Picture Me Glum

I thought I’d be strong.
I thought I’d turn up my nose at the choices of others.
I thought I’d blithely go about my business, ignoring temptation.

But nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

All the stuff for tomorrow’s bar-b-que just arrived, and now I’m depressed.

No hamburgers for me. No chips and salsa for me. Not even a lousy scoop of potato salad.

I’m still on Jenny.

Yes, although I haven’t mentioned it lately (since I re-directed my blog efforts at writing topics), the truth is I’ve been on the Jenny Craig diet for four solid weeks now. Weight loss = five pounds. Woo hoo.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m pleased. And the truth is, it’s not a hard diet to follow. The food is even edible and I’ve managed to limit my alcohol intake to white whine spritzers (misspelling intended). But still….God, it all looks so good.

I have 24 hours to dream about those three large bags of unopened chips. Twenty-four hours to salivate over the ice cream bars. Twenty-four hours to choose between Jenny’s tuna salad pack or her frozen turkey burger or…whatever.

Okay, let’s say it together, shall we? I will survive.

My birthday is less than a month away (yes, it’s that time again—the season has almost begun!) and I intend to take a mini-break from the diet to celebrate. By then, I should be almost "svelte", able to wear oodles of the out-of-date fashions hanging in my closet, and ready to eat all my favorite foods.

Oh, and best of all? My parents will have to shut the hell up.

Kidding.

Postscript to Blogreader Joe: No, I will probably NOT get down to pre-Argentina weight. Deal with it.