There are two things I have learned about dieting—excuse me, I mean “healthy living” (because it’s a lifestyle change, not a diet, you know {“dieting” has become another victim of the politically incorrect movement, so let’s all thank the ’90s}).  I have learned:

1) Will power doesn’t have anything to do with muscle tone.

2) Exercising self-control doesn’t burn any calories.

Ironic, isn’t it?  Power, exercise, control…all these words imply some sort of mighty mighty overthrow of gluttony, but at the end of the day, it’s nothing but a bunch of hot air.

In an ideal world, I would lose weight based on what I haven’t eaten since Christmas.  Think about it: how many holiday candies, baked goods, Girl Scout cookies, fancy restaurant desserts, Dairy Queen™ cherry dipped cones, cheesecakes, and glasses of strawberry lemonade have I turned down since December 30th?  At least five pounds worth. This weekend alone, I turned down baskets full of Cadbury™ mini eggs, cream-filled chocolates, Caramilks™, Mars Bars™, birthday cake, Saskatoon berry pie+ice cream, and my own dadgum homemade cookies!  If I had consumed even half of what I was offered this week, I would have gained many many pounds.

Shouldn’t it naturally follow, then, that I ought to have lost many many pounds, simply by exercising restraint for days on end?

Ah, but no: exercise of restraint—though comparable to marathon-running in exhaustiveness and difficulty—doesn’t actually burn a single calorie.  It’s one of the greatest injustices of my life.

The good news is this: I have lost 19 pounds (it was up to 21, but what can I say?  I’m only human} since December 30th, and my pants—what few pairs I own—are falling off my bum.  {I suppose that last part doesn’t necessarily qualify as “good news,” but that’s just me, the eternal optimist!}

The bad news is: I started a Biggest Loser competition with my mom, my sister, and my friend, after I had already lost my first 19 pounds.  Losing another ten has proved very difficult for me.  Which means, in another day or two, I will likely have to part with $20, because I will probably not be the biggest loser.

But let’s end on a bright note (again with the eternal optimism nonsense): I have lost 19 pounds, and I am not giving up my quest to lose another ten before June 20th.  I look back on pictures like these below {I snapped them myself in November (almost the height of my weight gain)}, and I can see a difference:

See, I had intended to post about Geneva’s necklace all the way back then, but I just couldn’t figure out why my face looked so plump in these pictures.

…I tried shifting my hair around…

…and I tried turning my head different angles…

…but I still wasn’t happy with my appearance.  Finally, I just cut my face out of the pictures, but that didn’t really solve my problem—it just cropped itself out of my immediate awareness.  It was a crop-out cop-out.

I never did post about the necklace, until yesterday, that is.  Oh, sure, I’ll probably always have insecurities about my body.  But never again do I want to feel like I did back in November—like I had to hide my face because someone I knew from high school might read my blog and feel satisfied that I’d put on weight.

And if my $20 is going to such a worthy cause—that three of the women I love most in my life are working to improve their health and self-esteem—well…let’s just say…

…it’s a very small price to pay.  I’m not rich, but I’d pay that times ten, if it would help the people I love feel this way.

And that’s why, when Poor Kyle was Photoshopping™ the pictures for yesterday’s post, I asked him to please leave my pimples just how they were.  (You can see them nice and big if you click on this photo once, and then a second time—they’ll take over your screen.)

p.s.  I’m not fishing for compliments, just for the record.  I had an entirely different post planned for today, but Poor Kyle advised me to cheer things up around here.  He said I’ve been a major downer lately, and nobody likes the girl who sucks the fun out of life.  So I thought and I thought, and I searched for something to be happy about, and guess what?  It worked.  I really am happy for my own hard work.  I think I’ve overcome my bout with depression. Thanks, Poor Kyle.

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