Yes I did, I went on another Diet! It has been exactly one year that I stopped dieting/weighing/tracking.
A year ago I threw out 4 years of calendar sheets of. my obsessive weight charting. It was a year ago that I decided that at 68, I could finally stop dieting.
And So I did.
It was really nice. I ate without fear and without guilt. I had the same thing for breakfast every day. Fried toast, I mean a little butter is good for your skin right? (whole wheat bread of course) and a poached egg, fresh orange juice and tea with real sugar. You do know that Weight Watchers ordained sugar OK. That was 50 years of me putting saccharine on everything I consumed. Also smuggling it into Spain, and stealing it from various hotels and Starbucks around the world. Then WW declared sugar legal. Wow! Or does that just deserve a big Fuck!
I stopped cooking. I stopped shopping for food, I kept hot shoes in my empty refrigerator . I decided going out for lunch and having the same salad everyday was a good idea. Diner was a problem; I just could not figure that one out. I would have had a pizza delivered every night but no one can find my house, not even Google maps. Eventually I would just stuff my self with whatever was around, dates worked really well. The breaking point was when I ate couscous for 5 nights in a row, and my stomach became hard enough to become the foundation of a new Trump Tower. (get it ?)
My Moroccan hairdresser, Ameris and his wonderful wife, Fatima, occasionally invite me over for lunch. You have no idea how delicious homemade couscous is, especially when the grains come directly from Morocco.
The problem is when I leave, Fatima always loads me up with extra, possibly 5 kilos extra to take home…. This time I did not freeze it but ate it every night. Why? Because I am a lazy bad girl. If you are contemplating a new way of suicide, something with no pain and easy, eat couscous for 5 days in a row. It’s a killer.
Soon after I saw Daniele, he owns my local discount decorating shop where I buy my wired garden chickens, mostly to keep Brunehilde company. Not looking very well, (very thin), I questioned him cautiously, hoping he was not ill. He said no, he was not ill but had just lost 20 kilos. “Really?” I said. And then the urban legend began, he knew this woman in the village that was really really fat. She had lost all this weight, and her son who was also really really fat had lost even more weight. He was talking about 50 to 80 kilos of lost fat. Daniele called their doctor and also started loosing weight. My entire village is losing weight rapidly.
I am listening to this….. Me, the post graduate of dieters, in complete fascination. I take the info, how could I resist? I had just heard the best diet infocommercial ever, live. I also felt like a person in prison for 50 years that is let out and is completely lost, and after a year, just wants to go back.
Maria is my new best friend. She and I are regressing into teenage times and having a blast. Every week I think of something new for us to do. She is by far one of the most interesting women I ever met. When she was young, she was a model/actress and did I tell you she was Blonde, Tall and Swedish!. I think if we actually had met when we were teenagers, we would have never been friends. Who wants to be friends with a gorgeous Swedish model/actress with long blonde hair? Not a chubby Jewish girl from Massachusetts with frizzed out hair. This was way before Frizz Ease was invented or even layered cuts. And way before my 7 liposuction operations done by Dr. Ohana in Paris.
Now Maria, still stunning, is an international interpreter, going everywhere, interpreting the most incredible corporate meetings into Swedish and in her spare time is a celebrity thriller writer, along with her amazing daughter Elin Barnes, also a thriller writer. So it is like having a race driver for a mother and the daughter also becomes a race driver… doesn’t happen a lot.
So who wouldn’t want to be friends with a woman like this? Especially when you live in a foreign country and in a town, which the number of people speaking English is probably less than 12.
Since my last best friend was Regine, 25 years ago, famous for having an affair with my then shit head husband, I have not had a best friend in Spain.
I Whatsapp Maria, as no one talks here in Europe, and wrote “this week we are going to a nutritionist and we are going to start a diet and loose a lot of weight.” So that’s exactly what we did.
I have as of this writing, 9 perfect days under my belt, except for the frozen cocktail in the above photo and a small apple desert with cream sauce. I am happy to report that the inside stud on my Zara jeans is no longer cutting into my hip and creating a bleeding blister. I love the diet, I am shopping, cooking and eating fish, fresh vegetables and the best tomatoes ever. I have a purpose in my life again. I am on a diet!
Oh by the way, I am only friends with women who buy my shoes and this is Maria’s favorite shoe. And for her next big birthday we are getting her “boyfriend” to buy her the BeLeave handbag, filled with a new Ipad and a pair of Bulgari gold eyeglass frames. “Too Much is not Enough”, also for my best friends.