The good news: I’ve kept off 30 or so pounds for over three years.
The bad news: The siren song of sweet and salty snacks keeps ringing in my ears. I consider the fact that carbs are bad for me to be proof positive – as if I needed any – that there is no god.
When I was in college and weighed so little that they turned me away at the blood donation drive, I could regularly devour an entire large bag of Lay’s Classics, no problem, no weight gain, no nothing. Those were, indeed, The Days.
Not to mention my late-in-life munchies issue as I continue my intergalactic journeys courtesy of medical marijuana baked goodies.
I’m truly at a crossroads. I don’t want to be a roly poly. I certainly don’t want to be pre-diabetic, let alone full blown diabetic. I could do without open heart surgery. You know, those pesky medical issues fueled by obesity.
But, gosh, as I begin the long slide down toward the Big D, shouldn’t I be having some fun? And shouldn’t some of that fun come from the delectable chewing of bread, pasta, potatoes and such? Cause, really, isn’t food one of life’s grandest pleasures?
Or should I keep my big mouth shut and maintain a body like this? The eternally unsmiling Victoria Beckham, mother of four, best know for her high fashion line and not having eaten in decades. What’s it all about, V.B.? Is it just for the proteins we live?