My sister and I used to go to McDonald’s and indulge in supersized orders of fries. We would occasionally buy a large bag of Starburst candies to split in one sitting while watching a marathon of our favorite TV show.
And then there’s my friend Beth Ann. She and I also gave into those unhealthy cravings and went to McDonald’s, our oversized purses in tow, to grab one cheeseburger combo each to sneak in as our “movie snack.”
Had my parents known, they probably would have been very upset with us. My family hardly ever ordered in or went out to eat. We ate grilled chicken breast, broccoli, mashed potatoes, brown rice, corn and a whole slew of other foods that did not include greasy cheeseburgers and deep-fried potatoes. At least, not usually.
These days, my sister is a fit, beautiful woman and a master at running and yoga. Where did our genetics go wrong? The truth is, she works hard. Very hard. No more supersized fries. No more bags of Starburst candies.
And what about me? Right now, I have a bag of conversation heart candies sitting on my desk. That’s one of my rules — keep it out of sight! But I’m breaking that rule and paying for it. I’ve eaten at least half that bag by myself. Granted, I’ve had it for about a week, but my metabolism is not what it used to be. And it’s never even been very good.
In the fall, I was exercising about five times a week, trying to balance my meals and drinking a lot of water. I don’t know whether it was the holidays or just habit, but I’m now working out only once a week and being a lot more lenient with my food choices.
No need to do the math here. There’s a reason I’m not as fit as my sister. I’m not trying to be.
I won’t see results until I start trying again, and neither will you.