The Sad Truth

Here's the deal:

In 2005, I was skinny. Not that I'm obese now, but really, I was quite skinny, and I bought a pair of the cutest jeans EVER. I wore them until I got fat(ter), they became too tight, but I held onto them because I love them. They are, as stated, super-duper cute.

My goal this year has been to fit back into Cute Jeans. Hence the exercising. Seriously, I've been working out six days a week for almost two months now, and the changes I've noticed in my physique are both exciting and promising.

But.

Because I've been so hard core about working out -- a sweat-dripping regimen of at least thirty minutes a day is nothing to sneeze at -- subconsciously, I guess, I kind of think I can eat anything I want.

And here is the sad truth: That is not so.

It's not like I'm resigning myself to a life of salads. What I mean is, when our food writer walks up to me with a greasy, fatty pepperoni pizza in hand and says, "Hey, Amber, you want a slice of this?" and I have already eaten lunch and am not really hungry but I do kind of want a slice, I can't just take the pizza. Especially when I already had (healthy) pizza the night before. And especially when this is followed by a couple of days of eating deep-fried yumminess that has no place in my current diet. On a similar note, when I go to visit family, I can't just stuff my face with all the delicious goodness that abounds on those visits. I don't need to eat fried chicken and mashed potatoes and pie. I just don't. That is a sad truth to me.

I like food. I love food. Food is my friend. Food keeps me alive and gives me energy. But sometimes I have to say no to food. Even though I'm working out. Because what happens is, I think that I burn off enough calories to compensate for the food -- which is true. But I will never fit into Cute Jeans again if I don't start saying no, and saving the stuff that's really bad for me that I love for special occasions.

Plus, I'm really developing some serious ab muscles like I've never had before, and I kinda want to see what they look like under the flab that's taken up residence around my midsection since the Dawn of Time (aka puberty).