Mrs. Doud’s words still ring in my ears, words I didn’t want to hear. She said: “You’ve been eating too much candy.”
Unfortunately, she’s right. I’ve been putting on a little weight lately, after having lost seven pounds in seven days. The weight loss was due to adhering to the Virgin Diet. No, we are not virgins. The name of the diet comes from the dietitian who came up with it, one J.J. Virgin, who writes books and goes around lecturing about how one should drop seven things from one’s diet, and one will instantly become seven years younger and drop seven pounds. (Actually, the part about becoming seven years younger wasn’t true. We were supposed to feel seven years younger, but I can’t remember how I felt seven days ago, let alone seven years ago.)
We saw a program about this on public television, and of course, we figured that if it was on public television it must be true.
The seven foods we were supposed to give up included almost everything I like to eat. We were supposed to substitute foods that taste like cardboard and chalk.
The diet worked. At the end of seven days, I was seven pounds lighter and my pants were loose. I decided to celebrate by having a cookie, which as you might imagine was on the don’t-eat list. So was candy.
That was when the cheating began. Cream went back into my coffee, the occasional hamburger patty went back into my lunch, and so on. Finally, the last straw in diet cheating: Candy. I love candy, especially the chocolate variety.
Every time I read a story that says chocolate is good for you, I cut it out and put it on the refrigerator.
And suddenly, three pounds appeared. I swear I didn’t eat three pounds of chocolate, but there the proof was, bulging over my belt.
Truth is a hard thing to face. I think I’m going to have a Hershey or two to keep from becoming depressed.