your calls go to voicemail. Alone at home with a plate of mock crabmeat is no way to live.

Thus, when it comes to dieting, I am not exactly sure what I’m supposed to do. I already eat in a reasonably healthy way, except that I eat way too much sugar and I feel that if you eat less than a double serving of pasta, you are kidding yourself. Seriously, have you seen what a “serving size” of spaghetti looks like? It’s, like, 12 noodles. Aside from that, I think Registered Dieticians would be okay with what I eat, since five days out of seven it’s a lot of lean protein and whole grain nonsense, but they might laugh and talk amongst themselves over things like, “three tacos, one sitting.”

Despite my lack of dieting expertise, I have come up with the following plan: eat less food.

And although I already work out, I think I’m going to add in some weight training since building up muscle is good for fat-burning and, also, increasing my upper body strength might come in handy if I want to punch someone, which I think I probably will since I will no longer be able to rely on milk chocolate peanut M&Ms to alleviate the indignation of daily living.

So, 14 to 21 pounds is ballpark, but the only goal number I really have is to get my fasting blood sugar under 100. I’m sure I would be worried about my cholesterol as well if I knew what it was, but I’m not going to find out because I’ve got enough problems right now. Secondarily, I would like to have a less squashy stomach and the ability to do a push-up without my arms giving out and having to use my face to break my fall. Flooring may be delicious, but it’s highly caloric.