Once upon a time, wasn’t really that long ago, there lived a woman who possessed a healthy, if not robust appetite. This robust appetite possessing woman could match pizza slices bite for bite with high school dates, defied the fatal fifteen during college days, and prevailed flabby Mum Tum after baby days; however, once our heroine entered the dratted, scurrilous midlife sector, weight gain became a nuisance.
For instance, our once quick metabolism inclined heroine found out the following:
1. Thinking about cheesecake earned .5 lb on the scaleometer.
2. Eating two bites of actual cheesecake added a full 1.5 lbs–sans any topping.
3. The expression, “if I ate that slice of cake I might as well apply it to my hips” suddenly had real meaning, and actuality
4. The rule of consuming calories in relationship to burning them became a science rather than a magazine article to simply pass over for something more interesting
5. bikinis are not meant to be worn outside the confines of the backyard
Our heroine also found an increased interest in “success” stories that graced pages of national magazines and bestsellers. An almost morbid fascination and momentary inspiration to also obtain “results not usual” would overcome her desires for Haagen-Daz, Dove Bars, and cinnamon rolls with cream cheese icing. That is, they would be tackled momentarily.
The truth, our heroine discovered, is that once born with the propensity to eat quantity, albeit not always quality, and not suffer for it, is a beastly habit to break. Skinny jeans and crop tops were not initially the chief incentive. It was the pursuit of gravity defiance that finally convinced said heroine to act responsibility towards food intake, because she noticed over the years body mass had begun sliding at an appalling rate. Our heroine calculated at the rate of weight slide she would be the owner of hefty ankles by the time she reached retirement if the midsection weight slide were any indication of the future.
Hence, the DIET BOOK phase entered her life. She would indeed enact the age-old saying, “Die(t) trying to lose weight.”
Books and magazine article began to lay about the house; yet, as these pound-shedding puntives increased in propensity in the library bag, the desired effects of weight dropping did not transpire on the bathroom scale. This produced “major bummer syndrome” resulting in “what the flip?” rhetorical countersuit and freelance calorie consumption. Midlife is not for sissies.
There is no totally happy ending for our heroine. She has not dropped the desired twenty pounds (a compromise weight); however, she is much more wise in terms of menu and choice. After all, it is a well-known fact that Marilyn Monroe and Elizabeth Taylor were curvaceous and not svelte with power abs. There is something to be said for padding. The heroine learned to say sagaciously, “Why yes, I’ll have the sorbet, and could I have a box, please.”
Our heroine recommends the following diet books–not so much for the results attained, rather because the before and after photos of those who have actually adhered to the content’s regimes are impressive, and have proved useful in terms of thinking about exercise and caloric abstinence with more serious thought: