My legs and arms were slightly bigger than toothpicks. You don't? Me neither. Lately I've been trying to figure out what my diet deal is. Why I am having a hard time (other than laziness) losing weight. I work out four to five times a week, yet I'm still gaining instead of losing.
When it comes right down to it I know the source of my whole problem. I just don't want to admit it.
I'm admitting it now.
My worst and beloved favorite frenemy. My go-to for comfort, wake-up, and delicious beverage. Yes, THE Diet Coke ("DC").
When I'm off DC I never want the added snacks or fast food that go with it. I eat my food at home. I eat healthy-er-ish. Here's a little diagram I made of how I'm tricked by this liquid sweetness:
Looking at the diagram you would think it would be easy to quit. So why is it so hard?
Truth is, it's not. Three days is all I need to get my diet to stick. Three days, and I wave my hanky to my fountain drink as it leaves on the train to diabetesville. It's worked before multiple times. I can do it again. The problem is the round trip ticket back that meets me at the movie theater next to that bucket of butter with occasional popped popcorn.
This May my sister is getting married. I've got three months to either wave goodbye forever to DC, and walk into that wedding looking like a skinny supermodel's older sister-mom lady, OR decide that I want a life filled with buckets of chicken, whole pizzas, and 100 oz. DC's for dinner. Both have a degree of happiness (one less because I kick the chicken bucket sooner). It's just a matter of which I want more.
Is this a dilemma? It's not.
No more GIGANTIC "last supper" dinners before the diet. No more DC.
Save me Tom Cruise!