In getting back to blogging after a longer than expected break, I decided that the “Fat Little Me” section is the perfect spot for the airing of all my dieting grievances. More on that at another time.
Once again, I find myself in the midst of the “need to lose 30 lbs” conundrum. And by midst, I mean the literal 15 lb mark.
This does require celebration, mostly in that I decided to start WAY earlier than swimsuit season this year, in hopes I have a fighting chance at shaking off that last 15. And if you’re anything like me, shaking is pretty much what it comes down to (if running, swimming, dancing, and tying weights to your ankles haven’t helped yet.)
This time around, I managed to discover “kefir”, something I’d never tried before and adds a nice dairy and probiotic kick to my smoothies. Speaking of kick, once again I tried going off dairy entirely, and that never works for me for long. This midwestern girl would need to be under a professional care team to dare try that again. I managed to go about six weeks this time, then found myself helplessly at the Honey and Mackie’s counter ordering a double scoop of Cookie Dough in a waffle cone. My mineral levels seemed to be in a happy balance all at once. And that’s my report on kefir.
What is up with the bone broth craze? I miss the days of dieting where Snackwells were expensive, and you could find a good T-bone WITH the bone. When I do online grocery orders and type in “soup bones”, I get taken to a dog food page. Gelatine is now $9 a box. What? Hide your marshmallows. I’m gonna start bringing a Ziplock to Happy Hour and collecting the bones from chicken wings. Ridiculous.
And where do these fad diets come from, anyway? I’ve lived long enough to see the protein diet go out of style and come back in again. Sugar needs to make a comeback. My thanks to all the companies proudly listing “cane sugar” on their labels when they decry corn syrup. I think I’m half joking.
I set up a little reward system for myself for when I reach milestones in my weight loss efforts. For hitting the midway point, I really wanted to buy a pair of non-stretch denim jeans. If you’re anywhere near my age, you understand what non-stretch denim is. It’s denim. In theory, it really shouldn’t even have “non-stretch” in front of it. Non-stretch denim is what denim used to be before the word “jegging” mixed everything up in there somehow.
By the time I get done explaining it to the salesperson, I will have lost all 30 lbs. Gonna go get some ice-cream instead.