Every now and again I tell myself that I need to put some variety in my meal planning.  It’s hard to cook for one.  Even when I try to cook for two with the intention of having leftovers so I don’t have to cook the following day, I still manage to make too much.  For many years I never bothered with freezing leftovers.  I‘d just eat it all until I was sick of it and then toss it out.  I’m getting better now, however, at using the freezer.  It used to be reserved for quick frozen meals like Marie Callender, frozen vegetables, frozen pizza, meat packages (that I always break down into one-person servings) and of course, the old standby – ice cream.  

When I get in diet mode, it’s generally after I’ve seen pictures of myself on Facebook. I keep thinking that sooner or later, I’ll have a picture that looks halfway decent but it’s not happening.  If it’s not unflattering pictures reminding me to get my act together, then it’s everyday movements that are becoming harder to perform.  Like getting out of a chair. Heaven help me if I pick one that’s too low.  Or walking down a flight of steps.  Or trying to go up steps without the benefit of a handrail. Or going shopping without a cart to hang on to.  Or going to the beach and not being able to climb over logs or walk on rocks. Or having to sit down and rest every ten minutes when you really want to zip through those yard and household chores that you used to enjoy doing.  And of course there’s always that high school reunion which you tell yourself right after Christmas that you’re going to be thin for come June.

I blame as much as I can on my age and you can’t know how comforted I am to be around people my age who need a nap; are struggling with sore knees and hips; who have to pee four times a night; who can’t remember all kinds of things; and who hate going to the doctor because of his/her stupid scale or the blood tests that come back showing just how terrible your eating habits have become.

The last time I had a talk with myself about changing my eating habits, I bought two new vegetarian cookbooks.  I sat down with them to read up on new recipes and ingredients I needed to put on my shopping list.  Some of those foods I’d never even heard of before! I’d already pretty much left drinking soda behind, but I decided maybe I would abstain from coffee to see if I felt better.  I drank organic tea for a couple weeks or more; I quit baking desserts; I had no after dinner snacks before bedtime; I cut out salt; I stopped buying bread and I snacked on healthy food.  I probably should have drank more water each day.  I tried. I probably should have exercised.  I tried.  Okay, I didn’t try that hard.  My doctor said that she knew exercising was harder for older people and not to worry about it. If I could cut down on portions and sweets, I was bound to see some weight loss.

Patience isn’t my strong suit.  When I’d lost a lousy four pounds after two weeks, I became discouraged and totally ticked off!  And depressed.  I don’t do well when the house is void of bread and ice cream.  I can get by without the ice cream most of the time but oh my, not that bread!  I love sandwiches. I love toast.  At first I only bought those skinny little Oroweat thins.  They toasted up okay and did the trick just fine.  Eventually, though, they were boring.  Everything was boring. My life sucked. Oh lordy, I’m such a whiny baby!  Oh well, at least I know I’m weak.

On the plus side, I am eating healthier and I am eating smaller portions.  I’ve got to be realistic.  I’m gonna’ be 74 next month and skinny Minnie will never be my nickname.  As the obits continue to feature more and more people I know, I think I should be thankful I can still eat ice cream. And I am! 

Also, the more you weigh, the harder you are to kidnap. Stay safe. Eat cake.

                 I like looking at old photos. I came across this picture from the 1980s when I attended a wedding at Cape George. I always liked that dress and the only big thing about me then was those glasses.