I love food.

I love McDonald’s french fries, covered in salt and greasy, hot out of the bag before you can even get home. I love mussels from Carrabba’s swimming in sauce that drips down your chin, sopped up by warm, crusty bread. Chilled Chardonnay on the side, of course. And I never met a dessert I didn’t like. I prefer the ones with morbid names like Death by Chocolate or Raspberry Suicide. So, can you tell I’m on a diet?

Yup, the same one I was on after the holidays when I wrote my “Winter Weight” post. So, you see, it’s been going well. Six months later and I’ve decided to get serious.  Well, as serious as I get about diets which is not very. In fact, I don’t like to use the term “diet.” I prefer instead to say I’m “being good.” Then, I haven’t failed. I’m just “being bad” temporarily.

And no, I’m not doing it because bathing suit season is upon us. I couldn’t care less about bathing suit season. I can’t even swim. I long ago traded in my bikini for a tankini and I’m considering trading in my tankini for some men’s board shorts and an old t-shirt. No, I’m doing it because I can’t zip up my pants and I don’t want to spend money on new ones.

I have two friends (I’ll call them Mr. and Mrs. Hard Body) that are always “being good.” For them, it’s not a diet, it’s a way of life. And it shows. They look like Ken and Barbie, if Ken and Barbie lived in the gym instead of a dream house. Now, I love my friends, but they’re no fun. A day at the beach entails not the potato chips and cold beer that I crave, but a baggie full of chickpeas and some coconut water. You know, the kind of people that spend fifteen minutes questioning the waiter before ordering the special served dry and a salad with the dressing on the side, hold the croutons. My friends recently met up with another couple who (gasp!) chose a French restaurant for the foursome to eat at. A real problem for my friends. A dream come true for me.

In fact, going out to eat is probably my favorite thing to do. Sure, it’d be nice to wear a two-piece again. Or even a sleeveless top. To have toned arms and a flat stomach. But, I’ve decided it’s just not worth it. So, I’m embracing my rolls. And the garlic ones.

Another friend and I discovered a great Greek restaurant the other night. I had Shrimp Mykonos and she had the lamb (tender — like butter!) We saved room for dessert — cappuccinos, tiramisu and Baklava cheesecake. It’s nice spending time with someone who appreciates food as much as me. We’re both in wheelchairs, maybe that’s it. Life experience has taught us only too well — life’s too short to skip dessert.

I’m sorry, I realize this post isn’t going to inspire anyone to stick to their own healthy eating plan. I, myself, am not breaking any records for weight loss. I think I’m losing at the lightning speed of a pound a week. Maybe less. So if you need motivation, I’ll be happy to get you in touch with The Hard Body’s. But I’ll have to leave a message. I hear they’re out training for a marathon.

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