Is it a Diet if I Don’t Call it One?

If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, or have read my ‘about’ page, you know I’ve spent a lifetime failing at dieting. So a little over a year ago I swore off diets forever, and started writing. I guess for me writing has been liberating on so many levels, including allowing me to cook, taste, savor and enjoy wonderful food. It seemed risky at first—would I gain even more weight if I just stopped worrying about everything I put in my mouth? As it turns out the answer is yes, but not an alarming, out of control yes, more of a yeah, I think so kind of yes. And so I decided I really need to take some action, but I made a promise to myself and you that I would never diet again.

To me DIET=FAILURE, and I know it isn’t just me… Dieting is a way for us (fat or not) to set ourselves up for frustration, feeling deprived, increased obsession with food, and our whole lives (or mine anyway) we’ve been told that 95% of diets fail. That number may be very wrong, but if we start out believing we’re likely to fail at something chances are good that we will. It’s kind of a pass; like not making it through the entire Ninja Warrior course, ‘Jeez, hardly anyone makes it all the way through that!’ could also be the cry of the perpetual dieter.

So I decided to step away from that madness, and over the course of a year, my jeans got a little tight. Yep, I tried on summer shirts I’ve had for years, and there they were stretching unattractively across my belly (yippee!). OK, I needed to do something, but a diet was O-U-T. Perhaps if I made some changes, and didn’t really call it anything, my brain wouldn’t notice, and I could fly under my own radar.   And to compound the entire ruse, I decided I would not weight myself, not before, not after, I would just check in by getting dressed.

So if I gave up potatoes, pasta, bread etc. and all sugar for six days a week, and had one day of indulging would I a. fit back in my jeans, and b.feel like I was on a diet?

I am about three weeks in, and though it’s been a real challenge, I haven’t stepped on a scale. I have also added one more day a week to my swimming schedule (frankly I think that has done more for my resting heart rate and admirably Zen frame of mind than my waistline). For the most part I have not felt the panicky, and edgy feelings I associate with being on a diet, and freedom from the judgement of the scale has eliminated my performance anxiety. My jeans and summer shirts are fitting better, and even my splurge days aren’t all that Bacchanalian.

Three weeks is not really a good amount of time to gauge ongoing success, and I’m wondering what will happen when I leave town for two planned upcoming trips. I think I will just relax and enjoy them, not waste time (or calories) on crappy food, and resume my (new) regular non-diet, eating style when I return home. I have already started fantasizing about the delicious fried chicken, and barbecued ribs I will be eating at Woody’s Beach Barbecue on Chincoteague Island. See, this is where I get into trouble! So it’s a good thing I’m not on a diet, because if I was I would surely fail.