"It's not a diet," they say, "it's a lifestyle."
This is the mantra of Weight Watchers and my nutritionist. You're adopting a new way of eating that will stick forever, so says the brochure. This is not something you go on, and then go off of, and then later, go on again.
You don't want to lose the weight during the "diet" and then yo-yo it back on when you re-enter "real life." So, dear readers, this is not a "diet" that I appear to be on right now. Heavens to Betsy, no. You see, I am changing my habits and making a Brand New Me!
Uh, yeah. Can I let you in on a secret? When the flight attendant asks to turn everything off with an ON and OFF switch, the first thing I reach for is my diet.
I am on a diet. Right now, as I write this. I weigh 233 pounds, down 2.4 from last week. I am actively not eating foods I would prefer to eat. I am choosing wisely, yes. I have set priorities and act upon them every time I choose or not choose what to eat or drink. This is all very mature and adult. But it's a diet and it sucks, it will always suck, diets suck, and for the record if anybody asks, I would waste my one wish just to visit a goddamn Cinnabon right now. Remember, you can't spell "diet" without "die mother@#$%* die."
The notion that I can retrain my mind to this new "lifestyle" is just as ridiculous as therapies to cure gayness or peace accords between Dog and Squirrel. I will never change into a spa-cuisine kind of eater. I will never choose edamame over taters. Turkey sandwiches are a good dieting value but they will always be the runner-up, never the prize.
The prize goes to any one of the sandwiches in HuffPost's recent Best Grilled Cheese In the US slideshow. (Christ on a Deep-Fried Cheese Stick, they're using macaroni and cheese as sandwich filler now!!!)
The notion that I can unfold a paper clip, stick the tip into my brain, and press the RESET button that will make me go cuckoo for Brussels' sprouts is insane.
I can tell you there are small items where dieting has altered my food preferences. Skim milk seems natural to me. My family loves SodaStream, and where we all used to live on Fresca and Trader Joe's sparkling lemon water, we prefer plain sparkling water now. But these are rounding errors not game changers.
One idea of "not a diet but a lifestyle" is this forced-fun pretense: the "You're gonna LOVE THIS!" pitch that nobody believes, not the person saying it, nor the person receiving it. When anybody tells me, "Don't think of what you're doing as a diet. Instead, you have to make it a lifestyle change," I always imagine what it must be like for a pregnant woman at the dinner table. Along comes a tap-tap-tap from the Baby Daddy's plate as his knife subtly points to her pile of uneaten vegetables. "You're eating for two," he chummily says. "Schmuck you," she singsongs back, or something that rhymes with that.
When other people claim to know what foods you'd prefer more than yourself and then force them on you, it's arrogant. When they tell you what foods you should prefer it's like arguing that you should prefer blue instead of your favourite color. And when it's packaged as a hard sell, it's a personal affront.
I'm on a diet. I'm trying to lose weight for personal reasons and when it comes off, I intend to keep it off. For the rest of my life. It will be hard because I'll be dieting when I would prefer to eat the things I love. It's going to suck for a long, long time. "Nothing tastes as good as thin feels!" Except for a deep fried macaroni and cheese and bacon sandwich.