The article by Ms. Ivens, from the July MARIE CLAIRE, is called “The Lonely Diet Girl.” Here’s an excerpt:
I had encouraged my bottom’s expansion by being the friend you could always share a chocolate soufflé and a bottle of wine with. What I didn’t realize was that such decadence was a weekly treat for other girls, not an everyday indulgence, as it was for me. Now, with a flagging metabolism, I would have to join the ranks of women all over the world whom I had never understood: the starved, the tortured, the miserable, the calorie-counters.
When I fessed up to my diet plan after week one, I was surprised that, instead of offering kinship and support, a few women were upset with me. As I had been their enabler, my sudden decision to restrain myself at the dining table reflected badly on their decision — or inability — not to. “Go on, let’s have one cocktail! You’re so boring now that you don’t drink!” As soon as my alcohol-free existence was uncovered, getting me boozed up became the mission for many on a given night.
The jealousy was palpable — especially when, after four weeks of trimming fat, sugar, and useless calories, I’d lost 10 pounds. At this point the tone changed from “We’re trying to get fun Sarah back” to “Depriving yourself is scary and dangerous.”
How crazy is that, dear blog readers?