As a result I have become -- shall we say -- "rounder" than I used to be. Where once there were edges, I now have padding. And a
reciprocal change in attitude.Yes, I have become one of "those" women. The kind who go to an all-you-can-eat pizza buffet and order unsweetened tea to keep alive the pretense of dieting. A woman about whom
skinny younger women like to talk. You know what I mean: I carry my plate up to the buffet line and some scrawny female takes a look and whispers to her friend, who is also padding deficient, "If I looked like that
I wouldn't go anywhere near a pizza buffet."
I know they say that because I that's what I used to do. It's true: what goes around really does come around. And, although I've been on a diet for months and have
actually lost some weight, it appears that controlling my midriff bulge is going to be a lifelong commitment. All that pepperoni adds up.
Yes, willpower is definitely in short supply around our house. Except, that is,
for our male child. At six, he did what many little kids do and put on some "baby fat". His pediatrician wasn't worried and neither were we because he eats properly and gets lots of exercise. But he didn't
like it. Kids called him "fat" and hurt his feelings. But instead of reaching for a gallon of ice cream, he put himself on a diet and lost weight. In fact, his last check-up found him weighing five pounds less
than he did a year ago. And he did it the right way, asking for healthy snacks and cutting back on his meals.
It all paid off and the kid's looking a lot lighter these days, although he's tall and big-boned by nature.
He'll always be on the large side, no matter how many candy bars he cuts out. But he discovered being thin also has its drawbacks when we took him downtown to a street festival and he wanted to go up in the fire
department's ladder truck. He was so excited at the prospect, it was all he talked about. At least, until he found out he was too thin to go up on the platform. To ride in it, he had to be able to fit in a harness and
the smallest one was 34 inches. My son fell about four inches below the minimum. He was terribly disappointed but we told him to keep his chin up. It wouldn't be long before he'd be big enough to go up. But he doesn't
like to leave things to chance.
I was doing some paperwork at the kitchen table the other night, paying no attention to him, when he asked me a question.
"How many cookies do you think I'll have to eat to gain four, Mom?"
"Four what, son?"
"Four of whatever it was I needed to go up in that fire truck."
I looked up to find him sitting
in front me with the open cookie jar, carefully stuffing one chocolate chip after another into his mouth. He must have eaten at least 10 of them by that time. I assured him he didn't need to cram -- he'd grow with time.
So I guess willpower can swing both ways. And from now on, instead of fooling no one into believing I'm dieting by ordering unsweetened tea with my buffet, I'm going all the way. Give me the sweet tea -- and the
sweeter the better.
Heck, I can always say I'm in training to go up in the fire truck.
