My big fat moment of truth

Listen, I have nothing against salad. I love the stuff -- it's a basic food group all by itself at Casa Diff. But I have this bad habit of associating the word "diet" with rabbit food ad nauseam, and it depresses me. Because I love to eat.

Once I was skinny. So skinny that in high school, a guy nicknamed me "Twiggy." I could eat a house, or two, and not gain weight. I was tall and athletic and active, and I loved to eat.

I still love to eat, but now my metabolism is on the far side of middle-aged and I'm sedentary, except for walks with the dog. A few years ago my thyroid went on strike, and although I now take thyroid replacement meds, my body wants to hang onto every fat cell and to nurture and grow them lovingly, so it can brag to all the model-thin bodies, "Look what I can do! I can store fat so I won't starve in a famine -- nyah nyah."

"Fat Actress" Kirstie Alley and I have a few things in common.

Between bouts of serious self-loathing, I fool myself into thinking that I'm basically pretty and essentially in good health, so what's the big deal? I'm just ... "curvaceous." But candid photos, clothing sizes, and rear-view glimpses in dressing-room mirrors are telling me something else. So is the scale.

The truth is that I'm a Fat Editor. Fat Mom and Wife. Fat Unhappy Woman.

So, on Monday I joined Weight Watchers and brought my bad attitude along for the ride. Having to watch what I eat annoys the crap out of me and turns me into a petulant six-year-old. I start a diet with the depressing assumption that I'll fail either in losing weight or in maintaining the loss. My experience as a human yo-yo is long and replete with angst.

Still. I will do this. I will do it because I hate the way I look. I'll do it because I'm 53 and menopausal and at risk for type 2 diabetes. I'll do it because my hips ache with bursitis, and I'd love to lace on my hockey skates and hit the rink again before I die. I'll do it because I want be around a REALLY LONG time to see our kids grown up and working and married, and maybe have a couple of grandchildren to dote on, and do some traveling when I'm retired.

Send a prayer, wish me luck, cheer me on. I'll need all the help I can get.