My husband and I are on a mission to ditch some pounds so we planned on sticking to a strictly salad or soup menu for dinner which means no more rice for me. Bummer! Monday was Teriyaki Chicken Salad and yesterday was Split Pea Soup with sautéed onions from scratch with slow cooked Carnita, lightly fried then baked-lean pork stays moist this way. Today happens to be leftover day so at least, it’s more of a laid back day for me.
I do not like dieting as I have to cook separately for my husband and I and the kids and that equals double the pots and pans and there’s no way of ever escaping the never ending dishes! Sure there’s the dishwasher but it’s much quicker when I wash them. But what am I complaining about? Bear with me though as washing dishes really is my sole domestic complaint.
I don’t remember ever learning who first coined the term diet and by this, I mean the regimen, but it obviously has the word “die” in it. It may as well be some kind of a “die to self” kinda thing or maybe “die trying” to lose weight because most of the time, it feels that way and it takes complete dedication to see actual results.
Denying oneself is so hard. It’s easy to sin. It doesn’t take any effort. We just do it. It’s the same with dieting. It’s easy to eat bad and it takes double the effort to eat healthy. The body craves what’s sweet to the taste but too much of it leads to a gradual but sure consequence- disease, in my case, diabetes. My father passed away from complications of diabetes and during both my pregnancies I was a gestational diabetic so if I don’t watch it, I’m genetically predisposed to have it.
Do I fear death? Nope. I do have a family who will grieve should I leave them behind, whom I will miss VERY much. I’d hate to die from something that could be preventable. That would mean carelessness on my part. Even though my flesh is kicking and screaming, I must stay the course.