endofthedayI read a review of this book – The Diet Fix (Why Diets Fail) – in the newspaper last night.

After I’d Googled for more information, I had one of those Eureka moments. Why diets fail? Our expectations are out of whack with our capabilities. We over-hope that this time….this will be the time that we succeed. But usually we backslide and give up. We are not accountable enough to ourselves. I know that’s true. I’m not angry about it. It just is.

Dr. Yoni Freedhoff says that keeping a food diary is one predictor of success. Damn it. I’ve been slacking off doing daily entries into My Fitness Pal and coincidentally, my weight loss has stalled. If I don’t have to record that spoonful of chocolate chip cookie bar dough that I licked, then it doesn’t count, does it? If I don’t have to search for the calorie count of the half inch of crispy edges I cut off and ‘taste-tested’, then what was the harm? Ah, the human condition.

Intellectually, I know that there is no actual harm except to my progress and to my ego because I’m not holding myself to account for my behaviour. Sounds like reform school, doesn’t it? But the same principles apply. There are rules. We have to accept the rules because most of the time they make sense. We have to report in so that we can track our progress. Then. when we’re successful, we give ourselves a high-five. Or buy something nice. But quit the food rewards.

The older I get, the more of a rebel I’ve become. I do not like authority. Is that senior contrariness? Perhaps. Oh, I usually abide by the speed limits, I don’t steal, I try hard not to be mean-spirited. But when I know that I have to deprive myself of something, I work hard to find alternatives to doing what I really should do. Character flaw. Not a huge one, but certainly something that slows me down when I have a goal. My objectives are still the same, but honestly, every week that I fall behind my pound-a-week goal, I get better at rationalizing why I’m not meeting it. I haven’t been meditating. I certainly have not been mindful. So damned juvenile. And self-defeating. I literally need to give my head and my body a shake. Lots of shakes. Start running again. Lift heavier weights. Push, push, push.

Easter is coming. Ham, turkey with dressing and gravy. Snacks and desserts. My promise to myself. I will practice moderation. Eat the crudités but without creamy dip for snack. Serve myself smaller portions of starch and protein and down more vegetables. A small piece of something for dessert but pass on the ice cream. Not eating Easter chocolate won’t be difficult because that cheap mass-produced stuff gives me a headache.

The next few weeks will be insane at work. I haven’t been able to squeeze in more than one walk the last week, which bums me out. But I’ve done a lot of stair climbing. I’m feeling strong. Writing regularly. Now I have to refocus. Get back on track. Back on track. Maybe I’ll use those words in a song. Back on track….