Still the same

I think I'm getting a little depressed.  The weight loss is stalled, has been stalled for months and here it is...I have to be satisfied or diet.

I can't get into the diet mindset.  I don't know why.  I drift through gray days, feeling a bit desperate.

I eat what I eat.  Not a lot and not overtly bad stuff, but comfort food such as chicken and corn bread dressing with peas on the side.  Lots of carbs.  Then the next day I make a ratatouille with cheese for dinner and feel better, but I know I haven't done enough.  I haven't dieted.  I didn't eat chicken breast and salad or steak and green beans...because I didn't want it.  I've slipped into the familiar robes of soft, slippery comfort.   Food has become the enemy again.

I'm a bad person because I can't diet. I don't want to diet--I hate it, the constant alertness and monitoring, the privation and denial of what you really want to eat.  Why eat stuff you don't want?  My mother says this is my problem, that I refuse to eat nasty food.  "Food is simply nutrients for the body--you should eat what's good for you, not what tastes good."  Not what feels good either.

I grew up with broiled chicken, tuna, uninspired salads and weight watcher's food.  Nasty food. Remember when they sold frozen fish in those rectagular packages, like the once ubiquitous frozen vegetable squares?  There was never carbs in the house, no bread and god forbid, no cereal.  No mashed potatoes, no macaroni, no sweets, ever.  Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were a novelty, something eaten away from home.  Home was dry frozen white fleshed fish, vegetable boxes of string beans and broccoli, always broccoli, along with chicken.

So I know what to do.

 I have to diet to get what I want--an attractive, healthy body.  No way around it.  My birthday is this week.  I'm getting old and before I die, I want to have it.  So, somehow, I have to do it.  Everything depends on my dieting.  Do I want success?  Do I want a life?  Diet, diet, diet.  And exercise, of course.  But one can exercise oneself silly without losing weight (I know).  Dieting is the key.  Food is my enemy while being the only friend.

I think this over and over and the days pass by with no diet.

Misery of the usual kind.  The kind I'm lifetime familiar with, a despised companion.  My DS was half a success, but half a failure.  I'm halfway to the goal I really want, and don't know if I can make it the rest of the way.

Why tell me the obvious?  I know, I'm worthless because I can't diet.  Sigh.