Diet is a Four-Letter Word

Well, it's spring and I am blooming alongside the rest of nature. Just swell! The crocus and the hyacinth have learned to be lovely and fragrant, as they swell and blossom. While, it would seem that, I am just pudgy. Clad in the weighty evidence of winters' carb-laden comfort; I feign shock at the irrefutable evidence on my frame. Reality has established an absolute; I am destined to lose the same 8 lbs. every spring. Some people herald the arrival of spring by sighting the first robin or the Fed Ex Guy wearing shorts. I, however, watch the scale. As the indicator approaches a full 8 lb. gain, I know that spring as sprung.

The specter of bathing suit season looms. I look about nervously, trying to will that thought back into hibernation. I will arrive at resignation soon enough; denial is still happily in charge and planning my next snack. I am required to walk through my day with great care and stealth to avoid any reflective surfaces that might betray the slender vision of myself in my minds' eye (Fragile reverie. Kids, do not try this at home). It's vital to prepare mentally before engaging in this perennial battle, choose a strategy, amass an arsenal of defense and write out a culinary last will and testament.

Diet, that four-letter word, designed to separate me from cozy philosophy with mashed potatoes or the sunshine of a hot-buttered roll.....grrrr. If I may speak frankly, a tomatoe is lovely when served simply sliced; it hums a sun-warmed and fragrant melody. However, it stands up and sings an entire aria when dressed in glistening olive oil with its' best friends basil and mozarella di bufalo. Warm ciabatta bread will beg to come along; to be polite, you must acquiesce. While tomatoe and melba toast look on, forlorn, with noses pressed against the window. I realize this is just grief talking, yet....

Hanging by the slenderest thread, in desparation she cries, "My kingdom for a croissant!" This declaration assures me that I am sufficiently deprived and should begin to see results soon. Yesterday, the scent of a cinnamon roll candle sent me drooling over the Pavlovian edge....pitiful spectacle.

Will Shakespeare said, "Appetite is a universal wolf". Now would that be served with or without gravy?!!