On this day in 1982, Diet Coke was introduced. The stuff kept me standing when I worked nights in Chicago for four years. I didn’t like coffee then (sadly I had not yet discovered the glorious truth of Juan Valdez and his dark roast) so my drink of choice was a cold, sweating can of Diet Coke every night. At least once.
The desire to lose weight has kept Diet Coke as popular as it is. Most all of us at some point hope to weigh less. I have five to ten pounds I keep losing then finding all over again. I wish those stupid pounds could be like my absolutest favorite silver earring I lost a few months ago that I have searched for high and low, ripping apart entire closets, drawers, couches—searching parking lots, car seats, sidewalks, trying to find. That earring is not coming back. But those stupid pounds come knocking on my door saying, “We’re baaaack,” like a freaky scary movie scene. Wish I could take them out with a Red Ryder before they even cross our threshold and never hear from them again.
Looking at my past blog posts, I found one from March of 2011, a day after Lent. Even back then, those stupid relentless pounds were hounding me. I should file a restraining order. I’m going to share that old post here today.
WEDNESDAY, MARCH 9, 2011
Yesterday was Fat Tuesday, for those who observe the holiday. I did my part to promote it: I had a Tuesday, and I ate like I wanted to be fat. Now today I'm paying for it, not only with physical woes but with psychological guilt. For wanting to lose ten pounds, I sure didn't behave like it yesterday. So today I'm drinking carrot juice. It's my penance, my punishment. It sure doesn't taste as good as the Chips Ahoy I nabbed on the way home last night. Why does it take six weeks and a Pope's discipline to lose the three pounds it took one trip to the grocery store to gain?
A few nights ago I dreamt I'd gained, oh, probably, hundreds of pounds over night. I was getting dressed in the morning and it was like trying to on put doll clothes. That was the same dream in which I found under many layers of pajamas that I was peeling off that I was still wearing a t-shirt I had put on in junior high. Can you imagine the shape the shirt would be in? Trippy. I shouldn't eat junk food. It makes me not only feel guilty but have stress dreams.
Since Lent starts today, I guess I should give the occasion an equal amount of effort as I did for Fat Tuesday. Though with it lasting forty-plus days, I can't promise I can keep up the same gusto the entire time that I demonstrated keeping Fat Tuesday. So I'll go with the carrot juice today, try to stay away from all things Keebler tomorrow, strive to sleep well, and be sure to change my t-shirt.
Want my stories delivered right to your inbox? I can do that! Click the button below to sign up and I'll make sure to send my post right to you each week.
Life with Quadruplets
As a mother of quadruplets, I've had plenty of crazy experiences raising "supertwins." I blog a lot of memories about my kids. Sometimes just my thoughts on things. I get those sometimes—when my brain works. Which is about one third of the time.