The Chunky Cha Cha

One step forward, Two steps back. Cha Cha Cha. Two steps forward, one step back. Cha Cha Cha. Not only is this the dance of weight loss, its how I get to the kitchen, particularly on the weekends, being urged and slowed by the competing angels on my shoulders. Just one more bite. No No don't! Cha Cha Cha.

I would love to say that this blog is all about happy endings, no hitches, and riding off, svelte forever, into the sunset. All of us who have or had weight issues know that's an unrealistic scenario and to think otherwise is a set up for self defeat.  I have to be realistic this time.  I have to give myself permission to have missteps but not let self flagellation over a misstep become an excuse for allowing it to become permanent.  This I know and no matter how much I'd like to saddle up and ride by every detour or dietary mishap along the path to fitness nirvana, I've done this often enough to know that getting derailed is part of the process. Such is life and such is my on going struggle trying to find a balance between the dark side of the force and my sincere desire to be healthy.

We've had 7 weekends in a row of guests, parties, being out of town, cruises, reunions, and general mayhem when it comes to observing the dictates of a healthy lifestyle. Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. I love playing. I love my friends. I love misbehaving, which is pretty much the problem.  I just wish I could remember when the chips and dip are tasting soooo good that the next day, I'm going to feel like a fat juicy garden slug onto which someone has poured an entire container of Morton's.

Food for me, especially party food, really is a case of when it rains it pours. Left to my own devices, most days, where I can control the food, what I make, and therefore what I eat, I really am reasonably disciplined. But invite me to a social gathering, run a big chafing dish of spinach queso or guacamole and chips in front of me, and all sense flies out the door. The stupid part is that I ALWAYS know I'm going to pay a hefty (no pun intended) price both digestively and weight wise when I set up shop in front of the snack table and yet, tortilla scooper in hand, I plow through every fatteningly delicious dish like pig at a trough.

It makes me crazy that I can't, or more aptly, choose not to use any sense when it comes to grazing at a party. Its all about limits and boundaries, and if you've been following the blog, I willingly confess this is an area that is not, shall we say, my strong suit. Its poison, I know. Delicious, tasty poison and the good Angel says, you know you don't even want it so don't even go look at it. The Satanic Cappy says, "Shoot, what's one little ole chip in the name of friendship?" But I never stop at one. NEVER. And then just like an alcohol hangover, after the party is over, I feel fat, sweaty and generally let down by myself. Getting on the scale on a Monday after a weekend's revelry becomes an act of contrition and I spend the entire next week, just recovering from the madness only to find myself weekend after weekend, over indulging. It makes it hard to get ahead. Hard to stay on track and its something I've really got to figure out how to do or every week will be a mini yo-yo of healthy eating followed by some serious sinning. This can't be good, not just from a weight perspective, but how must my internal organs feel about the schizophrenic "I'm healthy.  Yeah but I'm not", confusion of what goes in the pie hole and therefore must be processed through the system.

The Fourth of July weekend is coming up. We're going out of town to stay with some of our favorite people to play with so I'm sure there will be loads of good food and wine. They also live on a lake, so I know at some point, I'll have to come out of the burka and put on the bathing suit. Can we all sigh a collective ugh? My goal, through the 4th is simple. Behave. To stay away from the serious party food. To eat sensibly the rest of the time and to start learning that moderation can be fun. No, really, I'm sure it can be and more importantly, if I'm going to really change my approach to food, it has to be. So if you see me wandering around, plate of chips, dip and salsa  in hand, remind me that I never liked to Cha Cha anyway.