The Christmas Test

Why did I start this diet before the Christmas holidays?

That’s the question I asked myself this week as I stood among the sugar cookies, Hershey kisses and homemade fudge flooding my workplace. As Homer Simpson would say, “Mmmmmm…homemade fudge.”

At home I’m safe. Since starting the diet my fridge is a veritable garden. If I get hungry I have choices like apples or broccoli. No junk food whatsoever. That’s intentional. Flee temptation, the Bible says.

But at work I’m a sitting duck—especially when I hit the midday slump and am besieged by a hankering for the office’s smorsborg of culinary delights. Fortunately I have colleagues watching my back.

“Nooooo,” one warned as he spotted me veering toward a tin of cookies with lust gleaming in my eyes.

I’ve had the odd indiscretion, but overall I’m doing well. And it’s paying off. I’m down 11 pounds in only 3 weeks! And I feel better too. More energetic. My head is clearer. My wife says I’m even snoring less.

But the real test is still to come: Christmas itself. I’m already feeling sorry for myself, like a kid who knows he getting a lump of coal in his stocking. Yet I’ve found there’s always an excuse to overeat, so I’m taking a stand now. If I can stay strong at Christmas I figure I can withstand any temptation to come. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Week One: Temptation Strikes

Dizzy. Shaky. Irritable.

That’s how I felt the first day on the diet. I kicked off my morning with three Omega 3 eggs, a grapefruit and a glass of water. At 10 am I dutifully downed my “Perfect Weight” shake. Lunch was a spinach salad with vinaigrette dressing.

You’d think I’d be happy.

Nope. My stomach knew something was amiss. Where was the McDonalds? Where were the carbs and sugar? I was getting enough to eat, so I wasn’t hungry. But I wasn’t happy. Maybe this was the “detox” I’d been warned about. I was worried that by week’s end I’d be pulling imaginary spiders off my face.

Yet over the next few days I began to feel better. My body was gradually getting accustomed to subsisting on strange new foods like salmon, broccoli and salad.

But then I was confronted with the first test of my newfound resolve. It didn’t come in the form that I expected—I guess it never does. It wasn’t the smell of Cinnabon wafting through the mall or the lure of Cold Stone Icecream. It was the sweet, soft voice of my wife. I had fallen asleep on the couch. When I awoke, she was standing over me, holding a tray of chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven.

“Honey, you’ve been doing so well. Just one won’t hurt.”

I had two.

The next day, I was feeling a little guilty but got right back on the horse with a Perfect Weight America shake for breakfast. That day I stepped on the scale: down 4 pounds. Not a bad week ... the cookies notwithstanding.


To join me on the diet, click here.