Please don’t call Mr. Leibowitz and tell him I should have flunked algebra in eighth grade. This is my formula for the next
fifteen fourteen weeks. Our wellness committee at work has launched its version of “Biggest Loser,” just in time for the post-holiday guilt fast in which many of us are now engaged. I was going to do this anyway, but if there might be an actual prize, then I might try harder. Which is the point, after all.
I have spoken many times on this blog about my fondness for food. Much more the gourmand (gourmoo?) than gourmet, I don’t shy away from much and have little in the way of will power. Portion control in a world of double this and triple that extra value meals is a constant battle. As inaccurate as they may be I have to rely on the nutrition facts panels and a daily running calorie count of everything I eat in my little black notebook (and you thought that was for something else!).
Now if you’ll pardon me I have to go find my hiking boots or, if we finally get some snow, my cross country skis and work on the output side of the equation.