On the (Butter)horns of a dilemma

Here I sit, having face-time with the perennial decision of any dieter, "Do I or don't I?"

Somebody said that foods made with salt, sugar, and fat are the most irresistible. Why not just call them what they are, "baked goods?" I am practically captive to their doughy gooey pull; Homer strapped to the mast, whilst the sweet scent of glaze sings upon the wind unto me. If not for the pull of the ropes of self-restraint, I would fall victim to their fetching, alluring, siren-quality magnetism, throwing myself full-force into a mound of éclairs, finding light only after munching and devouring my way to the top.

Yet, when rational thought surfaces, I am aware that the self-control now under assault is the ground floor of everything I have accomplished. My head is held higher, my stomach is flatter, my blood pressure is lower, my muscles are tighter. By no coincidence, these all exist in the same period when my self-esteem is Everest high.

I am no Johnny-come-lately to healthful eating, recognizing that a weight gain is neither the result of ONE bear claw nor a SOLITARY cake donut with extra sprinkles. Conversely, I am also weary; as the precipitous journey begins with a single, minor step. The rapid slide from grace is birthed by a thoughtless, momentary, loss of control. It is not food itself that causes obesity; rather one's midsection expands due to an infection of the thoughts: "There's always tomorrow," or, "Just this once," or "What's the use?"

On some wondrous occasions, my thoughts are ill equipped to verbalize how adrenalized am I about taking care of myself. At once, I am excited, enthused, motivated, energized, inspired, happy, radiant and effusive; just to scratch the surface. I proclaim broadly my successes to anyone within earshot. I post it on my blog and send it worldwide via email. Should four commuters be waiting at a bus stop, they become fair game to hear my testimony of success. Life is grand. All is at it should be.

Yet...

There are those "other" moments when I would rather endure a root canal sans Novocain than spend one more second monitoring fat and fiber grams, calculating calories, weighing portions, tracking food intake, and reading labels. I have had my fill of conscious eating, healthy thinking, and positive affirmations. Should yet one more unexpecting soul make the well-intentioned mistake of reminding me, "Nothing tastes as good as thin feels," it is not outside the scope of reality that I might lose control and silence such drivel by forcefully shoving full his blathering pie hole with three gallons of rocky-road, peanut brickle, high-fat ice cream. In those times, I cannot be counted as reasonable. But part of being human is to know we all go through them. Anyone who tells you he doesn't is either criminally oblivious or a liar.

This is the yin and yang, ebb and flow, push and pull of dieting; joy and frustration each swirling about, chomping at the bit to make known their presence at any moment. They co-exist without end; to make one rise or the other fall, we merely change focus. And the nice thing is, that is always within my power.