Still learning after all these years

Move over, cupcake, I’m in Boot Camp, where life is lean and green, lemon juice is a staple, and beer has taken back seat to water.
Welcome to my world for the next 12 weeks. I’m knee-deep in Oprah’s Boot Camp and there’s no turning back until I can see my toes again.
First of all, I take back everything I wrote Dec. 29 about my ability to manage my weight.
Murphy’s Law must have been loitering in the cracks of my keyboard that day when I typed in the sentence: “I manage to maintain my weight over the winter even though I stop exercising in September . . . so if I ease up on the carbs until April, I can ride the wave pretty well without any sweat.”
I swear, no sooner had that column been inked, did the “buddha” grow equal to the distance across the Grand Canyon. The merry-go-round stopped turning and my figure got off.
You’d think I would have learned by now. What part of “My days as a junk food junkie are over” did I not understand? How many truckloads of diet yo-yos have to run me over before I get it?
Let the record books show I was blindsided once again.
All I know is that I spent most of January (and probably most of December, come to think of it) under the impression that I could get away with something called food.
Near the end of last month, I knew where I stood and I didn’t like it. I must have tried every trick in the book to push back that number on the scale. Naked, hair dry, hanging on to the wall with one foot off the scale while holding my breath.
The brutal truth still stared back at me—never mind the fact that the lycra in my jeans was screaming UNCLE!
Fate stepped in when I logged on to Oprah on Jan. 22 and learned about Boot Camp. Was I strong-willed enough to join the Battle of the Bulge? (come on now, who do you think you’re dealing with here?)
So Boot Camp it was. I pledged to green veggies, lean protein, and two fruit per day. I gave up all refined and processed carbohydrates and other fenced-off foods on the list.
And no chocolate (there goes my anti-wrinkle defence mechanism).
I also had to find 60 minutes a day (the “me time” that a lot of us women seem to lose to everybody else’s schedule) to exercise the “buddha” and friends.
And oh, did I mention no alcohol for 12 weeks, save my choice of three days during that time when I can have a). a glass of wine, maybe two or b). a bowl of pasta?
Yeah, like there’s going to be any problem deciding which of the two “treats” I’m going to choose. Hey, can I put all three days together and have one good kick at the Valpolicella?
All kidding aside, it’s been well worth the effort—even though the effort hasn’t been easy by any stretch of the imagination. There are days when I would rather admit being wrong in an argument with Pete than have to say no to a Snickers bar or a “cold one” (but I guarantee you the chocolate bar industry is feeling the pinch, the beer fridge is empty, and I’m still right).
And for those of you whose eyebrow is twitching wondering if I really do need to lose weight, here’s how far I’m willing to go to own the commitment.
When I signed up, I was 177 pounds. A healthy weight for all 5’3” of me (based on the Body Mass Index) is about 142 pounds.
I have no weight loss agenda for my three months in Boot Camp. I took it on because it was a challenge and because I needed a kick in the. . . .
But because this loser isn’t a quitter, I do have a goal to meet six months from now—and the view from here is all downhill.

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