Advice from a small town girl

Before I write another word, I want to thank everyone who reads this weekly diatribe and is kind enough to comment on it.

I especially want to thank the neighbor who called and offered to provide me with the nutritional product that she uses.

I also want to thank the friend who braved First Avenue traffic to ask if I was all right, after a particularly depressed-sounding column. I am OK. Mostly.

I want to thank the people who have offered to and actually have commuted to Weight Watchers meetings with me.

I want to thank my very good friend who reminds me regularly that the Serenity Prayer isn’t meant to be read (or said) and then ignored.

And I want to thank the woman who told me I should just stop eating for a month. Like that’s ever going to happen.

What amazes me is that you actually read this stuff. And I thank you for that.

I discovered recently one sure-fire way to decrease my desire to eat.

Pain.

Pain is the only appetite suppressant I’ve ever found that actually worked for me. First of all, it made me feel slightly ill, but mostly I think it worked because it hurt too much to get up and walk to the kitchen.

And I’ll stay fat forever rather than seek out pain, although staying fat forever is probably pretty much the same thing.

And I just don’t want to go there.

I’ve spent the past couple of weeks just wanting to simplify everything.

I don’t know about you, but every once in a while I just start feeling squeezed, and the only solution seems to be to get rid of things.

Possessions, toxins or habits. And advice, whether from friends or books or television advertising.

Of course, what starts out as a desire to simplify frequently just ends up being more complex than before.

I’ve been thinking I should just go cold turkey.

I think I should be able to get up one morning (probably a Monday – isn’t that when all self-improvement programs start?) and not have any coffee. I would drink only water. I like water.

I would eliminate from my plate, cup or glass (or fingers, if it comes to that) any item that has an ingredient I can’t pronounce, on the theory that if I can’t say it, it can’t be good for me.

Then I would eliminate anything that comes in a box or a plastic bottle. I’m not sure why, it just seems right.

And, sadly, I would also eliminate the genie that comes in the green glass bottle.

I would be in bed by ten and up by six (well, maybe 6:30), which would be easy once I successfully weaned myself off of the coffee and the wine.

I would walk away from the TV, which I believe is the single worst influence on behavior in the history of the world. .

And, on my way away from the TV, I would get in a modicum of healthy exercise.

Since I would be getting plenty of rest, I would have lots of energy to exercise and play and pull weeds and mow lawns and write and quilt and . . .

More later.