Woke up this morning and stepped onto the damned bathroom scale.
201.
Fuck.
I ate like a pig this weekend. Nothing new—I always eat like a pig. But, combined with the foot injury from hell, eating like a pig isn’t working. At my best, and happiest I’m 190. So 201? No good. Need to change my eating habits in a major way. Am here looking for help.
My three weaknesses:
1. Shitty dessert-esque foods (cookies, pretzels, ice cream, etc)
2. Cheese.
2. Noshing. Especially late at night, when I’m trying to write.
This morning I griped to my wife, who is a tad exasperated by my moaning—and inability to do anything—about this subject. “Give up all dessert,” she moaned, “and you’ll see.”
OK. I think the foot might be on the mend, which I really need (if I take one more spin class, I’ll start vomiting bike pedals). So, a return to running (knock, knock) plus no more sweets might do the trick. So here’s my jeffpearlman.com procolomation:
For the next month, I will have:
• None of those fatty-ass Starbucks coffee drinks that house a gazillion callories and even more fat.
• Two sweet tastes per week. Maybe, like, one cookie on one day, and an ice cream another. But nothing more. I’m actually going to follow the wife’s advice and keep a pad with me, to chronicle all I eat.
• Nothing but vegetables after 10 pm. (This will be really hard).
I’ll gladly take any advice here. Please. I have weak moments; look in the mirror and say, “You don’t look overweight,” etc … etc. But I hate that number … hate knowing how easily I could go from 201 to 210 to 220 to Goodyear.
I’m starting now.
In the Atlanta Coffee Shop.
Where the sweets are glazed.
And free samples run wild.
Gulp.
