Pass the bacon, please.

I'm actually passing ON the bacon now. And the chocolate. And cheese. And red meat. And potatoes. And the pasta. And sugar in any form. And, for the most part, anything that tastes even remotely decadent.

The Captain and I are on a diet.

I loathe dieting, proven by the girth of my thighs. It's just that I truly enjoy food. High quality, unprocessed, sophisticated (something with truffles as opposed to a bag of Ruffles), delectable food. We love to try new creations, and The Captain has been dosed a generous amount of creativity in the kitchen. I also do not even remotely enjoy physical exercise. I'd much rather read a book or article and exercise my brain over doing a 30 minute cycle in the elliptical, and only the assurance of a good book on my Kindle will lure me anywhere close to a cardio machine. I also quite enjoy the presence of my children, and can almost always reason myself out of a gym visit because I'd just rather listen to them laugh or scrap or play in the bathtub than go walk on the stupid treadmill, which has to be the human equivalent to a hamster ball anyway. We should just exercise as a family, you say? Sounds great, but it's January and darkness descends around the same time my van pulls in the garage, and even if we get home early it is too cold for the baby. (And we have tried that before, resulting in tears from Pearl because she is in her own time zone and cannot keep up with the rest of us...nor does she approve of riding in a stroller.) Keep the solutions coming. I could do this all day.

Obviously, a fattie this conundrum (loving food, hating exercise) makes. And I'm beyond done with that. I've also dieted before, and if I were successful then we wouldn't be in this predicament now.

The Captain isn't a fattie...he just has sticky blood. Genetics have been bad to him, and his numbers (one DL too high, one DL too low, triglycerides through the roof) have always been bad...even when right after he ran a marathon and was in the very best shape of his life.

As neither of us wants to orphan our children anytime soon, we are dieting. The Captain has a goal, I kind of do and kind of don't. Goal: lose weight. Any weight. So, check. Mission accomplished. Nongoal: I will have to do this the rest of my life if I'm going to keep this issue under control. There's no end in sight. {sigh} But at least there will be cheat days now and again, so there's that.

It's going well so far. We've both lost around 10, and are adjusting to the new way of life. Of course, I'll have to lose about 20 more before it is even noticeable, but 10 is a good start.

In related news: I dreamed about eating a Hershey bar. It was so vivid that I woke up feeling guilty for cheating. I'm sure this has nothing to do with the fact that there is a King-sized Hershey bar that I can hear audibly speaking to me in the teachers' lounge vending machine as I'm warming up my ground turkey for a taco salad.

*Side note: salubrity means conducive or favorable to health or well-being. It felt like a much more exciting tag than just "health." I might bore you to tears with my drivel, but at least you can walk away from this blog with a new vocabulary word.
Here's to being salubrious, people.