You better do something

You look in the mirror. You tell yourself you've got to do something. You already know the answer from ages ago in Miss Storch's 5^th grade class. The food pyramid – a balanced diet. Eat three meals a day, sampling from each of the food groups. When Dr. Phil says take smaller portions, he is making sense. Moderate exercise. It's all there. All that remains is for you to do something. But in winter it is too cold for exercise. Summer is too hot. As for the other two seasons, what's the use? The balanced diet and smaller portions can wait till later. There's all that food in the refrigerator. You can't let it go to waste. So you let it go to waist.

The problem is in the refrigerator. The problem sleeps next to you every night. The problem is in your lack of resolve. The problem has been identified. You better do something.

"If you don't buy ice cream," you tell her, "I won't eat it."

She buys it anyway. It lures you as you watch Survivor. The next ad, you head for the freezer. A small portion should be okay, you tell yourself. You deliberately take the littlest cup, then fill it to overflowing.

She calls from the couch, "Are you trying to kill yourself?"

I'll make up for this tomorrow, you tell yourself. You'll pay for this tomorrow, you know. But you push that thought to the far reaches of your consciousness as the show comes back on and you start shoveling in the black raspberry chocolate chunk, while on the tube starving contestants are eating bugs and worms in their never-ending quest for food.

The new extra large undershirts she bought you are kind of tight. She remarks on it. You tell her they were on sale for a reason. You get what you pay for. They skimped on the cotton. But the jeans that fit just right last week (up two sizes from the rest of your wardrobe) require a bit of a tug to get button into hole at the waist. Darn, they must have shrunk.

Is that pain in your chest on the surface or somewhere deeper? What is that tingling in your fingers, your toes? Is that something, or nothing? It's probably nothing.

"Could I be in denial?" you finally ask yourself, but the thought fades as you turn your focus to Subway and a five-dollar foot-long for lunch.