Some of you, at least those that live in in Phoenix area, may have noticed that I have, in the months since my last post herein, lost some weight. While I wish it was because I tried, it is, weight loss that is, the end product of the roller coaster ride that is my life, our lives. It’s sorta like when I projectile vomited after getting off the Witches Wheel; it just happened.
So, on occasion, when I meet someone who notices the weight loss, but who does not know the sanctum of my life events, they ask:
“How you doing it?”
To which I might reply: “Doing what?”
And, without fail, they come back with the same thing:
“How’d you lose the weight, man? I been trying for years. I guess I just like food too much. I just don’t have the will power, bro. I don’t always want to eat, I just do, without even thinking. I love the taste of food. The texture and mouth feel. I even love the sensation of being full. I just do. And then, every month or two, I move the belt up yet another notch and hate myself in the morning when my pants no longer fit. So how are you doing it? What’s the secret?”
“Oh! You want to know what diet I am following. I call it the ‘The Three D’s and B Diet.”
“Really, what’s that stand for?”
Now I know, at this point, that the person(s) that I am talking to hopes, in the back nether-regions of his or her (their) mind(s), that they are about to hear a description of the easiest diet ever devised. One that takes no effort, leaves no feeling of emptiness or caloric longing, and which caused even a fifty year old guy to drop down to pants sizes he has never wore before; even as bell bottomed jeans. I can see it in their eyes, pleading: please say three D’s and a B stands for Dunkin Doughnuts, Dreamsicles and Beef.
After a short hesitation, because I know they are really curious, say about five and a half heart beats, I answer: “It stands for Death, Divorce, Drinking and a Blind Dog.”
Now they know they’ve gotten themselves in a pickle. Crap, they think, almost universally, I am dealing with damaged goods here.
Invariably, they look toward a door at this point.
Anyway, I explain it thus:
“Here’s all you have to do. Wait for a significant loss in your life. One is always just around the corner, you know. Can be anything, a favorite pet, a ceramic pot that drops, anything that will act as a catalyst for the Big Bang of your family unit, followed by binge drinking and then, right in the middle of it all, have your favorite dog contract a bizarre fungal disease that causes you to have her eyes removed. Trust me, you will drop weight faster than a balloonist countering a leak while heading straight toward an electric transmission wire. Then, when you start to feel better, cut the drinking back a bit and BAM weight loss!”
So, one time, I gave this same explanation to a friend of mine, one who is, in fact, well acquainted with the drama that fills my life’s current diorama. When I told this to him or her, he or she said, looking me straight in the eye:
“Ya, near as I can tell, it works every time.”
“Hmmm, Well, wanna go get something to eat?”
“What? Didn’t we just talk about . . . well, Thanks. Yes, I think I do.”
“Whadaya feel like eating?”
“This might sound weird, but I feel steak and doughnuts followed by a quick trip to Dairy Queen. I call that a “Beef and Sweets evening.”
“Dan, that’s the most logical thing you’ve said all night.”
“Ya, well I got dibs on the doggie bag and is it OK if I bring my son along?”
“Absolutely Dan, there’s room for all of you in my car. Bring it all. Oh, and Dan, you are the weirdest mother I ever met.”
“Well, the diet does works, you know.”
“Ya, I know, I can tell. Let’s go.”
I just gotta tell you, I have the best friends in the world.
And that is sweeter than a Creme Filled Log at Dunkin Doughnuts.