I know most of you picture me as a ravishing beauty.  You think I look like Amy Adams as Giselle in Enchanted.  Long, wavy red hair.  Perfect, creamy skin.  Blue eyes.

Yeah.  If you’ve never read the blog, actually, you might think so, but in reality, well.  I’m a cute, silly, freckled girl who is  so tall that you can’t really tell she’s about thirty pounds overweight.  It’s not just that the New Year is coming that I’m thinking about it.  I think about it when Mr. M tries to get me to put on a forty pound weight vest.  No thanks, I already carry that much extra weight.  But the vest helps but things in to perspective.  That is how much weight I’m putting on my feet, one of which has a large tumor in the arch.  The drugs I take do weird things with weight. Some make me gain, others are supposed to make me lose.  The ones that mother gives you, don’t do anything at all.

I actually know quite a lot about diets.  I was on the Zone when I met my husband.  I refused to diet before my wedding, so I didn’t.  (And I look cute and chubby in the pictures.  I like the look.)  I had surgery on the foot tumor not long after the wedding so I couldn’t walk for a couple weeks and couldn’t go for walks for months.  I went on South Beach and did well.  I got pregnant, lost the baby, and ate a whole heck of a lot of everything.  My mom tried to get me to do Weight Watchers.  (Like it’s every worked for her; she’s huge.)  My husband tried to get me to eat Paleo.  I tried to supplement my group therapy classes with trips to the ice cream store after each session.

A few days ago I decided to do things my way.  I have sense, I decided to exercise it.  I know that I should eat a real breakfast.  And two eggs is not breakfast.  A piece of fruit:  not breakfast.   Two eggs with toast and coffee and fruit is breakfast.  Oatmeal with apricots and raisins and butter and tea is breakfast.  It takes a while, but it’s taking care of myself.

Today we ate at a kid’s restaurant.  Small got chicken strips, no fries and apple juice.  I don’t think that apple juice is the most healthy of choices but it’s better than soda.  I got one 1/3 pound hamburger, unsweetened iced tea and some apple.  After I ate it, I wanted more.  I didn’t get it.  Most people don’t go back for seconds at a fast food restaurant, and I wasn’t going to be the one to break the mold.  Although two weeks ago I would have.

I’m trying to be reasonable when it comes to food, something I probably never has been able to do.  There is carmel corn in the pantry.  I haven’t touched it.  There is this wonderful ice cream that uses coconut milk as the base.  I had a bit for lunch’s desert.  Not too much.  It was okay.  I promised myself I would never eat it alone in the house because I would eat the whole $6 a pint carton.  Ooh, but it’s so delicious.

Back to what I’m going to do next.  I don’t know.  I’m going to make every attempt to be mindful of food.  I normally take my stomach’s cues and then blaze a path of destruction.  For example, I want a pop chip (so would you if you knew them).  I go in and eat four.  Then I get out a big bowl and fill it with chips.  I eat those.  Then I go for the bag.  If I were paying attention,  I would have stopped at the four.  I didn’t want them anymore after that, I just felt compelled to eat them all.  (Dangerous when Mr M brings home the Costco sized bag.)

There is a fine line between gluttony and a little snack, though, right?  Can it be possible for a person not to be a glutton?  Can I do it?  Remember 1 Corinthians 10:13? ” No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it.”  I don’t have to eat the whole darn bag.  There is a way out from gluttony.

I’m going to find out what it is, and tell you.


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