Weighty Matters

Six pairs of old corduroy pants lay on the bed, ready to be tried on. Several minutes later, a self evident truth emerged. My closet was suddenly thinner but clearly I was not.

I do not own a scale. Thus in the past weeks, as I pulled up the underwear on both hips a little higher, I convinced myself that the protruding flesh was a mirage. When I looked into the full length mirror in the bedroom and was unhappy with the image staring back, I just raised the underpants and lowered the expectations.

After the latest Thanksgiving day massacre, I seemed to abandon all pretense of control. Moderation was a four letter word that I could not spell. It seemed that each day brought more than ample opportunity to become, well, more than ample. And what right did I have to squander an opportunity?

Have you ever eaten ziti pizza? What I find most appealing is not only the combination of 2 of my favorite foods, but the fact that the local establishment cuts their pies into enormous slices. Thus, when I decide to order only a single piece, I am being  prudent. I can understand why the mega soda has become an endangered species in New York City.

My wife has a pet peeve when I diet. Not because there is a change in my demeanor, or that the meals in our house become radically different. No, what ibbles her is how quickly the flab disappears. "It is just so much easier for you" she will tell me each time the bagels, ice cream, french fries, bread, cookies, and basically every single food I enjoy are placed on the "do not disturb" list.

But the truth is that I am fortunate. Once I decide to deprive myself of virtually everything I actually want to eat, I am not left to suffer for prolonged periods. I have a friend who was a poster child for improper eating habits for much of his adult life. When he decided several years ago that he had enough of too much, he went from sinner to saint. Since his revelation, he has reached almost a zen state. Of his last 1095 lunches, I would say that all but three were comprised of grilled chicken and salad. I greatly admire his fortitude and hope for his continued remarkable success, but following in his much smaller footsteps is not my goal.

And so, I have a reverse New Year's resolution. While virtually the entire planet sets aside January 1 as the day that the excess shall be no more, I am hoping that on that day I can abandon my ascetic ways. When that occurs there will be a piece of ziti pizza with my name on it, waiting for me to hold it gently in my hands. But only one.