The Cycle of My Dieting Attempts

At home insemination

As a mother of a nearly 5-year-old, I still find myself carrying around the remnants of my pregnancy weight. At times, I embrace my body—curves, pooches, and all. But then there are moments, like when I go bathing suit shopping, that I yearn for the slim figure I had at 16, blissfully unaware of the nachos and Slurpees I consumed without consequence. Those days are long gone, and I’ve come to grips with the reality that I can’t indulge in late-night snacks in front of the TV without facing serious health repercussions. Once a month, I convince myself that this time will be different. This time, I will lose the weight. I wait for Monday and embark on yet another diet. Through my many attempts, I’ve recognized a clear pattern that unfolds every time I try to shed those extra pounds.

Here’s what typically happens when I take on a new diet:

1. I announce to everyone that I’m not on a diet but rather making a “lifestyle change,” because we all know diets are ineffective, right? Yet, deep down, I know it’s still a diet.
2. After my first meal of this new “lifestyle change,” I weigh myself—only after doing my business and with dry hair, of course. I even subtract a pound, just in case. If I managed to eat an egg white, I feel entitled to believe I’ve lost at least five pounds.
3. A couple of healthy meals in, I start preaching about my new diet to anyone who will listen. I become its biggest advocate, creating Pinterest boards and sharing updates on social media. In short, I become incredibly annoying.
4. I scour my pantry, tossing out everything that doesn’t fit my latest food fad—processed sugar, gluten, animal products, you name it. I label these items as “POISONS!” and “TOXINS!” with absolute conviction.
5. When I receive an invitation to a dinner party, I’m that person who shows up with my own meals in glass containers, claiming I have special dietary requirements.
6. After a few days of no weight loss, I resort to ridiculous methods like herbal cleanses or juice fasts, convinced these will yield faster results. But after a few hours of discomfort, I typically return to my usual eating habits.
7. I begin taking walks and weigh myself afterward, only to be disheartened when I discover that a one-mile walk burns a mere 40 calories. Suddenly, I feel like I’d need to walk to Key West and back every day just to eat what I want and still lose weight.
8. Alternative weight loss treatments begin to seem attractive, leading me to schedule appointments with holistic doctors or acupuncturists. They often focus heavily on bowel movements, advising me to eat more leafy greens. I leave feeling lighter in my wallet and carrying a baggie of powdered grasshopper shells.
9. I decide to try a new supplement recommended by a server at a local pizza place who swears it works. It’s $29 for a bottle of 14 tablets, but if it delivers results, it’s worth it, right?
10. When people assure me I’m not losing weight because I’m gaining muscle, I fight the urge to hurl them down an elevator shaft, fueled by my newfound strength.
11. On the third day of my “lifestyle change,” I find myself desperately trying to fit back into size 2 Z. Cavariccis from my high school days. I can only manage to pull them to my knees.
12. By day five, I convince myself I’ve been miraculously cured of all ailments, attributing this to my diet. I have zero cravings, or so I tell myself.
13. I learn the hard way not to follow bizarre weight loss tips from TV. Mixing chia seeds with water results in a concoction resembling snot with crunchy bits. It’s an appetite suppressant, alright—I’m too nauseated to eat anything else.
14. A week in, I ponder whether chocolate chips even count as calories. They’re tiny, after all. Therefore, I can consume several handfuls guilt-free.
15. I start asking, “When is cheat day?” only to discover there’s no such thing. This is unacceptable. Everyone deserves a cheat day—it’s part of the metabolism game. Time to indulge in macaroni and cheese and apple pie, right? I have my grasshopper shells and pricey supplements—clearly, I can eat whatever I want.
16. At the next dinner party, I indulge in everything except bread. Skipping the bread makes me feel virtuous, as I justify my choices with the thought of taking a walk to burn off just 1% of the dessert buffet calories.
17. I eventually realize the only diet I’ve successfully followed is the Low Crab Diet. I don’t enjoy shellfish, so I practically never eat crabs, although I wouldn’t refuse a crab cake if offered.
18. Okay, I fell off the wagon. Next Monday, I’m going paleo vegan. But wait—if I’m PMSing that week, does that count? I’ll start the week after.

Sadly, the truth about weight loss is that it often requires significant exercise, a balanced diet, or perhaps getting stranded on a deserted island. Since none of these options are feasible, I’ll aim to enjoy my pasta in cream sauce in moderation and practice self-acceptance—at least until I need a new swimsuit or hear about some celebrity’s secret to flat abs involving grass clippings and holistic locusts.

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In summary, the cycle of my dieting attempts is a mix of well-intentioned goals and humorous missteps. Each time, I find myself navigating the same challenges, ultimately accepting that balance and self-love may be the true keys to happiness.