Never Say Diet!

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Never Say Diet!

Okay, 'fess up. How many of you are still keeping your New Year's resolutions? Let's see a show of hands! Be honest, now!

Well, listen—don't feel so bad. February hasn't even begun yet, and already I've blown the Hamburger Diet! If you recall, in my last column I told you I was reading this book I got at the supermarket, which said that if you eat nine ounces of hamburger for lunch and dinner, then drink a quart of water afterwards, you could lose upwards of two pounds a day.

I was really psyched and filled my freezer with so much ground chuck I had to throw out hubby Rick's Kenny Rogers Roasters. (Don't tell him, he still hasn't noticed!) And I adhered to it religiously for the first three days. But I got so sick of eating hamburger that the sight of it turned my stomach!

And I was drinking so much water that my co-workers at the insurance company where I temp were giving me strange looks after visiting the bathroom for the fifth time in a single morning! That couldn't have looked too good! I mean, what if they thought I was taking drugs or something?

After blowing the Hamburger Diet, I felt really disgusted with myself. My old feelings of low self-esteem and lack of will power returned with a vengeance. Which, of course, made me want to eat! When I'm depressed, look out refrigerator, here I come! You don't want to be a chocolate cake when I'm around! I'm a yo-yo dieter—"Yo, yo, got any chocolate ice cream?" (I heard that on Def Comedy Jam!)

I've been on so many diets, you can just call me Oprah Winfrey! Oprah's lost a lot of weight, though, and she's managed to keep it off, and I have to give her a lot of credit. But I suppose I'd lose weight too if I had my own personal chef and fitness trainer. (Have you seen him on TV? What a hunk! He's got the tightest buns!)

Another person I really admire is Richard Simmons, because he really gives so much of himself. I was on his Deal-A-Meal plan about eight years ago, and I actually lost about 10 pounds. But leave it to Rick to louse things up. He taped over my motivational cassette with one of his Vince Gill albums! You'd think he could tell the difference between my prerecorded Deal-A-Meal tapes and blank cassettes! But noo! And, on top of that, instead of apologizing, he just muttered something about Richard Simmons being a fag, anyway.

But you know what really boils me? Here I am feeling all guilty about my weight, while hubby Rick never seems to worry about his at all. And he's no stringbean, let me tell you! The other night, Rick comes home with two extra-large deep-dish meat-lover's pizzas with extra cheese. It was like, "Thanks, Rick, you know I'm dieting!"

I limited myself to four slices, but apparently, dieting has had some effect on my metabolism, because when I finished, I was so stuffed I was ready to be rolled out of the room! Here was Rick, practically inhaling his pizza, watching Ultimate Fighting highlights on ESPN2 and unzipping his fly to let his big belly hang out! It's getting to the point that we can't even go out anymore, because he has the manners of a pig. (And I'm not talking Babe!)

One of my diet books says that inside every overweight person is a thin person dying to get out. But sometimes, I actually kind of like being overweight. There's nothing better than getting home from work, eating a hearty dinner and a yummy chocolate soufflé you've been thinking about all day, then curling up on the sofa with your People magazine in your hand, your NFL expansion team afghan on your lap, and your favorite soaps on the VCR. Then you get all sleepy and pleasant thoughts flood through your head, like dirty dancing with Patrick Swayze or driving in a Ferrari with George Clooney. Now, to me, that's the perfect evening, and it's all possible because of a few extra pounds!

Eat your heart out, Victoria's Secret models!


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