It happened again.
Always, always, when I’m telling someone about our newest diet endeavors or the secret that lost us a bajillion pounds, I look down and realize I have a plate of ridiculously unhealthy food in my hand.
A heaping one.
Years ago, Chris lost 70 lbs and I lost a bunch too. Ever after, we kind of got on the merry-go-round of calorie counting and then falling off the wagon. And our jeans slowly got tighter and tighter.
But, since we KNEW the secret to weight loss, even if we weren’t utilizing it, we could totally share our tips with others.
While we ate cake.
The problem is, I love pitch-in dinners (or pretty much any social event where my friends make their tastiest dishes). We have a lot of them at Destiny Church and our people are really, really good cooks. There’s this mac-n-cheese that’s probably going to be in heaven…
So it doesn’t matter what “diet” plan I’m on, when a pitch-in comes around, all bets are off.
Most recently, it was a lingerie party that did me in. Just a bunch of girls, gift bags filled with lacy underwear and plates full of delicious treats.
I had been eating great for like 3 weeks straight. So I was totally justified in having a splurge.
But somehow, we got talking about gardens and then vegetables and then “eating healthy.” And I was sharing about how we’d been doing so great.
And I looked down at my plate: Mint-chocolate cake balls, chips and queso, cream cheese veggie pizza.
So then I felt like I had to EXPLAIN. And the explaining is just awkward. Kind of a “the lady doth protest too much,” feeling. Like no matter what I say, everyone is convinced I live off of Twinkies at that point.
And that’s OK if they think that, except I don’t want to lead other people astray. I’m not here to justify your bad eating, you know?!
I need a T-shirt for pitch-in dinners, with a disclaimer:
**The food on this person’s plate is not recommended for a healthy lifestyle. Do as she says, not as she does.