Confessions of a Middle Aged Dieter: How to Lose Weight Quickly

Confessions of a Middle Aged Dieter: "How to Lose Weight Quickly"

1. Make a “split the pot” deal with the maintenance man at your kids’ school for use of the basement for a midnight “Fight Club” for irritable, middle-aged female dieters like yourself and guilt-ridden, liberal men dressed up as Harvey Weinstein, Matt Lauer and Donald Trump you beat the shit out of. Get ripped. Get even. Make Brad Pitt proud. #metoo
2. If you live with your boyfriend or girlfriend – move out. If you’re married – get a divorce. You're never as thin as you are living alone and trying to score.
3. Enroll at the local college, live in the dorms and engage in a, “Enjoy every moment I’m alive” and “I’m going to live forever” diet full of cigarettes, alcohol and Olympic athlete sex with twenty-year-olds. Charge everything to your parents’ credit cards - even if they’re dead. Starve yourself to win the love of an aloof fraternity boy or to get attention from your (possibly dead) parents. Lose thirty pounds. Get an old fashioned tan sizzling on the B-school rooftop and it will look like forty pounds. Throw away your Vitamin D supplements and blood pressure medicine.
4. Admit you’re a wino (you are) and start adding soda water to every glass of wine you drink. It’s time you stopped slurring your words before even the salad is served at your local Planned Parenthood fundraiser.
5. Eat lunch every day in front of a mirror in your string bikini. If it looks wrong, it is wrong. Suck in your tummy.
6. Befriend/Follow every Frenemy you ever had currently living a perfect life on social media.
7. Wallpaper your kitchen with topless photos from the South of France from your twenty-first birthday. Tell your teenage son to stay out of the kitchen and give him pocket money to eat at the local 7-11 until you are "naked with the lights on" thin again.
8. Wear high heels – everywhere – in the shower, on the treadmill, at Trader Joe’s buying five dollar wine, while you sleep, while you secretly concoct a plan to destroy one of your Frenemies...Continue wearing high heels until your ass looks just as good in ballet flats. Buy Chanel ones. You put in the work. Treat yourself.
9. Look at photos of your mother when she was nine months pregnant with you and still weighed less than you do now. Remember that smoking is not healthy and that your intolerance to dairy would never enable you to eat cottage cheese and canned pears every day like she did. Also, Tab is illegal now.
10. Fly first class to Paris drinking Champagne and eating bowls of mixed nuts. Retain as much excess water as possible. Once you arrive, take a taxi straight to the Champs Elysees and walk into the first women’s clothing store you see. Pretend you don’t know European sizes, ask for the largest size of a pair of pants you like and walk into the dressing room. Try not to cry when you can’t pull the pants above the knee. Remember that a French “46” is equivalent to a Gap size 2. Put on your stylish sunglasses and walk out the door, telling yourself that “this must be how Elizabeth Taylor felt that time Joan Rivers said her blood type was Ragu.” Stop thinking about eating a delicious bowl of Pasta Bolognese back at your hotel and flag a taxi right back to the airport. Max out your credit cards on Belgian chocolates at the Duty Free (for the kids obviously). Scowl at the svelte French woman sitting beside you savoring a slice of cheese on the flight back to the States. Comfort yourself by reaching over her to get your Champagne glass filled. Be content with the knowledge that there’s at least one thing Americans get right in the large department – gigantic, diamond engagement rings! U-S-A! U-S-A! Tell her “I just gave birth - to twins” and guzzle more Champagne while watching an old episode of “Wings” on your tiny, seat back TV. Consider shoulder pads as a narrowing/optical illusion. Email your plastic surgeon for liposuction quotes.

11. Adopt a pig(wild and antibiotic/hormone-free of course) from a local farm and name it after yourself. Follow the pig daily via a live video feed, watching it eat everything in sight and sleeping in its own filth. Once you’ve lost all your weight, achieve catharsis by having it humanely slaughtered and given to the local food shelter or have Anthony Bourdain kill it for his TV show. Tell your Accountant to deduct the dead pig as a charitable expense. Never eat bacon again.


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