Like some of you, I’m working on getting rid of a few (ok, so more than a few and I can’t bear to see the number in writing) unwanted holiday pounds, which appear to be the result of weeks of over-indulging (think eggnog, a martini or two … or maybe three, my favorite raspberry bar cookies, chocolate cookies, sugar cookies and, oh hell, any kind of cookies, and dinner out — so not healthy — practically every night) combined with too much to do, too little sleep and not enough time in the day to keep my routine up at the gym.
Anyone else out there in this predicament?
The touted solutions all seems so easy. Join Nutrisystem, WeightWatchers, Jenny Craig, see a nutritionist, drink Plexus, follow Atkins or South Beach. (I’m sure I’m missing some of the hundreds of commercials I’ve seen, or tried to block out, in the past week.) Basically, I must prevent anything that tastes good from going past my lips (I’ve considered buying a chocolate bar and just licking it, but then again I’m not Miley Cyrus) for the next few months.
My world has become a collage of mixed messages in my head and my brain’s hard drive has gone haywire — or is that food wire? Eat this, don’t eat that. No eating that, don’t eat this. No sugar, no fat, no carbs, no meat, no dairy. Hmmm, that pretty much leaves only broccoli for breakfast, lunch and dinner. ( don’t have anything against broccoli, especially if it’s roasted.)
Or, join a gym. We have to make exercise a priority, we have to expend more calories than we put in. Really? So if I have two martinis tonight, that’s an extra 30 minutes on some piece of gym apparatus that is already covered with someone else’s sweat. Why do I like working out? Someone remind me!
After just one workout this week, my sore muscles are whining every time I move as living proof that’s it’s been too long. I’m out of shape and I have only eight weeks until spring break. Yikes! The cold and dreary days make it even more difficult to get out of bed at 5 a.m., so I can fit it in. I’m trying!
Then this week I almost checked myself into the nearest hospital following a breakdown. After a sleepless, stressful night of dealing with business issues, I ran bleary eyed to Starbucks for my morning cup of joe and I practically wrecked my car into the menu board at the drive through as I was accosted by the photo of the “new” January treats: salted caramel everything! Temptation was everywhere I looked. Half the menu was taken up with yummy looking goodies. Then, there it was … a picture of the salted caramel square. OMG! The description was so sinful I had to look away.
A dense chocolate square full of crunchy pretzels, pecans and swirled with caramel. At only 380 calories per bar — that’s practically two meals on my restricted calorie count.
All I can say is, “Seriously, Starbucks, are you trying to wreck my diet? Couldn’t you have waited until at least Feb. 1 to unleash your sticky, salty, sweet and chocolatey treats? Don’t you know I have an addiction to fight? You could have waited until closer to Valentine’s Day to present us with some new choices to sooth our by-then-sugar-deprived-and-hopefully-thinner bodies.
When the voice across the intercom said, “Would you like to try our new caramel flan latte today?” I thought I might have a stroke as I could barely keep myself from yelling back, “Are you nuts? It’s January. I’m on a diet!”
It was all I could do to smile at the “barista” who handed me my boring order for a tall blonde roast. It’s not her fault, I repeated under my breath, while what I truly wanted to do was reach into her window and pull her out by her pony tail and slap some sense into her, while hoping she would pass on the experience to the higher ups. But no, instead I murmured, “Have a great day!” as she handed me my plain jolt of caffeine. I drove off, sans salted carmel square or caramel flan latte. Sigh.
I am committed to wearing a blindfold into Starbucks for the next few weeks, and if any of you see me devouring one of those caramel delights in a moment of weakness any time soon, please feel free to walk up to me and rip it right out of my hands in disgust. I’m just sayin’.
Here’s to a healthier, happier 2014! (I will get sucked into buying one of those salted caramel choices, one day…I promise.)