Six weeks ago, I gave up eating chocolate. Now, that’s sort of like saying “six weeks ago I quit breathing.” I expected the same results. An avowed dark chocolate lover since age 5, I don’t remember a time of more than a week when I didn’t have chocolate. I ate some almost every day. Our relationship was satisfying.
Our relationship was also calorie-rich. So, almost on a whim, I didn’t buy any more replacement chocolate, and when it ran out, I thought, “Let’s see how long I last.” I thought it would be about 2 hours. One day stretched into two, and then into a week.
A wonderful idea crept into my brain. If I stopped eating chocolate, I’d lose weight. After all, if you stop eating 300 calories a day, and a pound contains 3,500 calories, so in about 10 days, I should lose a pound. And in a month, three. What a great idea! I was already walking briskly every morning, the combination would have me slimmed down in no time. Fueled with enthusiasm, I gave up cookies, too. The only thing I substituted for cookies and chocolate was sugar-free gum.
In six weeks I have not lost an ounce. I can’t explain it. I can’t understand it. It seems needlessly cruel to put myself though this without the reward. And yet, secretly, I know, if I so much as eat one piece of chocolate, I’ll start gaining weight.
Some of my friends tried to tell me that I was substituting muscle for fat, but I don’t believe it. I was already walking, had been for months, so there is no muscle development. It’s some sort of cruel joke on those of us who are generously proportioned.
But I still have hope. Maybe, one day, I’ll be walking down the street, and all the fat will jump off all at once. Suddenly, my pants will be way too big. It’s just waiting for the right moment to disappear. Sure. That’s it.
–Quinn McDonald owns QuinnCreative and offers training in business communications, seminars in journal writing, and life- and creativity coaching. (c) 2007. All rights reserved.