I've found it! Thank God. The real key to weight loss. In the past few years I've put on 20 pounds in addition to the extra 20 pounds I already had, so I was desperately seeking a way to lose weight and keep it off.
Last year I managed to lose 17 pounds but I somehow put it all back on again. Being sick since December some time, I haven't been able to diet and as of today I was actually afraid to get on the scale.
Then it happened...
I woke up this morning and fumbled in my panty drawer for ... well, the obvious...because I couldn't turn on the light and it was dark in my room. I felt what I thought were my regular undies, but when I put them on I realized they were panties from a few years back. I knew this even without seeing them because they were too tight.
But...they weren't so tight that I couldn't wear them. And I was in too much of a hurry to get downstairs and make coffee. So I pulled pajama pants on over them, slid into a T-shirt and began my day.
Interstingly, though, when I went to make myself peanut butter toast my panties sort of pinched. I put the bread back in the bag and grabbed a banana.
At lunch I nearly made egg salad, but my panties pinched again and I settled for two hard boiled eggs instead. No mayo. No bread.
I got on the treadmill and did my usual mile, but my panties tweaked a bit and I forced myself to go another twenty minutes...another mile.
By then I was intrigued.
When I'd gained my last 20 pounds, I bought a pack of temporary undies, telling myself that as soon as I lost the weight I'd toss them. But I never did -- lose the weight or toss the undies. Instead I bought another pack.
It seemed like the right thing to do, but now I wonder if I wasn't just an enabler. By buying bigger panties, had I made it okay to eat Suzy-Q's and drink beer? By stopping that nice, tight little bunch that pinched my round, womanly hips and reminded me I didn't need peanut butter...or mayo...or bread ... had I given myself permission to gain weight?
So I'm considering tossing all my clothes that fit, and forcing myself into jeans that won't zip and T-shirts that almost constrict my breathing.
Of course, I could just stay with the too tight undies. A secret, silent reminder that no, I do not need peanut butter.