With two of us on a diet, things are a bit tense at my house. Not my husband. I’m talking about me and my dog. People had begun joking about the pretty face and fat body. No, not me, the dog.
It all started at the scales. It was embarrassing being weighed in front of everyone and having the results called out in the reception area. Again, I’m referring to the dog. I made up my mind that Lex needed to be on a diet. We could both stand to lose a few pounds.
The weight management food from the vet’s didn’t go over so great with Lexus at the beginning. What? No gravy? I split her reduced meal in half so she’d feel like she was getting twice as much to eat. Riiiight. Dogs are smarter than that. The good news is that she’s losing pounds at a steady rate. She’s already lost ten percent of her body weight. You go, girl!
Me? Well, I was doing great. The bragging kind of great. Limited to eating fruits, veggies, and lean meat was ... nutritious. But, when I saw those ten pounds slide right off the scale, it frightened me. If I kept losing weight at this rate, I’d soon look like a shrivelled up old woman. How awful that would be. So, I decided to eat normally − as in not so conscientiously healthy − and cut back on the exercise. I kept an eye on the scale to be sure I wasn’t gaining.
Then it hit me − the chocolate craving I get only once in a dog’s age. Sorry, Lex. Never had I bought chocolates for myself. Not by the box. I traced the raised lettering on the lid, all the while struggling against temptation. I reasoned that it was better than buying a chocolate bar – something I’d eat all at once. With a box of chocolates, I could have one now and then. I hurried to the checkout.
It’s still a puzzle how I gained three pounds from a one pound box of chocolates. And I didn’t even finish it in one sitting. That’s just crazy.
My cravings got worse. After a morning of shopping, I looked forward to a crisp salad for lunch. Then the aroma wafting across the parking lot drew me like a dog to a bone. Sorry, again. Hamburgers are great occasionally but fast food joints are never a consideration. That changed.
I swear when I ordered that burger, I had no clue it had two huge beef patties. Though fries had never been a favourite of mine, the out-of-nowhere craving for vinegar – loads of vinegar, the dark malt kind − made me slobber with desire. Not a pretty picture. Suddenly, a hamburger was nothing without fries.
For the record, I specified small fries to the skinny young thing at the counter. They put a little paper cup in the bottom of the bag and dumped the fries over top of it. It was insane. I had to leave them and sprinkle the vinegar into the bag – white vinegar, not malt – from those rinky dink little packages.
It’s never been a problem getting my mouth around a burger but believe me, this double burger with the works was a challenge to eat. Abhorred, I wiped the mustard from the corner of my mouth, crunched on the dill pickle, and tsked at the waste of fries. I vowed that was it. No more burgers and fries.
Even though I lost those pounds gained from chocolate and burgers, Lexus knew I had cheated. I could see it in her eyes. She sat in front of the cupboard − the one where I keep the treats she used to get. She nudged it open with her nose and mewed that mournful little whimper.
Okay, I told her, tomorrow’s a new day for both of us. I slipped her a milk bone, one of those supersized ones, and patted her head. I know how you feel, girl.