Why Your Last Diet Failed You (Excerpts)

Darn it all. I did it again. And to be honest, I don't have any rational or logical explanation for it. The diet was going well. I started happily on Monday, kept it up Tuesday, still felt great on Wednesday, sailed through Thursday, and then last night we had pizza. Ahhh...pizza! Food of the gods. What mere mortal can exhibit any form of resistance in its powerful presence? The warm crispy crust, the tangy tomato sauce, the hot gooey cheese, and best of all, the sweating pepperoni. Yum. Who can resist? Not I, for one--a fact which has become excruciatingly obvious over the years.

So goes another five days of sacrificing down the drain. (Or down the esophagus, I should say.) And do you know what? I don't care. A week of denial is more than worth the five minutes of sweating pepperoni. At least that's what I tell myself during the heat of pizza passion. It's not until the next morning--yes, the proverbial "morning after"--that regret sets in. And guess what? Suddenly I do care. Those five minutes were not worth an entire week of sacrifice. But do you think that matters? Have I ever learned anything from it? Will the following Monday finally be my very last Day One?

If I know anything about myself, the answers to these three questions are no, no, and no.

Anyway, all philosophical questions aside, it's now Saturday morning and time to step on the scale again. Sure, I had one or two (or six) slices of pizza, but after losing three pounds over the previous week, it can't put that big a dent in the overall program, can it?

Ha! If you believe that then you are obviously not acquainted with The Physical Laws of Dieting. The first law states, "Weight returns at five times the velocity at which it was lost." The second law states, "Any dietary straying, no matter how seemingly insignificant, causes instantaneous Diet Reversal."

As it stands, I am very well acquainted with these laws (having made them up myself). And so it is this very knowledge that grants me foresight: I know exactly what will happen after I walk into the bathroom and step on that scale. These Laws cannot be broken. They cannot be bent. I am doomed. Yet I try to convince myself that maybe just this once I'll avoid the unavoidable. My mind reels, searching for facts and theories that might help me avert my impending doom. Then it hits me. "Traditional calorie theory!" my mind exclaims. "Yes, that will help me. I remember hearing something about how it takes an extra 3,500 calories to gain a pound." This is good. This is very good. I quickly begin doing some mental math. "Let's see, in order for me to gain back the three pounds I lost this week that implies I would have had to take in 10,500 extra calories last night. There's no way I ate that much pizza. No way."

Still, there's no sense taking any unnecessary chances. I head to the bathroom, pee, strip down, and jettison all unnecessary ballast, right down to my wedding ring. (Hey, every gram counts.) Here we go...

Unbelievable. I gained three pounds overnight. The Laws of Dieting win...again. I believe that brings the lifetime tally to Laws: 972, me: 0.

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