The way I see it, there is one main obstacle between me and complete domination through superior weight loss capably and lovingly supporting my fellow FFP-ers on this journey we’re about to embark upon.
That obstacle, friends, is my Inner Spoiled Brat (ISB).
I became familiar with my ISB right about when I first became familiar with dieting. The cold, hard truth is that there is simply no effective diet that doesn’t require some form of deprivation. You either can eat the foods you like, but in teaspoon-sized servings, or you can eat massive piles of food, as long as those foods are things like “lettuce” and “egg whites.”
Well, whenever deprivation levels get high enough, deep within me my ISB stirs. Her eyes flutter open. She sits up, yawns like a dainty, pink-tongued kitten, then fixes me with a steely gaze. “I’m sorry,” she says with deceptive sweetness, “did you just TELL ME NO?”
And then, sister, IT IS ON.
I would never order a medium cheese pizza and eat all the cheese off the top and throw the rest away, but my ISB certainly would. I would never eat frosting straight out of the container with a sticky crooked finger, sitting hunched over in my car like I just robbed a bank, but my ISB would. She is greedy, relentless, and a massive pain in the ass.
Early on, I realized it was simply BEST FOR EVERYONE if I didn’t bother her. I won’t even read diet plans in magazines, because the immediate response from my ISB is to drag me over to the freezer with a spoon, so I can shovel ice cream straight into my regretful mouth. She’s the reason I. Don’t. Diet.
Except whoops! Here I am, about to commit pre-meditated acts of dieting. This goes against everything I believe about what is healthy behavior for me. As long as I don’t engage my ISB, I’m a fairly sane and healthy person. Oatmeal for breakfast makes me happy! A salad for lunch? Sounds fab! Everything goes swimmingly, as long as I don’t wake her.
But if I want to lose ten pounds (and OH I DO), then I’m going to have to stray over into deprivation territory. And I’m going to have to face down my ISB.
I occurred to me the other day that my actual children would simply NOT get away with the sort of behavior my ISB does. I would sit them down and discuss the issues with them and ask them about how they were feeling and generally smother them with words until they cleaned up their acts out of sheer self-preservation (parenting by word volume – it can be particularly effective with boys who JUST WANT YOU TO STOP TALKY TALKING WITH ALL THE WORDS). And perhaps I should deal with my ISB the same way. Perhaps I should take her to a therapist and tease out the REASONS behind her actions. I could comfort her and help her learn a new, healthy way.
There are two problems with this: 1) I have recently realized that if I wait to be in perfect mental health before I attempt to accomplish anything I will NEVER get anything done and 2) yawn.
Instead, I’ve decided that this is the perfect forum to dominate my ISB. Because what does a childish, selfish human being understand? That’s right, obnoxious manipulative behavior. So what I plan to do is to retaliate with my Inner Middle School Girl (IMSG). When my ISB demands a slab of chocolate, I shall pat her on her tiara-ed head and say, “Oh, of course you can! Because it’s PERFECTLY FINE if everyone else at FFP loses weight this week and you don’t! And I’m absolutely SURE that Mir and Joss and Gray and Lydia won’t laugh at you. Would you like some chips with that?”
Is it mature? Is it healthy? Is it admirable?
Dear me, no.
Will it work?
I think it might.