Summer arrives like a bang from a starter pistol. One day it's turtlenecks and fleece and the next the lightest cottons constrict and oppress. When my friends and I go to lunch we seek outdoor tables, just because we can and it feels so Parisian. Leg shaving stops being optional and out comes the self-tanner. However, with less coverage the product of a long winter's indulgence is on full display. This new season calls for re-birth and the sleek, chic woman I truly am cries to come forth like Venus on the half-shell and be seen and admired. I'm on fire. Calories get counted and every morsel recorded. This very day, for example, I fixed what, from the beginning of time has been referred to on menus as the "Dieter's Plate", a lean, bun-free hamburger patty, sliced tomato and a scoop of cottage cheese. Although it leaves me with only 300 calories until bedtime, I'm good, I know I can make it. There will be veggies tomorrow and if we get a cold snap, the famous Cabbage Soup with a chaser of Bean-o. Then, cue the music because the annual dance begins in mid-June with my birthday. The festive, gaily-decorated cake is a death knell to discipline. One slice and I'm back to my old self, motivation and good intentions shelved until next year.
If you've ever hoped to re-invent yourself but found temptation too great, writing about it in a journal can ease the misery. The good journal never judges, and unlike your conscience, loves tales of hearty meals, snacks and luscious desserts. Falling off the wagon is forgiven and the journal will hold your hand getting back on.
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