Here I sit, having face-time with the perennial decision of any dieter, “Do I or don’t I?”

Somebody said that foods made with salt, sugar, and fat are the most irresistible. Why not just call them what they are, “baked goods?” I am practically captive to their doughy gooey pull; Homer strapped to the mast, whilst the sweet scent of glaze sings upon the wind unto me. If not for the pull of the ropes of self-restraint, I would fall victim to their fetching, alluring, siren-quality magnetism, throwing myself full-force into a mound of éclairs, finding light only after munching and devouring my way to the top.

Yet, when rational thought surfaces, I am aware that the self-control now under assault is the ground floor of everything I have accomplished. My head is held higher, my stomach is flatter, my blood pressure is lower, my muscles are tighter. By no coincidence, these all exist in the same period when my self-esteem is Everest high.

I am no Johnny-come-lately to healthful eating, recognizing that a weight gain is neither the result of ONE bear claw nor a SOLITARY cake donut with extra sprinkles. Conversely, I am also weary; as the precipitous journey begins with a single, minor step. The rapid slide from grace is birthed by a thoughtless, momentary, loss of control. It is not food itself that causes obesity; rather one’s midsection expands due to an infection of the thoughts: “There’s always tomorrow,” or, “Just this once,” or  “What’s the use?” Continue reading On the (Butter)horns of a dilemma