I’ve been a committed yo-yo dieter since the first time I realized I could no longer fit into a size 12. That’s a lifetime ago (fitting into a single digit size was in a lifetime that only existed in my fantasies and even those are getting supersized). Yo-yo-ing predates any pregnancy so that the only thing that could reasonably explain my current weight is an unconditional love of snacking.
Today the yo-yo is going down as I start the second day of my forks over knives diet for the 16th time this calendar year. I actually like the food on Forks Over Knives and/or South Beach diets — especially in the summer. They both make good use of everything in my garden, and the recipes tend to be flavorful.
The problem with any of these diets is the recipes. You don’t just pop something in the microwave oven to preheat from last night. You cut and sautee and brown and separate. That wonderful salad or baked fish is a truck load of work with five or six different kinds of vegetables to be chopped, making me wonder if it’s just a coincidence that diet and work both have four letters.
I know it will be worth it when the dress hanging up at the back of my closet zips without any contortions or grunted prayers to the scale god, but right now it’s just work.