Dieting has never been one of my success stories. My will power is nil, my appetite is healthy, and most of my hobbies–reading, knitting, writing, sewing–are done in vegetative position. I sit a lot; the tail tells the tale. (ouch!)
Last week I went out to lunch with a couple of friends. One ordered a salad, the other one a vegetable wrap. I ordered a cheeseburger and fries. My logic was that I love cheeseburgers and fries and it was a special occasion. WHY was it a special occasion? Because we were eating out.
See the problem?
I’ve found that Aversion Therapy works to some degree. For instance, one whiff of hog farm stench keeps me off pork for months at the time. Find a hair in a particular dish and any time it’s served again, my brain flashes on that hair. The pecan shell that broke my tooth in a cone of Chunky Monkey ice cream years ago caused me to cross that flavor off my list…but then, it’s a pretty long list.
Too bad that potato farms don’t smell bad. And bread… does it have to smell so heavenly?
Food? No thank you.
DB and I went to a diner for lunch and the usual urges kicked in. Hot damn! Eating out! I ordered a hot dog. Now is there anything good in a hot dog besides the taste? Didn’t matter: Eating out = special occasion. Give me something in a bun!
One bite into my hot dog, I looked past Dearly Beloved’s right shoulder at the group sitting on counter stools.
This is what I saw:
The Aversion Therapy of my nightmares. . . . I could be a Size 2 by Christmas.