Losing Weight

(Prelude - Once a month I attend a writing workshop where we basically sit and write for a good 30 minutes. A topic choice is presented and then we free write. Following is what I wrote on that auspicious Mardi Gras day)

A lifelong, year after year, both January 1st and Chinese New Year, birthday, and anniversary (all of them) personal resolution I have is to lose weight. I strive for this year after year for all the right and wrong reasons. The older I get the more urgent the need to succeed as I watch my weight creep steadily upward and onward like an old soldier. And I am ever hopeful. In fact I figure I'm halfway to success in that I know everything and anything there is to know about losing weight, getting in shape, and restoring my health. I seriously do. I know what you should eat and how much of it. I know when you should eat and in combination with what. I know how much you should exercise to lose weight, what kind of exercise, how intense and how often. I have a shelf full of the latest fad, most recently Dr. Oz. I have a dietician I meet with monthly and a daughter who is taking a university level nutrition class who has dubbed me her focus for the semester course.
And yet every time I set my sights, once again, upon that elusive brass ring the stars align themselves in an attempt to test my fortitude. And who am I to battle with the stars? Take for instance the McDonald's cookies and Hershey's chocolate peanut butter candies that are strategically placed in the teachers' lounge or the students who present me with a wonderfully baked chocolate brownie in cute cupcake form. Their delectable scents waft ever so gently towards my nostrils. Temptation at its finest.
I strive to be strong. Resist. Decline. But I am weak.
I wonder if these temptations are put before me to see how committed I am to achieving my goal. It always seems as if two weeks of adherence is blown to smitherenes by one weekend of indulgence. It just doesn't seem right. Or fair. or maybe I'm just not ready. Maybe it's not my time.
Oh, but it is. There is my skinny self beneath these layers screaming to be seen. It's in me and it wants, I WANT, her to show her sucked in face, flat tummy, and skinny thighs off for once in her freakin life.
I want it. And I want it now. Okay. I think I can do it this time. No overdoing it. No wasted calories. Portion control. Good choices. Daily walks. Strength training. Okay, I got it. I can do it.
Wait a minute. Isn't today Fat Tuesday? Okay, I'll start tomorrow. In honor of Lent. And I'm not even Catholic.