The word for today, class, is "Diet" ...

Wow, what a word. Diet. It's one of those words with a variety of definitions and uses. It's a noun (the sum of a person's food), it's a verb (to diet), it's an adjective (diet food), and it's a formal, deliberative assembly (e.g. The Imperial Diet - who were a group of princes of the Holy Roman Empire who met until 1806 ... the original Weight Watchers Meetings, apparently) ... but for today's lesson I'm going to be using it in it's more colloquial and contemporary version which is often accompanied by the phrase "holy-mother-of-God-why-me".

Oh yeah - I'm in Day Three of what I am calling ... The Last Diet.

First, let's look at the origin of the word "Diet". The prefix of the word - "Di" - means death, muerto, toes up. I think that's a concept that needs no further discussion. Then we have the suffix of the word - "et" - which means small, tiny, measurable but lacking in size.

From this scholarly approach one can only discern that the origin of the word "Diet" is "small death". From a personal viewpoint I would like the definition to include the concept of repetition, since diets traditionally cover a span of time thereby creating a series of small deaths, followed by grinding disappointments and capped off by bone-crushing anxiety and unfathomable angst ... but, hey, maybe that's just me injecting my own personal experience ...

So why have I waited until Day Three to announce to the world that I am on a diet? The Wednesday Syndrome. Ever heard of it? It's the phenomenon known by all overweight people whereby a new diet often lasts only until the third day (which is always a Wednesday, because diets always start on a Monday .... it's a law). Hence The Wednesday Syndrome defines the jumping off day, the "you guys go ahead without me" admission that overtakes the best of intentions with the reality that the cure is seen as worse than the problem. It's a fact ... a fact, I tell you ... that on the first Wednesday in January, the use of the phrase "big boned" goes up 450%. If you don't believe me, go to http://www.heavysigh.handmethatdonut.fat/ and check it out.

Have I ever dieted successfully before? When anyone asks that question, it shows they don't understand the world of the obese. Trust me - if you ever want to know anything about dieting, ask a fat guy. Every fatty like me has at least three stories to tell about how much weight they've lost some time in their lives, and how this diet and that diet works, or doesn't work. I, personally, am a storehouse of dietary knowledge ... and I've got the gut to prove it.

But what normal weight people (all 17 of you left in this country) fail to comprehend is the depth of the convoluted relationship obese people have with food, and it is that relationship, not lack of knowledge, that drives the train to fattyville. If reading a book, watching a video or listening to Oprah really caused weight loss, I, and many of my "big boned" friends would all be walking around without our shirts hoping someone would take a picture. And really, does it take a math major to understand "fruits, vegetables, exercise and stop eating with a shovel"?

So what's different for me this time? Well, there are a couple of differences this time. The first difference is, this time I have decided to take the most dangerous step I can take - I've decided to include the whole world in my journey. Believe me, I have a long history of failure in this dieting thing, and telling the world means I might just be jumping out of my foxhole, yelling "You can count on me, boys!", and then ducking into a Dairy Queen at 9:00 pm for a Blizzard and a cheeseburger. Confucius say "An erected penis has no conscience" (to which Tiger Woods replied, "True that"), but right next store to that timeless truth stands the equal challenge of an obese persons phrase, "Give me a bite of that or I'll rip your arm off and eat that, too." Trust me, it's hard to keep your dieting thoughts together if your head actually explodes while looking at a chocolate, glazed donut. So for a previously failed fatty, announcing a diet can feel like - does feel like - building your own "toss-a-pie" game with my head as the target sticking through the hole in the plywood. Interesting that analogy hinges on being ridiculed through the use of baked goods ... sigh ...

But in a major league way, the second thing that is different this time is in a little bundle of joy we like to call Lily. She's my new granddaughter - soon to be 9 months old - and she's reminded me that I'd like to make sure she knew that Grandpa tried his very best to stick around to see her grow up. Grandpa's not a quitter, Lily. When Grandpa had a choice between overeating or trying to make it to dance at your wedding, Grandpa chose you, honey. Whenever Grandpa is going to be called to shuffle off this mortal coil isn't solely Grandpa's choice ... but for the role I have to play in it, I am going to do what I can to travel as far into the future with you as possible - and with the rest of my family and friends, too. The greatest threat to that future I know of right now is being overweight, so that has to change. Simple as that. Change my diet, change my relationship to food, live long and prosper. That's my plan.

So, Day Three - take your best shot, you scurvy dog. You have NO idea who you're messing with ...

Blessings,
Bill