For some reason I am fascinated with diet avatars. I've been messing around online trying to get one to look like my body for over an hour. Mind you, I have a final exam to study for and it is ALSO almost midnight and I DO have to work at two client's houses tomorrow. So what the heck do I think I'm doing? Especially since I tried to make a body look like mine LAST night about midnight?
Clearly, this is a waste of my time. All I've come up with is Jennifer Anniston, several months pregnant. Those are might be HER petite thighs and knees but they are clearly not MINE. That might be her petite little head, but it's most certainly not MINE. Moreover, even the hair is too petite to be mine.
Now that I have uploaded these, maybe I will be done with it, like eating dairy that I am NOT supposed to have because it will make me feel bad tomorrow (both physically and emotionally). I guarantee I will look at this tomorrow and wonder why it was worth missing any sleep at all.
I used to have a client who ordered every diet product that came advertised in his mailbox. I would try to talk him out of it, explaining that the claims showed correlations, not proofs. But he wanted so badly to believe, so he would wait until I left and order them anyway. He had cupboards and drawers filled with bottles of half used miracle products.
I think this diet avatar lust is like his wishful thinking. It's fun making "me" instantly smaller. Except it doesn't look like me, so I'm not at all convinced.
While I was up on a rickety step stool trying to get a heating pad out of the top shelf of a client's closet today, I heard some woman on a game show give an answer that made me laugh and almost lose my balance. The question? "How much money would you pay to lose ten pounds instantly?" She immediately answered, without a second's hesitation, "One THOUSAND dollars!"
A thousand dollars. Not ten, not even a hundred. A THOUSAND.
While I was driving home, I wondered what my price was. For ten pounds, probably not very much. Ten really wouldn't change my life much. To look like I did when I was holding that chicken again, without the hangy skin around the belly and thighs I know I would have if I instantly lost 20 pounds? Well, for that I'd probably pay ten dollars.
Maybe twenty. Thirty? Who am I kidding? The interview is in three weeks. I'd shell out two or three hundred and hope my husband didn't notice the money was missing.