Putting the DIE Back in Diet

Hey there Bleeps!

First off, thanks to everyone who participated in the Blog Hop from this weekend! The weekend got away from me, and I’m sorry if I didn’t make it over to your blog in time. I WILL be making my way through the list and saying WHAZZUP to all these awesome peeps.

Speaking of peeps, how was your Easter weekend? BTW, a happy belated Passover to all my Jewish friends!

Though my day was filled with family and good food, it wasn’t totally perfect for me. Why? Because Easter, among all that mushy religious stuff, is also a God-given blessed day to gorge yourself on chocolate rabbits, Reese’s mini-cups, and marshmallow chicks. Of course it’s God-endorsed gorging, haven’t you seen the picture with Jesus eating a Peep?

Chocolate and Nana’s cooking is always a recipe for total bliss for me, yet I am unfulfilled. Because I’m on a diet.

Blah. I hate that word. DIET. I’m certain it isn’t a coincidence that it begins with the word D-I-E.

While I’m not a bad or voluminous eater, I certainly have some weight to lose. It’s frustrating to me that I don’t eat much more or worse than other, more skinny folks, but yet my body is apparently operating under the pretense that we are about to go into a long winter, in Siberia, without any rations to sustain us whatsoever.

I think I shared in the past that Dr. H (my fertility doc) explained my body type as the kind that, should my oxen keel over and die in mid-field plowing, I could just pick up the yolk and finish the job myself. Great. Just awesome. A very convenient condition for the 1800s (pre-McDonalds) where a strong back and slow metabolism equaled a long life. Not so good right now.

On top of that, I’ve got that pesky PCOS. Ah, PCOS… where I can diet and exercise and still weigh 5000 lbs. Yeah, that's the one.

So, I'm doing some combination of a low-carb Weightwatchers... wish me luck.

How was your weekend?