By my last calculation, it’s been well over a year since I
last wrote. Happily, you haven’t missed much. Apart from the typical “making a spectacle
of ourselves wherever we go” (legitimately everywhere
we go), life in Franklin has progressed rather slowly, much to my absolute
dismay. The Super Walmart is still in a heated battle with the Piggly Wiggly
for the patronage of the town’s hundreds of thousands of residents, and
the Asian buffet is still the most exotic date-night location. We did, however,
see the addition of not one but TWO liquor stores and a Dairy Queen. Seriously.
What joy is mine! Except for the fact that these two minor developments alone
caused a monumental shift in the earth’s gravitational pull, mostly (okay,
mainly) due to my minor weight gain, which itself is the direct result of
my utter lack of judgment and restraint when it comes to consuming both alcohol
and the entire DQ menu…
Perhaps it was my need for excitement or a desperate change
of pace, but I made the executive family decision at the start of this year to
severely cut back on our carb intake and experiment with new ways of eating
detestable things like squash and pig of any kind. I think we all cried a
little in that moment, especially the baby who could consist happily on a diet
of noodles and condiments.
To prepare, I did what any self-respecting, carb-cutting
human would do: I fed my kids as many carbs as possible and utterly destroyed
the rest myself. It was like a carb massacre. The week leading up to D-Day was
a blur of pasta, pizza, blizzards, and French fries. We went out in epic style,
or, as Bon Jovi so eloquently put it, “… in a blaze of glory.” My grocery
shopping trip that weekend was depressing. I shoved lean meats, fish, and every
vegetable that I could pronounce into my cart. I wept as I cast a fleeting
glance at the cereal and snack food isles. I may or may not have even paused inadvertently
for a moment of silence…
For the first two weeks on the “diet,” Tim and I went
hardcore, cold-turkey, absolutely no sugar, fruit, pasta, white anything
(except for ranch!), etc. I counted every carb. It was a tedious and unpleasant
business. I wanted to stab someone. Looking back, I’m positive I did threaten
to stab someone. I missed sugar. And bread. And carbs. And bread and sugar. It
was like being in a 12-step program. I felt the need to apologize to all the
people I verbally assaulted during my withdrawal period. But we soldiered on,
and at the end of two weeks, I was noticeably lighter. Like, seven pounds
lighter.
Then came the 15-year anniversary of my dad’s death. (Insert
sound of record screeching here.)
Yes. I did eat Arby’s, Papa John’s, and Dairy Queen all in
one day. And wine. I had wine too. Don’t judge me. Like any addict who falls
off the wagon, I had to turn in my chip and start over. Today marks one day back
on board, and I intend to make a stronger go of it this time. I can honestly
say that Tim has made me a believer in new food experiences, including but not
limited to spaghetti squash. And I did not die when I ate asparagus, so that in
itself is a major win. And pork. I ate pork the other night. And LIKED it.
I've decided that, if nothing else, I've conducted an
interesting social experiment, with myself at the center, and I've grown and maybe
even learned something as a result? I tried something new, something different,
and for me, that’s kind of a big deal. I actually removed “absolutely not” from
my vocabulary for two whole weeks, and that’s just crazy…
Not the super funny, thought provoking, gut-wrenchingly hilarious
post I envisioned for my initial foray back, but cut me some slack. I’m 12
hours off the sugar and dealing…
J.
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