I saw a photo of myself the other day and the last time I had seen myself looking so puffy in the face was when I was 9 1/2 months pregnant. It was no surprise - The Daddy and I have been pointing and laughing at each other for months now, usually as we meet on the way to the kitchen for another cookie or bowl of ice cream. We know all about da fat. And it’s not really an issue.

Except when it is, like the threat of having to buy whole new wardrobes when the ones we have are not even halfway to being worn out.

The Daddy, trying to be helpful, found a diet for me in a French magazine which promised to have me looking like a young Kate Moss, in just 30 days! It involved, well, mostly not eating. I could probably fast for a month and it would be easier than following all the complicated routines laid out in the magazine article, like spinach and broccoli are OK for lunch but no green beans or tomatoes.

In any case, I have never been able to diet. My metabolism just doesn’t allow it. Plus my children do not enjoy being shouted at and the The Daddy hates the crying fits. (And that’s just when I miss my afternoon snack). So right now I am following a modified eating plan involving lots of protein throughout the day and just a little bit in the evening. I have had to reduce the sugar and carbs for this one, people and OMG this is difficult.

(Sugar in tea doesn’t really count. Honestly it doesn’t. Once it has dissolved it is not sugar any more, right? It becomes part of the tea! And yes, I am suddenly drinking a lot of tea, so what? Did you notice the weather is cold???)

After only two days I am starting to wonder if it is really worth it. It’s slightly less painful than planned exercise though. Exercise is The Daddy’s weight control method of choice, which is why he has decided to stay fat until it gets warm enough to start running again. Don’t laugh - he will run every day for a week during spring, after which he will have lost about 20lbs, following which he will run for an extra week to get a six pack.

It’s just not funny, having to live with him. It’s enough to drive me to cookies.