The new ‘can’t miss’ weight-loss diet

A few months ago I noticed that over time I had apparently
undergone a subtle cumulative physical change which probably has
some technical medical label like
”
hyperlipid tubbiosity
”
or perhaps
”
waisticular rotundus.
”
A few months ago I noticed that over time I had apparently undergone a subtle cumulative physical change which probably has some technical medical label like “hyperlipid tubbiosity” or perhaps “waisticular rotundus.”

My own non-medical conclusion was that I, through no fault of my own, had become tragically overweight, the embodiment of the pithy observation that inside every fat person there are two thin people with plenty of room. Somewhere there was a monster truck missing a spare tire and I knew where it was.

I mean, I had tried every weight-loss idea known to man except diet or exercise and nothing had worked, so when the full realization of my condition fell on me like a mouth-watering ton of fresh, warm Krispy Kreme glazed doughnuts, or maybe a big box of Mrs. Fields chocolate chip cookies, or it might have been more like a case of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food ice cream, or – excuse me, what were we talking about, I may have wandered off there – anyway, my first reaction was the same as anybody’s: I must have some sort of sacred right that has been cruelly violated by a party or parties unknown who have money, so who can I sue?

I’m an American, what can I tell you, and I’ve been raised in the sheltering arms of the God-given principle enshrined in the First Amendment or someplace equally sacrosanct that for every bad thing there is a well-heeled defendant waiting to be served with a summons. Liberty and justice for all, the pursuit of happiness, the blessings of freedom – these noble expressions of lofty ideals are mere fanciful babble, shadows without substance if bad things are allowed to occur without generous compensation from somebody.

OK, so there are the scoundrels who sell me high-calorie food week after week without imposing any limitations at all on my consumption.

Then there are the folks who manufacture the goodies and wantonly sell them to stores completely heedless of the damage they could cause to unsuspecting serial-noshers like, say, me.

And of course there are the ad agencies who rake in the profits from the shameless temptations they throw in our path every day on television and in the print media: “Ooh, don’t those new IHOP stuffed pancakes look irresistible” as though we’re not supposed to feel that the bright promise inherent in our births will remain unfulfilled until we go to IHOP and stuff ourselves like ravenous cannoli. There should be more than enough liability to go around.

Alas, my extensive research into potential deep-pocketed miscreants left me with the nagging feeling that I might actually be in some way partially responsible for my situation, which in turn led me to the creation of a guaranteed money-making, best-selling book-writing, talk-show tour-scheduling, can’t fail ultimate diet.

I call it The Eat Way Less, Weigh Less Diet. Its principles are simple, easy to remember, and sure-fire. It does not involve ingesting orchards of grapefruit, avoiding carbs, restricting protein, or making salads out of flowers. It has six key points:

• Eat less food.

• If you think you’ve had enough food you should have stopped 10 minutes ago; remember that next time.

• Don’t eat so much.

• Will you stop with the food already? You’re not starving.

• Think about something besides food. Anything will do – hockey uniforms, train schedules – as long as it’s not edible.

• Fat comes from excess food; are there any bells going off here?

Now, I actually put myself on this diet, and to my amazement it worked; I have lost weight like the Raiders lose football games. Who knew?

It’s so mechanical: if I eat fewer calories than I burn every day I lose weight. It just happens like some kind of naturally-occurring phenomenon as inexorable as gravity, and the most amazing thing of all is that it doesn’t even come close to involving a computer, a television, or a cell phone – how many things in this world can you say that about any more?

So now it’s just a matter of writing the book, making the infomercial, and picking out which clothes I’ll be wearing on Oprah. I mean, it’s like, foolproof; there is no way people can fail to be successful on this diet, I can’t lose.

Oh wait; damn.

I just gave it all away for free, didn’t I?

Despite being an award-winning columnist, Robert Mitchell doggedly remains the same eccentric attorney who has practiced general law in Morgan Hill for more than 30 years. Reach him at r.****@*****on.net.