The Never Ending Diet

           Lately, I’ve been spending a lot of time talking about a certain number: 60. Or, to be more precise, 60 minus 40 days. But there’s another number that has consumed even more of my energy and angst over the years, a number that you’ll never hear me say aloud. No, not my social security number. My weight.

I’ve been trying to lose 5 pounds for as long as I can remember.  Sometimes I lose them. Sometimes I find them. And then I have to lose my five pounds all over again.

I wasn’t born on a diet, though it does feel that way. My father was in the founding chapter of Weight Watchers. This was before points or e-tools or even artificial sweeteners, and WW was strictly for the overweight. (In fact my sister was sent home because she didn’t weigh enough to join!) From what I could tell, the basic premise was that food should be as bland and unappealing as possible. And believe me, ours was.

Which is one reason I was so excited about the huge box of diet “Ayds” my freshman roommate brought to college. If eaten right before a meal, these miracle Ayds were supposed to depress your appetite.  I’m not sure what the active ingredient was – or if there even was one -- but they tasted a lot like chocolate. And we both loved chocolate. So Judith and I would have one before a meal, a couple after, and a fistful whenever the urge hit. We didn’t lose a single ounce, but we quickly became friends. And countless diets later, we’re still great friends. By the way, it’s probably just a coincidence that Judith’s birthday is the day after mine. Which makes her, as you’ve figured out, 60 minus 41 days.

Over the years, I’ve talked dieting with friends and dieted together with friends. It’s kind of like shopping, but without the clothes. Together, we’ve sat through Weight Watcher meetings. We’ve shared diets and recipes and strategies, and we’ve confessed our lapses into ice cream and candy and pie.   

It’s been a lot of work to lose 5 pounds. Again and again and again. And yes, it does feel like time and effort misspent. I mean it’s not like I want my tombstone to read: She kept her weight within a healthy range all her life.

Really, isn’t it time I outgrew this obsession?

Recently, I talked with a friend’s 90-year-old mother.  She’s healthy and active and still very much engaged in life. She looked great to me, but she confided that she wants to lose five pounds. 

I know just where she can find them!