Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Diet Pills... Not for the Hypochondriac!

Losing weight has never been an easy task for me. Or anyone else for that matter besides the Olsen twins. I have tried everything from the dreaded Cayenne approach that left my poor office mate praying for the day to be over so she could "evacuate" the area, to eating just fiber bars which pretty much had the same effect. No matter what I do, I wake up in the middle of the night with no recollection of how the pop tart wrappers are under the covers, the sheets are covered in crumbs, and my mouth as a sweet cinnamon swirl aftertaste. I cheat in my sleep and I am ashamed of my actions.

So yesterday, while in Wal-Mart I decided to look at some diet pills. You know, the usual products that reduce your appetite, curve your cravings (who doesn't crave being put in a bathtub of cake frosting and eating herself out?), and speed up your metabolism. There was an entire aisle dedicated to this stuff! Pills, potions, liquid shots, powders, soaps that "wash away your cellulite," and other mind numbing concoctions. All I wanted was an appetite suppressant so I wasn't tempted to eat my cat at 9pm when the hunger pangs set in.

I read the labels for everything. This one causes minor "stomach irritation" which, when translated, means I would spend the entire day in the bathroom. Another one warned that hallucinations may occur if the pills are taken too close together. Frankly, I am crazy enough to introduce a diet pill that causes me to see Abe Lincoln and Puxatony Phil in my kitchen. Then there was the one on sale (ding ding ding!) that caught my attention. Warning label read: "Chocking Hazard- Take this product with adequate fluid as it may cause your throat or esophagus to swell and block proper air flow. Chocking will result and potentially death."

No I did not spell choking wrong... that's how it was on the bottle. Strike one. And a pill that will result in my esophagus closing shut because I didn't drink enough water to get it down? Strike two. Just standing there in the aisle reading the warning label made my throat start to feel as if it was closing. I put the box back on the shelf and bid farewell to the potential magic potions and powders that would instantly shed 20 pounds off my body in 48 hours.

I am now back to waking up with crumbs on my pillow, and wondering, like the reaction after a regretted one-night stand when you can't remember the name of the man laying next to you, I am plagued by the question: "What flavor was that pop tart anyway?" Shameful.

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