Thursday, September 18, 2014




Life happens: But white girls are always on a diet, aren't they?

By By Aprill Brandon
Jan. 17, 2013 at midnight
Updated Jan. 16, 2013 at 7:17 p.m.


You guys, I don't know. Is it just me, or does this new year just seem, I don't know, a bit lackluster? A bit blah?

I mean, 2013? Thirteen itself is just a crappy number. Unlucky, even. And was anyone happy when they turned 13? Of course not. You had acne and hair sprouting in weird places and were the very definition of awkward and everyone hated you because you were super annoying.

Even the end of the world Mayan prediction was a letdown, unable to live up to the hype of Y2K.

Then again, maybe it's just me. I'm just not feeling the bright, shiny part of this bright, shiny new year. I couldn't even gather up the energy to make a resolution this year. Not even to lose weight, which, as a white girl born and bred in the Midwest, has been my standard Jan. 1 promise since I was four.

And, come to think of it, maybe that's the problem.

See, normally, this time of the year is downright magical. The time when we women research and plan and empty our pantries full of junk and buy pills and powders and that yoga DVD, which goes perfectly with the brand new, cute yoga outfit we just bought, and we write out our daily menu for the next two weeks based on the latest, trendy diet book we also just bought.

It's a time of hope, the time when this diet seems like it actually is the answer to our weight-loss woes, unlike the 42 others that we've tried and failed miserably at, and the time just before reality sets in and we'd stab a three-legged, orphaned bunny just to get our hands on a piece of chocolate cake.

I can't explain why the majority of us women love putting ourselves through this year after year. But we do. To the tune of $600 trillion* a year for the diet industry. So there must be something enjoyable about it. Even if we have yet to figure out what that enjoyable element actually is.

Not to mention, we're encouraged by an endless parade of publications putting out their health and fitness issues and Facebook and Twitter feeds of everyone talking about their new, amazing diet:

"Just lost seven pounds on the leek soup diet! I've passed out 32 times but can totes fit in my skinny jeans! Jajajajaja!"

So maybe I'm just feeling a bit left out. I have no desire to put myself through all that again. It just seems like too much work for something that has a proven fail rate of 100 percent. And, I mean, if I can't get excited about a new diet, honestly what else is there to live for?

Hmm ... then again, maybe I'm being too pessimistic. Maybe this is actually a healthy step for me. Perhaps I've finally gotten to the age where I accept and love my body for what it is, muffin top and all.

Or more likely, I've reached the pivotal point in my life where I've subconsciously decided to just let myself go and start that muumuu collection I'm always (kind of) joking about.

Either way, I'm going to eat this pie and not feel guilty or at least, not as guilty as I'd usually feel or, at the very least, feel guilty but then have another slice anyway and then start planning my new diet for the start of 2014.

*Figure might not be accurate, considering I just made it up on the spot.

Aprill Brandon is a columnist for the Advocate. Her column runs every two weeks in the Your Life section. Comment on this story at VictoriaAdvocate.com.

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