Tomorrow is the start of another new diet; therefore, I should eat all the things that I won’t be able to eat for the rest of my life, in one night.
I’m sitting at my desk, surfing the internet, reading the latest and greatest diet reviews, watching YouTube videos on how this brand new diet is going to be the answer to my tight fitting pants. I’m making lots of notes and lists. The lists include all the food I can’t eat, the limited food I can eat, and all the new diet supplements that I will have to purchase from Amazon. I even debate whether I should pay the super extra shipping to have those pills tomorrow, because after all, I am starting my new diet tomorrow. No putting it off. I am embarking on a treacherous journey to fight flab and fat. Today, I am bulking up for a new dieting marathon. Because today is “The Last Supper.”
After adding all the supplements to my virtual cart and clicking the appropriate boxes for purchase, I immediately walk to my favorite coffee shop that sells the most delightful, crispy as well as chewy, enormous chocolate chip cookies. I vow to enjoy every savorful morsel of the delightful wonder. The sugary splendor is slightly offset by a perfect pinch of salty goodness. Oh yes, I should get a full fat chocolate mocha which would undoubtedly wash down the last morsels of the cookie very nicely. Now, mind you, I never drink fufffy coffee drinks. I am actually lactose intolerant and overstepping my limits of my “Last Supper” enjoyment to include items that I would not normally include in a “non-dieting” day and likely causing my body irritation and harm. The rub to that, I don’t believe I’ve ever had a normal “non-dieting” day. Normal eating doesn’t work with my all or nothing mentality.
I get the cookie to go, careful to notice if anyone I know saw me purchase the cookie. Afterall, I profess to be gluten and lactose free, so I carefully remind those who know me that the cookie has been purchased for my son. I don’t bother to explain the mocha. I head to my car vowing not to touch this marvel of creation until I am back at my desk. But I can’t resist breaking off an end piece, and then another piece before I even get the car started. I scarf down the remaining cookie with my next “Last Supper” delectable already in play before I finish the 5 minute journey back to my office. I know, I could have walked, but that would have taken too much time from my “Last Supper” day and my strict exercise regime doesn’t start until tomorrow.
The Eating Continues
After work, I suggest to my boyfriend we enjoy a well deserved date night at our favorite guilty pleasure establishment. He has no idea I am starting yet another diet in the morning. The fried chicken is salty, juicy, and crispy complete with Jo Jo’s (fried potato wedges) an ice berg lettuce salad with loads of blue cheese. I also enjoyed spicy buffalo wings and a few shots of cheap bar wine to wash down all the deliciousness. At this point my gut is doing backflips and screaming at me. At home, after all are in bed, in true “closest eater” style, I scrounge for whatever is sweet. I might get lucky and find a Nutter Butter or two. But, sometimes I have to improvise and lather peanut butter on a rice cake and top it with marshmallow fluff and chocolate chips. I highly recommend this wonderful treat. This would rank close to a fried peanut butter and banana sandwich, another delicious delight.
The Next Morning
I wake swollen, bloated and disgusted with myself. But, mentally ready to begin the best diet I am ever going to try. I reassure myself that this is going to be the diet to end all diets and I will be “good” this day
I’m a reformed yo-yo dieter and closet eater. Throughout my life, I have experienced countless “Last Supper” meals, too many to count. I am sharing my story because I know that yo-yo dieters around the world can relate to my “Last Supper” story. Currently, I’m a struggling Intuitive Eater and working to keep my yo-yo dieting a thing of the past.
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