Dieting Saboteurs!

It's amazing that people want to offer you tid-bits of help when they think you need to lose weight (which, shocker of shockers, I do). You finally jump in with both feet and take steps to make specific LIFE CHANGING eating habits (which includes bringing your own packed HEALTHY lunches to work) and those same tid-bit helpers want to offer you crap to eat!
"Here, I brought a plate of brownies. Try one, Tina, you'll love it."
"Thanks, but no thanks." *Smile*
"No, really, you'll love it! Just try a bite" Brownie (or whatever treat) comes at my face.
I don't want to say (but probably should say): "I'm on a diet, Saboteur! Back off or meet your maker today!"

I end up saying, "No, I'm fine. Thanks, anyway." *Smile* *nod* (to assure them I mean business)

This kind of back and forth conversation usually leads into more of a confrontation than I want it to be, though. Inevitably, I end up being reminded of the time we all went to Lake Powell.

Ah, Lake Powell. God's Country. Makes me smile.

I was a 15 year old hottie (and would love to look like I did then). All gazillion of my cousins and aunts and uncles decided it would be such fun to rent two houseboats and cram ourselves on them and float about for a week. And as a 15 year old, guess what? IT WAS A BLAST! I loved the whole week and still love the memory of it all!

So among the many duties when renting a houseboat is cleaning out the poop tanks. I mean, there's only so much room in there. You pull anchor and drive the boat until you get to a dock that includes the hose that hooks up and sucks that crap out - literally.

Well that was this day. My dad and Richard were on poop duty and the hose they connected to the house boat, didn't quite connect properly. It took the two of them holding the hose in place in order for the sucking to happen. BUT little bitty poopage would squirt out through the broken seal and before long the hands of Richard and my dad were covered in sewage speckles. And the hands didn't want to be alone, so their shirts and faces and neck and hair got little free-flying squirts from time to time. Now imagine it! You can't wipe it off, because your hands are covered and making a sort of seal...removing your hands removes that so-called seal and more squirt action occurs. So are we on the same page, here?

It's a HOT summer day - and at Lake Powell, hot days are real scorchers. So those of us who weren't on poop duty went and shopped in the little "store" and talked amongst ourselves and purchased ice cream cones. Yummers! What a relief from the heat of the day. My mom and my aunt Sherry (Gene's ex-wife), being the kind hearted thoughtful moms that they are, bought an ice cream cone for each Richard and my Dad.

So, Richard and my dad are still holding the poop hose in place and cursing under their breath but are afraid to out right yell the obsenities for the obvious reason: if the poop is flying anywhere near their mouth, they're liable to get some of it in there with those cursings and obsenities. So they keep it to a mumbling grumble. My sweet aunt Sherry says, "here, Jay, we got you an ice cream cone."

Now my dad can lack a little tact at times, but I gotta say, I empathize with this situation.

He tells Aunt Sherry, "Not right now." Now does he really have to explain why taking the cone at THIS instant isn't a good idea?

He chooses not to explain.

"Well, here, we got it for you." She hands the cone in his direction.
"Not right now." grumble grumble....squirtage still flying.
"But it's for you," cone still out there for the taking.

Now my mom still gets angry about the sequence of events that followed that offer. Me, I always LMAO! It was funny! It's still funny after all these years! It makes me laugh just thinking about it!

My dad, in all his tactful glory, takes the cone and tosses it carelessly into the lake behind him. I can't remember if he even said, "thank you" or some other facetious comment. He places his hand back to continue the poop suckage.

I don't remember all that took place immediately following that action, but I think of it every time someone offers me some food I DON'T WANT. Whether or not I'm on a diet is beside the point.

Dude, I don't want your brownie...the end. Seriously, I don't care how good a cook you or your wife is, I don't want it. I always think, should I just take it and throw it in the garbage or should I stand my ground with courteous no thank you's. I usually say, "Coworker (place a name here), thank you, but I am not going to have one, okay? But I appreciate your thoughtfulness. Please don't keep pressuring me, okay?"

But I always feel I'm such a jerk, like their feelings are hurt for life. For the record, though, I don't take whatever they are offering just to make them feel better - frankly, it's not a good enough reason. Does that make me a bad person?

Anyway, so there's my dieting woes for the day. I cry: Saboteurs! BUT, and herein lies the biggest BUT, I move forward UNDETERRED!