Well, I'm dieting. I'd say again, but it's been many years since I've seriously dieted and not just "watched what I was eating" - something that definitely hasn't been working.

I finally bit the bullet after visiting my doctor a couple months ago. Instead of just being weighed — which I could have handled — this new scale gave a printout that included all this information I really didn't want to have, like my percentage of body fat and how close to obesity I am. Apparently, I'm right on the border. Talk about a shock!



I've never been skinny but spent most of my adult life since high school wearing a size nine. Then, about twelve or so years ago, I started putting on weight. A few pounds every years. And losing it was hard. Really hard. I sort of quit trying (okay, bad me). This last trip to the doctor showed I'd gained a total of forty pounds. Forty pounds!!! How in the heck did that happen? I mean, really. I don't remember packing it on. Since when does one cookie cause that kind of weight gain?

Sigh.

Long story short, a few weeks ago I met with the nutritionist at my doctor's office and began dieting under her care. I have to go in once a week and get weighed, which is good and helping me to stay on track. The dieting is hard. I can only eat like seven things. Fine, that's an exaggeration, but it feels like seven things. And I'm tired of salads twice a day.

On the plus side, I've lost eleven pounds so far. Not enough to show yet but my pants are fitting a bit loser, which his encouraging. I'm not trying to lose the full forty pounds. Trust me, that's way beyond my abilities. Twenty is my goal, and I'm starting to think I can manage that. I'll keep you posted.

Cathy McDavid

PS - any "poor baby" words of sympathy will be greatly appreciated :)