Diet, Die-t:

This is a real life text string between me (me) another person (op) and another other person (oop)

me: Easy way to fail at diet hour 1. (buy these delicious tempting morsels here)

Sweet sweet cereal

Sweet sweet cereal

OP: That’s the benefit of never having food in the house. No temptation.

Me: And this:

Note knife in box as if a full donut was ever too much for anyone to handle.

Note knife in box as if a full donut was ever too much for anyone to handle.

OP: I fucking love donuts.

Me: And this:

Don't know what those pretzels are doing in there. Waste of space really.

Don’t know what those pretzels are doing in there. Waste of space really.

Me: All within two feet of each other.

OP: And candy? Shit!

Me: Steve told me he would purge the house (which is totally not his responsibility) but this is sort of a fail. He doesn’t help when he cooks steak, and fried potatoes, and roasted chicken with crispy skin, and homemade bread with butter.

OP: Its too delicious

Me: And I am actually beginning to cry as I text this.

Its as if my beloved has died.

Its as if my beloved has died.

Op: Oh honey, shit times. That’s the saddest face I have ever seen.

Me: Its my no butter face,

OP: I hate that:

Me: The accountant just emailed me, that face is worse than the no butter face.

Tools of the trade:

OP: We got a vitamix. My first smoothie was a fail. Way too many beets.

Other other person: Beets make a lot of trouble in a smoothie world.

OP: Seriously

OOP: I stick to greens and yogurt. Though not together.

Me: I bought the electromagnetic ab exerciser. How can’t that lose? It’s better than a diet.

Me: Here is just ONE way it can lose. By not fitting around my waist.

Born at the wrong time:

Me: Being married to abstemious fit people sucks.

OP: Yes, such incredible self control.

Me: Its not though. It ISNT THE SAME It would be like complimenting my mother on not getting a new car. Their pleasure comes from the discipline and the denial.

OP: No.  We have many discussions about how I say he doesn’t understand what feeling out of control around food feels like.  He really doesn.t.

Me: If somehow the world were reversed and being plump and enjoying throw pillows were the “virtues” then they would fail. Its the time we live in.

OP: Our better parallel universe.

Me: We would have been kick ass in the 1700s. Round and happy, eating grapes on pillows.

OP: The hottest babes around.
Me: They would have been scrawny bitter people
Unable to feather their nests
OP: Made to eat gruel in the courtyard while we feasted on mutton and ale.
Me: Exactly, but the gruel would be all they wanted.
OP: Lets start a commune and not let skinny people in.
Me: Except to schlep us our wares.
OP: And tie our shoes for us because we can’t do it ourselves.
Me: Who needs shoes? We aren’t walking anywhere.
OP: Screw walking, running and spinning.
What are you texting? Perhaps things other than diet tips? Give me a chain.

 

 

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Anna Rosenblum Palmer is a freelance writer based in Denver, CO. She writes about sex, parenting, cat pee, bi-polar disorder and the NFL; all things inextricably intertwined with her mental health. In her free time she teaches her boys creative swear words, seeks the last missing puzzle piece and thinks deeply about how she is not exercising. Her writing can be found on Babble, Parent.co, Great Moments in Parenting, Ravishly, Good Men Project, Sammiches and Psych Meds, Playpen, Crazy Good Parent, and YourTango. She also does a fair amount of navel gazing on her own blog at annarosenblumpalmer.com.