Hope Springs Eternal

By TAD BARTIMUS

The phrase "hope springs eternal" was coined for women on diets.

Another summer, another bathing suit. Every April I’m sure this will be the year when I finally drop the (20,25,30,35) pounds I need to shed in order to regain the figure I used to have when I was thin but thought I was fat.

Life, I tell myself, would be perfect if a size-12 bikini on a sale rack fit me. I’ve struggled with my weight all my adult life; I’m sure my first diaper was a 6X. My mother was beautiful and petite, my father handsome and muscular. I got her voice and his thighs.

I have a thin friend who writes stories on health and nutrition for women’s magazines, the kind dieters avoid while waiting in line at the grocery store. These magazines always have size-two models on the covers (not that I have anything against size-two models – if I was one, I’d wear those dresses, too). Besides wanting to teach me how to braise endive, train for triathlons and pick perfume to please my mate, these magazines also make losing weight seem like a cinch (pardon the expression).

My svelte friend, who has borne three children, including twins, still fits into her wedding dress. When she isn’t writing she bakes and sells elaborate cakes. She’s around sugar, flour, butter, butter and nuts all day. Alone in her kitchen, without witnesses.

If I was her, I’d constantly be dipping my finger in the icing bowl for a "taste check", gobbling up the candied pansies, hoarding the cream cheese roses, tucking little mini-cakes into the back of the pantry for a late-night snack. If caught, I’d swear I was looking for the fish steamer.

My friend claims she never cheats, not even a nibble. She isn’t sanctimonious, even when she lies and tells me I only need to "take off a few pounds." She also eagerly shares her tips for keeping her shapely shape: eat smaller portions, savor food by chewing slower; cut binges short; don’t feel guilty; keep a running total of daily calorie intake, never let more than five pounds separate ideal weight from real weight.

That advice came in a Christmas card the year I discovered pre-mixed chocolate chip cookie dough in five-pound tubs. The label said the mix would last in my refrigerator up to three months; it was gone in a week.

Usually I’m relieved when September arrives. I can congratulate myself for losing 10 pounds – the same 10 I lose every summer – and then resume eating apple crisps and meatloaf instead of celery and carrots. Cellulite can be camouflaged under baggy pants and loose sweaters, and my husband stops complaining he can’t find his Cheez Whiz because I throw out all the half-eaten cartons of spoiled fat-free cottage cheese and half-drunk jugs of tomato juice.
This year, however, September is going to be different. Somehow without noticing it, I lost 18 pounds on my summer diet, even with a strawberry pie backslide here and there. That’s too much success to be dismissed as water retention, too little to fall off the wagon.

My knees feel better, my spirits are up, my jeans fit. I’ve decided to keep going. I’ve stocked up on protein powder for twice-a-day shakes. I’m taking plenty of vitamins, drinking lots of water and eating unsalted almonds and dried banana snacks. My grocery bill is half what it was in May.

My first goal is to drop another dress size by New Year’s eve. My second is to wear a sale rack bikini next summer. I’m even learning to like soy milk and flax seed; wheat germ isn’t so bad if you drink it fast in the morning.

My reward for abstaining from tacos, pizza and potstickers with plum sauce will be a guilt-free angel food cake baked by my skinny friend when I lose another 10 pounds. Check in at www.tadbartimus.com to follow my progress. If you’re also dieting, let me know about your success. If I can do it, so can you!



© 2002 The Women Syndicate

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