So The Boyfriend and I have been to see a dietician. You know, just to get back on track in terms of healthy eating, shed a few kilos that just happened to pile on during the festive season and seemed never to have left. I blame all that tequila and my awesome drunken cooking.
Our dietician is lovely. A skinny little chick who is basically the poster girl for dieting. Thin little arms, barely any boobs. She’s given us an eating plan. She spent an hour or so going through it with us, and discussing menu options and good foods and bad foods. Basically telling us nothing we didn’t already know. But, the monthly check ups and weigh-ins should be incentive enough to try do some healthy eating.
After our appointment with her, The Boyfriend and I are walking to the car and he says: “Jesus, I hope that being on a diet won’t make my breath smell as bad as that chick.”
I snort with laughter, we get in the car and he’s still carrying on about our dietician’s halitosis.
“It’s like her stomach has tasted the diet food she’s put in it and said ‘fuck you’ and died and is now trying to claw it’s way out of her body through her mouth. Fuck man, it smells like she’s rotting from the inside out. This diet thing is going to be terrible, isn’t it?”
I snigger and silently agree with him.
We go home. I make us a lovely nutritious dinner of steamed sweet potato, baby marrow and grilled chicken with a bean sprout salad. It doesn’t taste too bad. I prepare our breakfast and lunch for the next day (fruit salad and chicken & rice salad).
I keep telling myself this is not going to be bad. The food I’ve made so far on the diet hasn’t been a drastic change from what we normally eat. It just doesn’t have as much cheese and as much pasta as I would like. I persuade myself that this is a good thing.
We marvel at how much healthier we’re going to be and how much money we’re going to save because we wont be going out for dinner/having takeaways/buying ice-creams/buying sweeties as much.
We keep convincing ourselves that we can be strong and do this.
Day two (proper) into the diet, I’m sitting at work, eating my rice and chicken salad (with sweet potato, danish feta, carrots and bean sprouts) and I put down my fork, pick up my car keys.
I head to McDonalds and buy myself a chicken burger and wolf it down in about 2.5 seconds. I don’t even like McDonalds. I dont even like chicken burgers.
So why did I do it? Mostly because I knew I shouldn’t. Tell me I shouldn’t do something, or that I can’t do something, and it’s all I can think about.
So yeah. Here I am. Once again.
Convincing myself that this diet thing is going to be GREAT. Sigh.
Any dieting words of wisdom for me?