This is day five of this thing they call a “diet”. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted anything that has the word “die” in it. And apparently this diet plans to kill me by hacking a pound or two off my body every week until I’m gone.
Anyway my diet involves two very specific steps.
1) I want food
2) My wife won’t give me any
I have half a mind to hoist myself off this couch and get it myself except I’m not entirely sure where she keeps it. Plus she’s set up this thing called a “no fail environment” where she’s essentially hidden all the food.
Our pantry used to draw envious looks from the likes of Willie Wonka and the Keebler Elves. Now it looks like those countries you see in UNICEF adds where it hasn’t rained in 37 years.
There’s another component of this “diet” I should mention. Its called “exercise”, and it involves putting one foot in front of the other repeatedly—and it doesn’t end at the refrigerator or couch. I have been engaging in this senseless activity for the last week and have logged approximately twelve miles. Yet I find myself standing in the exact spot where I started.
I was also startled to learn this week that most buildings are equipped with a backup to the elevator. Its called “stairs” and I find myself climbing up and down them like some sort of deranged hamster.
I’d like to say I’m doing this out of some noble effort to get into shape and live longer and healthier…look better. But that sounds like my wife talking.
I’m doing it because of my “Fitbit” Ultra wireless tracker. The little sucker sits at my side, watching every step I take, every calorie I eat and every calorie I burn. It’s like having my wife clipped to my belt! My ultimate goal isn’t to lose weight, but to crush every record ever set by Fitbit wearers around the world. I’m competitive that way.
Anyway, after five days I’m proud to say the diet hasn’t killed me… but it’s trying. It’s carved 5 pounds off of me so far.