Skip The Stomach, Go Straight For The Heart by Glenn ArnoldDiet. A four letter word that has many of us cringing at just seeing or hearing it. Dieting takes willpower and, sometimes, it is a boost to that willpower to know one is not alone on the quest to lose a few pounds here and there. Glenn shares in this story about how a couple can become closer while dieting together. Is this truly possible? In my thirty-five years, I've had a relationship or ten and I also have a marriage in my back pocket. Of course, all of this isn't nearly enough to allow me to put “Relationship Expert” on my love résumé. As with most things in life, I'm continually learning new techniques, methods, and nuances in the vast world of love. However, after years and years of seeking, I think I've actually found the answer to one question that's been plaguing civilization for quite a long time. It's The Eternal Question: How do you keep the flame burning in a relationship? Well, the answer is very simple: Starve yourself. My future wife and I are on a diet. And it's killing us. But at least we're rekindling our love before we die. After spending most of the winter months sitting on the sofa watching "Everybody Loves Raymond" reruns, Beth and I began to notice that we both were acquiring slightly bulbous stomachs. Eating was definitely a joy for each of us, but now we were starting to look like straws that had swallowed bowling balls. To be honest (and diplomatic), Beth looks as fantastic as she ever has, but I've learned if a girl says she's fat, vigorously disagree with her and then secretly plot to get her on a diet. In light of our not-so-little problem, we decided to trade in our cheeseburgers for stir-fry, our steaks for bag-o-salad, and our doughnuts for fat-free veggie dip. I even made a vow to cut out the Coronas (okay, so it's only a small switch to Corona Light). We began what we called “The Pot Watch” (as in “pot belly”, not “Mmm, what's boiling in that stew pot?”). Our goal is a modest one: we each want to lose fifteen pounds. And we're not partaking in some exotic diet such as eating only brown-and-serve biscuits and drinking Country Time Lemonade. We're eating healthy, eating smart, and eating light. In other words, we're having nutritious, low-calorie, and small-portioned water droplets. We began our dieting venture with a trip to the grocery store, where we busily filled our cart with stalks of broccoli, fresh peaches and fish, and enough carrot sticks to put several optometrist out of business. Our bi-monthly shopping trips used to turn into arguments between Beth and I over what we were loading into our cart (she once got a little bent out of shape when I referred to her skim milk as “milk-water” and then proceeded to make loud retching sounds right there in the dairy case), but this time was different. We were in harmony as we both reached for the same tub of cottage cheese and passed by the Krispy Kreme display without a backwards glance. Surprisingly, all of this lo-cal and less taste (excuse me, less filling) food seemed to cost quite a bit more. I suppose the theory is that if the manufacturer has to take out the fat, they have to bring in a new million-dollar fat-taker-outer machine and that cost has to be absorbed somewhere. And since the majority of weight-conscious individuals are delirious and dizzy from a lack of proper food, they're more than willing to fork over thirty bucks for a box of fat-free wheat spaghetti. Once we arrived back home, we had so many different options for dinner that we were almost giddy (then again, maybe the giddiness came from skipping lunch). Beth broke out the Saltines, peapods, and iceberg lettuce with a low-fat vinaigrette, while I opted for skinless boiled chicken, raw spinach leaves, and a mound of asparagus. We were so proud of ourselves that we decided to binge and have red grapes and blueberries for dessert. And we couldn't stop smiling at each other. After tallying up our calorie count, we found that at our current rate of eating, we wouldn't live past the end of the week. We were definitely on our way. The first sign of trouble, however, came the next morning. After consuming such large quantities of dark vegetables and fruit the night before, my usual 9 a.m. trip to the small room at the end of the hall resulted in---how shall I say?--a darker than normal deposit at the ol' Bowel Bank. Any vitamins and minerals from the previous night's dinner were about to be flushed. I felt faint. I thought maybe if I had a rice cake I'd feel better. A rice cake topped with whipped cream, chocolate sauce and several 5th Avenue bars. But I resisted. I knew once we were able to get over our initial hunger pains, occasional urges, and constant hallucinations, we'd be okay. Besides, we were in this together. Our dietary experience was bringing us closer together; we were fighting side by side on the battlefield of bloatation. Beth and I were our own little “Band of Brothers.” Or more like “Bland of Brothers.” Every night when she came home from work, she'd sweetly ask me if I “was a good boy today.” Usually, she'd have to hold my head up and feed me a couple of crackers before I came around, but I always responded with a faint smile and slight stomach gurgling. We were lovebirds. Hungry, sick, and gaunt lovebirds, but lovebirds nonetheless. Finally, today--on our 23rd day of culinary incarceration--we had our highly anticipated daily weigh-in. We were pretty excited because we knew we were both very close to our goal; we actually fasted yesterday. One by one, we struggled onto the scale. And one by one, Beth and I both reached our goal; we tipped the scales exactly fifteen pounds lighter than when we started. After faint cheering and high-fiving with skeletal hands, we decided to celebrate. We ordered a pepperoni pizza and downed a 12-pack of Heineken. And then we promptly threw up. But we threw up together. About This Story's Author:Despite his friends thinking he was crazy, Glenn Arnold quit his lucrative job as a drugstore manager to dive blindly into the world of freelance writing. Glenn has written for Intermission, Go Inside Magazine, and currently is a contributing editor for Suite101.com. His completely unprofessional website is Way Out In Left. Humor Is Relative's Top 12 Popular Stories:
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The second day of a diet is easier than the first. By the second day you're off of it.
Never eat more than you can lift.
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I'm on a diet as my skin doesn't fit me anymore.
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