Okay, I’m stuck. I’ve been stuck here for two years. I think that I shall NEVER break this barrier. I have been flirting with the same constant weight now for 18 months — 210. They say it’s good to maintain your weight, not to increase or decrease, but by God, this is not good.

Lucky me. Not only have I fallen off the bandwagon of blogging, I’ve fallen off the diet binge too. While I haven’t really gained weight, I’ve not lost it, either. Now I’m being penalized by my new insurance carrier for being overweight and aged. I get to pay a 25% premium for my health insurance. That translates to about $1.71 for each extra pound I’m hauling around.

You might think that extra $1,200 a year would motivate me to get off my capacious hindquarters and lose the weight. But sadly, right now I just don’t feel the fever. I feel a lot more like diving into a loaf of bread, some Pierre Robert and a nice bottle of Cotes du Rhone. It all just feels so intractable. And I’m pretty dang healthy in other ways. My resting heart rate is 48; my blood pressure is 105/70, and my cholesterol is only 185. I don’t smoke, I exercise everyday and somehow, I think I might live to be 314 years old. And yet my insurer doesn’t believe me.

Oh, the woe of being 45 and fat.

In the past two weeks, I’ve put on .8 pounds, according the the beast of a scale Weight Watchers runs. But I still feel thinner, even if I’m not. When I learned about my gain last night, I was ready to walk right out. Not to eat, but basically not to listen to anymore bullshit from the plan. I gained weight because it was Easter, and a whole variety of other reasons that don’t have to do with me accepting myself for who I am. I know who I am. I might not like some aspects very well, but I do know who I am and what I’m supposed to do to lose weight. And the truth is on the scale. I didn’t do it.

So it’s back to the plan, again. I feel like I’ve gained and lost this same eight pounds at least 20 times. What I’d like to do is just lose the eight pounds, then get on with losing the rest. I’m sick of being stuck here. It’s so ridiculously trivial and stupid.

It’s safe to say that I now appreciate food more than ever. Everything tastes better. And in the small quantites in which I’m permitted to eat, I savor every bite.

There’s goodness in this, I suppose. As much as I said I loved food and wine, maybe I wasn’t really appreciating all the tasty things I gobbled down to get me to where I am now. If you always have filet mignon and never ground chuck, how can you truly appreciate the difference and enjoy the filet as it should be enjoyed? Not that I ate filet all the time, but I certainly have consumed my fair share of rich, decadent and tasty things, and never felt hesitation about slathering on a layer of butter on a baguette.

Now that I’m forced to hesitate, I’ve begun to find that the choices I make are first really about enjoyment, rather than just feeding the beast. Of course, the majority of the time I could easy gnaw off the table leg, but at least now I know that if it goes in my mouth, it had better be really tasty. Because I savor every single calorie. And every calorie tastes better because of it.

The way I see it, 67 pounds is a lot to haul around. It’s as big as my dog, Semi. It’s more than 50 lb. bag of dog food. It weighs more than a sixth grader. It’s a third bigger than my other dog, Baci. It’s about half of a small woman.

That’s a lot!

These days, when I look at myself in the mirror, I see all of the flab. I’ve avoided the mirror for years because I really didn’t want to see. You know how it works: You look only at your head and cast a glancing gaze over the rest of your fully clothed body. Then you decide that there’s nothing horribly wrong with your appearance (no extra lint, stains, tears or holes) and put the whole image check out of your mind. Now I’m looking. I look forward to the day when all I see is me … without the flab.

I’m hungry a lot. Most of the time, in fact. Particularly on this diet. As soon as I’m done, I’m ready for more. It’s the same after 20 minutes, which only goes to show that waiting 20 minutes doesn’t necessarily improve the situation.

Since starting this plan a couple of weeks ago, I have had a consistent light headache. I can only attribute it to being hungry. Does anyone else have this problem?

I realize it’s a little self-indulgent to complain about being hungry when you’re trying to lose 67 pounds. There are starving kids in Somalia, after all. But since I do have to live my life and can’t immediately fix the global hunger situation, I’ve got to start with my own. Any suggestions about how not to be hungry and still lose weight would be appreciated.

Yikes. Better get rid of that black sweater.

Makes two quick and tasty portions. 12 points per serving on Weight Watchers.

2 - 4 oz. boneless skinless chicken breasts
2 tbls. olive oil
1 small head cauliflower, florets separated and quartered
1/2 thinly sliced red onion
1 thinly sliced fresh jalapeno pepper
1 tbls. butter
3 tbls. dry bread crumbs
3 tbls. finely chopped fresh Italian parsley
3 tbls. freshly grated Parmesan Reggiano
Juice of one lemon

Pound out the chicken breast until they are about 1/2 inch thick. Sear in a hot skillet coated with a thin film of olive oil until slight browned. Put in 300 F oven for 10 minutes or until cooked through but still juicy.

Meanwhile, put the olive oil in large skillet and heat it until hot but not smoking. Add the cauliflower and toss to coat with the oil. Then let it sear in the pan, undisturbed, for 3-5 minutes until brown. Add the onions, and saute until translucent. Add the jalapeno and saute for an additinal minute. Add the butter, tossing to coat all ingredients when melted. Add the breadcrumbs. Add the parsley.

Put the chicken on the plates. Add the cheese to the skillet. Toss to coat. Pour skillet contents over the chicken. Squeeze the lemon over the plates and enjoy!

My partner pointed out to me yesterday that I always say “if I could lose this weight …” instead of “when I lose this weight.”

It’s an important distinction. I’ve always said “if” because I was pretty sure I’d fail miserably. But now I think I’m going to say “when,” even though I’m still not convinced that I won’t fail. I’m going to do it because I think it’s probably more motivating than expecting failure.

There’s a ray of hope in all of this. I went to visit my family last weekend, and stuck to the whole program. Nary a chocolate doughnut hole or glass of wine made it to my capacious maw. Instead, I stuck to the program and actually lost two pounds this week. I never, ever thought I could do that. So maybe now when I say “when,” it actually means something.

This time it feels different. Maybe it’s the fear of beinig fat at 45, or health concerns, or being sick of being fat. But somehow I’m feeling like it’s actually possible to lose this weight. Yesterday I was doing a photoshoot with a client, and two interesting things happened.

First, I asked the photographer to take a professional, full-body picture of me. (Clothed, of course, but nevertheless, not a great sight.) NEVER would I have done such a thing before. But I asked him to because this will be my big “before” picture. I’ve never wanted to take a before picture until now because I realize I never thought that there would be an “after.” So that was good. I’ll post the picture as soon as I have it.

Second, this particular client loves wine as much as I do. At the end of the shoot, they offered everyone a glass to celebrate a successful day. The old me: “YES please!” The new me: “No thank you.” Since I’ve worked for this client for many years and they know that I love wine too, jaws dropped. But I held fast, went home and ate a reasonable dinner.

I couldn’t believe myself.