Diet Wars

Recently, my grandson Ethan has become "horse crazy".  Since we have had the horses longer than his ten years, he has always been exposed and around them, occasionally exhibiting mild interest, but now he is full blown, head over heals, wild about the horses.  Since he is allowed and encouraged to vent his zeal on Ebony, she is the object of his desires. Grandma and I have been hoping for a horse crazy grandchild for a long time.  For a while, it appeared Emily, Ethan's sister might be horse crazy, but it is hard these days to for a kid to be able to make the commitment necessary to abandon most other pursuits and focus with the intensity necessary to win the confidence of a horse.  Time is the only way to truly bond with a horse.  Riding, brushing, feeding, cleaning stalls, and just hanging out
are all necessary to form the partnership with a horse that is so rewarding to both man and beast. 
When I was young, I was "horse crazy".  This was a very unfortunate condition for a kid that lived in the middle of a small city.  My uncle had a farm and boarded horses, but at the time, he didn't know I was "horse crazy" and I didn't know he could have used my help.  Actually, when I was about twelve, I tried to help him bale hay.  My job was to ride along on the hay wagon and stack the hay as the baler dropped them on the hay wagon.  Unfortunately, I had hay fever and despite the three hankies which were soaked by continuously explosive discharges from every opening on my face, I couldn't stop sneezing.  I was a pitiful mess and after a while it became painfully clear to all that I was destined to be a disappointment as a hay stacker.
A couple of things happened two years later that brightened my future as an aspiring horseman.  The United States Food and Drug Administration approved "Contac" as an over the counter allergy medicine and my mom started working at International Resistor Company where, as fate would have it, a wonderfully timid horse owner worked next two her.  She had a "green broke" young mare that needed to be ridden more than she could find time to do.  My mother, bless her, suggested she had a "horse crazy" fourteen year old son who would love to help her out.  In those days, fourteen year olds were kept out of trouble by being given jobs that required athleticism and a certain amount of danger to keep it interesting.  Fourteen year olds were young enough heal quickly, were not supplying the family with any meaningful income and were therefore ideal for tasks that could be mildly dangerous if attempted by someone in their mid thirties.  Putting miles on a young horse is just the sort of thing  at which they excel. 
Well that horse and I had many exciting adventures, most of which I thought would be of little interest to my parents or the horse's owner so I never mentioned them.  Consequently, I rode that horse so much, if I thought something the horse would do it.  When you ride that much, you are not thinking of riding at all.  You and the horse just become one. It is an indescribable feeling and I have always hoped to provide one of my grandkids with the opportunity to experience it.  So when Ethan started to become "horse crazy" Grandma and I were both ecstatic.  (Did I mention Grandma was "horse crazy"?)
As a result of Ethan's new interest in horses, he and I saddled up "Eb" and Belle a couple of weeks ago.  The snow was still deep and after throwing Ethan up on "Eb", I trudged over to the mounting rock (used by "old horsemen" around here) and struggled to get on.  That rock must have been heaved up by the frost, I don't remember it being so high. Anyway when I threw my leg over the saddle Belle let out a squeal of objection for some reason but offered no resistance.  (She has a nice "crow hop" which she has on occasion used to spice up a ride and see if your hat and glasses are on securely.)  The saddle had shrunk since I last sat in it and I fit in it so tight that my stomach rested on the saddlehorn.  Slowly it dawned on me that I must have gained weight.  We road and I offered a few pointers to Ethan and a couple of hours slipped by.  Finally, I decided if I was going to get off, I had better do it soon or my knees would not support me when I did get off.  After, Ethan jumped off and bounced around to put his tack away.  I hobbled around putting mine away,
I was feeling a little old and overweight. I went in the house and plopped in my chair at the table.  Kris had the computer on and said "look I got a video of you and "E" riding.  "Grandpa and Grandson riding together, pretty cool huh?"  She hit the play button and a picture of Ethan and I riding away from the camera came on the screen.  No wonder Belle squealed---I was "huge".  I bulged over the back of the saddle and out the sides.  I could still feel where the saddle horn had bounced my gut.
