Lori Clinch

Lori Clinch is from North Platte. She is the mother of four sons. Her email address is loriclinch2010@gmail.com.

Now that fall is in full swing, it’s time to ponder a few things.

For starters, the abundance of leaves lurking about could use some tending to. The sun is peering into windows at an angle that highlights the smears, closets need cleaned, rugs need beating and there’s no time like the present to do something about the kitchen cupboards.

While we’re pondering things that need to be shaped up and thinned down, I decided that it was truly a good time to have a talk with me about my weight loss plan.

It’s not that I don’t strive to be a size 6 year-round. It’s just that my body is having “none of that!” In fact, I started out with a great weight reduction system back in June that included, but wasn’t limited to, cutting out the carbs as well as any form of sugar.

I cruised through the summer with nary a cookie, exhibited admirable restraint when it came to the Fourth of July celebrations and stood my ground when it came to the family vacation.

“Did it work?” you might ask. Am I slim and fit and ready to don last year’s fall lineup with room to grow? Well, that’s going to be a big fat “no.”

In fact once the weather began to turn, I rummaged the closet and the only jeans that fit were the pudgy, waist-high “mom jeans” with 6-inch pockets.

Oh, how I shudder to think.

Now that I’ve cruised my way through my early 50s, my body has really grabbed onto excess weight and has held it firm.

None of my old weight-loss tricks work. Walking a steep hill for 30 minutes every morning has done nothing. Drinking an extra vat of water hasn’t made a dent into the old cellulite, and although “juicing” had great reviews on the internet, there was no amount of willpower that would inspire me to gag down raw spinach and garden greens in liquid form.

I had no choice but to seek the help of friends.

“I stopped eating all altogether,” my good buddy Eunice said, “and now I’m down 20 pounds.”

That would have been an excellent piece of advice if I didn’t need energy to walk across the floor.

I tried protein bars, slim-down shakes and when desperate times called for desperate measures, I opted for low-calorie soups.

Yet, it would seem that my fat cells saw deprivation coming and, being the stubborn cells that they are, they made it evident that they were going nowhere soon.

Last Wednesday I called my friend Peggy and got some tips on her “small meal diet.” Turns out that if a person skips regular meals and simply has 10 100-calorie snacks throughout the day, the weight will just fall off by the bucket load — according to Peggy, that is.

Sadly enough, she offered no tips regarding life-sustaining nutrition or thoughts on how to actually make it past lunch. So I decided to have my last 300 calories as an afternoon snack and had cornered the market on failure by 3 p.m.

Thursday was low calorie diet day and although my sister swore by its results, I didn’t lose a single pound. On Friday, I had made friends with my dumbbells, dug out my ankle weights and added standing sit-ups to my dishwashing routine.

Still, as Saturday approached, I found myself chubby, cranky and short of breath when I polished my toenails.

“What on earth are you doing?” my husband asked me on Sunday after I kicked the bathroom scale into the corner and called it a “dirty so-and-so.”

“Well,” I responded with frustration, “would it kill this thing to show me small weight loss?”

“How about your meal-replacement-bar plan?” he suggested as he used the bathroom door as a shield. “Didn’t you lose 10 pounds on that one a few years back?”

I reflected on that moment in time. I clearly remembered tipping the scales; vowing to go to the extremes and doing whatever it took to rid myself of the unwanted weight.

I recalled cranky moments, flailing limbs and the ever-loving gnashing of teeth. Worse yet, I remembered rummaging the closet and finding my fat jeans with the 6-inch pockets.

I’m wearing them as I write. They’re waist high, ugly and as flattering as a gunnysack. But they fit and I’m disgusted with the whole thing.

Tomorrow I’m going to dig out the juicer and survive on healthy and low calorie if it kills me. I’m going in with relentless determination.

I just hope that I don’t corner the market on failure before noon.

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