Dieting since the Seventies

(Was going through files and thought I'd post this one from a few months back. The pizza, by the way, was worth every calorie!)

At the last minute, a friend and I decided to meet for a quick dinner. Both of us had a list of household chores a mile long, but we decided the dust wasn't going anywhere and we needed a girls' night out.

We talked and laughed from the minute we left her driveway until we arrived at a local restaurant. When the waitress came over, we instinctively ordered the typical "I'm on a diet" beverages -- water with extra lemon.

I think I've been on a diet since the seventies. As a teen, it was fashionable to be on a diet. As a young college student, eating light was a necessity as those dollar bills went to tuition, room and board before they went to the Winn-Dixie.

When planning a wedding, I dieted like a crazy person so I would be thin for the wedding pictures. In reality, I had the concept backwards.

A girl's wedding day should be the time when she weighs the most. That way, whenever she looks back on the wedding photos for years to come, people can say, "You sure have slimmed down since that time."

As a bonus, a gal can always get into her wedding dress years after taking that walk down the aisle.

But we don't think rationally as we count calories and try to Zumba our way into those blue slacks that have been hanging in the back of the closet so long, the price tag was printed by hand.

The young waitress handed us the menus, and I tried to figure out what I could order and still button my slacks in the morning.

We looked at the appetizers and spinach seemed like a good choice until I saw that healthy vegetable would be covered with warm cream and served with goat cheese.

So I skipped down and thought the salmon salad might be a good choice.

Until I saw the price tag -- $12.95. Sorry, but I'm not paying over $12 for lettuce that's $1.79 in the grocery store. And salmon, while tasty, just doesn't taste the same on lettuce as it does swimming in a sea of butter sauce.

I looked at the pasta selection and immediately lingered on one of my favorites, lasagna. "Layers of pasta, meat and cheeses" the description began, and I could feel the button on my pants begin to strain.

Immediately, I changed tactics, looking for the seafood box as that's usually a low-fat choice. The shrimp was grilled, but when served in a lemon cream sauce over angel hair pasta, I knew that thick sauce negated any health effects from the sea.

Ten minutes later, I was still studying the menu, wondering what low-calorie dish I could choose, and then I sadly realized there was nothing on that menu, except a dry house salad for $6.95, I could eat that wouldn't completely blow any semblance of a diet.

About that time, the waitress returned to our table and asked for our orders. Impulsively, I decided to go for broke.

I ordered pizza because I love pizza. I love the freshly baked crust and the way the melted cheese smothers the layers of pepperoni, mushrooms and Italian sausage. If I'm going to blow my diet, then I'm going to do it in grand fashion.

I'll diet tomorrow. And from the way that warm, scrumptious pizza tasted, probably for the next week.

Okay, the next month.

But when the food's delicious and the conversation's even better, calories shouldn't matter.

Now all I have to do is convince my hips.

This column originally appeared in The Fort Bend Herald.