My classic moment for the ages with my Grandson and I am a blimp!
I was going to have to change my eating habits.  I thought they were just about perfect.  "Eat all you want whenever you want."  How can you improve on that?   I recalled an incident of a few years ago when we were having dinner with a friend.  He had been to the doctor and gotten the "you need to lose weight" lecture and had replied "I might die of something Doc---but it won't be starvation!"
Well, perhaps I had taken that pearl of wisdom a bit too much to heart. Slowly I resolved to lose weight.  (The thought still makes me shudder.) 
I told Kris I was going to diet.  She smiled sweetly.  She can be so irritating when she smiles like that. It was the "I know you believe you are going to diet smile, but I know you won't last a day" smile.  You know the one. So it was going to be that way. Well that really deepened my resolve.
 Still smiling she asked "What diet are you going on?"
"The one where I stop eating like a pig diet" I replied.  "You going to diet too?"
Her smile broadened. This was her "I can beat you at anything, anytime anywhere smile" 
"Sure," she replied and started giggling.
We began that day at that moment.  To say we cut back would be an understatement and the diet started in a spirit of cooperation and encouragement and I am sure if we could both lose the same amount on the same day the competitive forces that caused the first bit of underhanded diet tricks would never have started.   
The first mornings weigh in was disappointing.  Our scale obviously weighs 10lbs heavier than your true weight, but since it is the only scale we have we took note of our starting weights.  This sets the bench mark for future weight loss.  As a dieter, you can't look at where you are today.  That information would be almost as depressing as your starting weight.  Instead you look at the amount you have lost.  This is the number that scores your dieting and hopefully rewards your efforts faster than the urge to eat something big any juicy or gooey turns your iron will into mush.  Since we are together and mostly at the farm, it is easy to control your meals.  We both ate the same things and in roughly the same amounts.  I might have an extra boiled egg in the mornings.  At lunch we would have a piece of fruit.  In the afternoon we might have two small pieces of cheese and two crackers. At night we would have a salad with less meat than I would drop off my plate onto the floor in the good old days.  That's it.  If you get to the point of starving you can have a piece of fruit. 
After an almost interminable day one and night one, we jumped on the scale, each of us lost at least a lb.  This pattern went on for several days.  Kris actually was ahead for the first five days.  One day I happened to take the lead.  I might have lost 6lbs to her 5lbs.  That night Kris dished up the meat onto the salads and I got a little more than she did.  I thought she was being kind until the next days weigh in.  I hadn't lost any weight. Zero, nada, zip.  She, on the other hand had lost over a pound and was now in the lead at seven pounds.  She remained in the lead for six more days and beat me to TEN pounds by several days.  It occurred to me that I was being sand bagged by her generosity at the evening meal.  I began to pay more attention to how things were split.  Suddenly fairness became my passion.  Soon, I too had made it to the magic 10lb mark and we were even again. Then in a pivotal moment, I lost enough to claim eleven pounds and she had stalled at ten.  She went back to bed in the "throes of deep depression".  After awhile I felt she had wallowed in self pity long enough and said in what I thought was clearly a joking manner, "come on chubby time to get up."
Some things in life are not to be joked about.  Poor weight loss days evidently fall into that category and calling your wife chubby is probably poor judgment regardless of how good your comedic delivery is.  Things went from white hot to near arctic conditions around here and Kris has resorted to the unthinkable and unfair tactic of secretly working exercise into her daily routine to boost her weight loss. 
Grudgingly, I have been trying to walk at least as much as she does since I can't let her get too far ahead or I won't beat her to twenty pounds.  I am not sure how this is going to end but the war continues and surprisingly I already feel better.  I am able to bend over with out my heart being squeezed and blood squirting out both ears. By now I am sure I would have quit if Kris wasn't so competitive.  I am not very competitive.  I just don't want to get beat by a girl.  I can't see how this ends well, but I am not going to worry about anorexia until I am under two hundred pounds. She is so stubborn.