The Battle of the Bulge

Caught in the act: Mr. Kaminski eating McDonald’s while I’m trying not to “die” on my diet – really?

By Patti Parish-Kaminski, Publisher

I’ve been on a diet for five weeks now, and this gig is not for the faint of heart. Fortunately for Mr. Kaminski, I’ve been solo holed up out West for a good portion of that time by myself. Frankly, not having him around has helped the process. He’s like an infant; you have to feed him at least every four hours or he gets extremely cranky. I’ve been limiting myself to eating twice a day, whether I need to or not. And yes, I’m not very pleasant.

I’ve been on diets throughout my 55 years from time to time, and let’s just say, this process does not get easier. I just don’t understand that. We’re supposed to get better at things with practice, and I’ve practiced losing weight – a lot. If I were a football team, I’d have Super Bowl rings on every finger – literally. That’s how much practice I’ve had at this weight loss thing. I should be a Hall of Famer by now, and I should look fabulous, but something has gone incredibly wrong. I have no new rings, I did not get a trip to Disney and I’m still fluffy.

It’s taken me five weeks to lose 11 pounds and even with my high-powered glasses on – not the cute ones I wear on the daily, but the James Bond spy caliber ones I wear when I really need to see – I cannot tell it in the least. I have checked my scale. It is calibrated properly down to the ounces. Yes, I am that girl. Mr. Kaminski says he absolutely can tell I have lost 10 pounds. Of course, I corrected him; one pound is everything in the battle of the bulge. But y’all know he would say anything to stay alive.

I will say that Mr. Kaminski has been supportive of my diminished dining agenda, and I have appreciated that because I am on a mission, and I will not be dissuaded, much to his chagrin. I am nothing if not determined. This is nothing new. So, while I was showering adoration and praise upon Mr. Kaminski for his support of my latest endeavor, which literally begins with the word “die,” I made a shocking discovery.

You see, Mr. Kaminski has been running into town every day to get this or that. He calls it being “helpful.” Today, we went into town together. That’s when I discovered the true nature of his helpfulness. There it was right there on the front seat of his truck: an empty McDonald’s bag.

I would like to say that I was a good Christian about the situation, but it would do no good for me to lie to y’all like that. I mentioned I have not been very pleasant during this dietary debacle. I lost what was left of my ever-lovin’ mind. On a positive note, perhaps that loss will be reflected on the scale.

So, I ranted, I raved, I stomped, I swore and then I very quietly collected myself and purse and got in the truck. Silence always makes Mr. Kaminski worry. When we arrived in town, I promptly walked to a lovely art gallery. Now I am a staunch supporter of the arts so naturally I felt compelled to spend a significant amount of Mr. Kaminski’s money. Yes, that Big Mac ended up costing a lot more than he intended.

Mr. Kaminski is not stealth. He is not good at hiding things. He literally leaves a trail of crumbs wherever he goes. I suppose that’s a positive for our marriage, but honestly, it would have worked out better for all involved – Mr. Kaminski and his bank account – if he would have hidden his indiscretion.

I’ll let y’all know how this diet thing progresses and if Mr. Kaminski’s support remains steadfast. But if y’all see me sporting a new outfit or redecorating, you’ll know he’s fallen off the wagon. See y’all next week – on the porch!

Patti Parish-Kaminski

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