This morning I woke up, tangled in a cocoon of sheets. My body looked different to me. My thighs were three times the size I remembered and it took effort to pull on shorts over my chunky thighs. I had the sudden realization that the family scale must be off- I had thought I was roughly 110-118 pounds when all this time I had to be at least 40 pounds heavier than that. I felt the world crash around me, thinking that life as I knew it would end. I also was distraught thinking about how safety is one of the reasons (that and being lazy) that I don't jog here. Then I remembered this thing I had once heard of, dieting! I went to my good friend, Google, sure that she would have the answer. She told me to stop eating like its feeding time at the zoo. Seemed simple enough. Normally I eat 5-7 pieces of toast, or 10-12 pancakes, depending on which one my mom makes that day. I never have both on the same day, because if there are pancakes, I will always choose them. Today we had toast, so I limited myself to two pieces. I thought this was a fairly reasonable amount, I've heard legends of people only eating two pieces of toast, so I know it must be true. After breakfast, I was feeling great about how my diet was going- that is until about an hour later. I normally shovel down as many servings as possible of oreos, gummy worms, skittles, and whatever other snacks I have in my room between breakfast and lunch. This insures, in my logic, that my blood sugar is high enough for me to properly complete my homework. I somehow managed to battle my addiction, although I must admit that no homework was attempted this morning. Nor anything even remotely productive. All I could think about was food, or at least the distant memories I had of it. After what seemed like days rather than hours, I was able to eat lunch. I realize I'm a fast eater-Anna often reminds me of the dangers of overeating, obesity, and shoveling food down my throat so fast that I'll feel sick. I always give her a slight puzzled look, and remind her I was going to eat all that food no matter what speed it goes in at. Whether I enjoy it or not. I turned for Google again, displeased with my morning's amount of struggle. Since I'm expected to eat whatever my host mom prepares, this means my main consumption variable is how quickly I eat my food. By lunch I was starving. However I read online that if you chew your food 35-50 times, it will help you feel fuller faster. Unsure of how much I normally chew, I thought this seemed worth a shot. Lunch consisted of white rice and potatoes, and as I took my first bite I tried to really savor it, and to chew slowly. By chew seven, I was wondering if some people actually did this at every meal, and by chew twenty my food had turned to mush. Why anyone would want to chew on semi liquid food is beyond me, but I found out that taking more than five or six chews is not my forte. My new goal was to chew my food fifteen times before swallowing it, but it took me so long to eat that I vowed to myself never again to take on such a time consuming task. So, why I've learned from my few hours on a diet is its better to be fat and happy than miserable and only think about food. The following picture is from a lunch out with some friends. I finished my food way before everyone else and the waiter brought me a piece of cake. I think he must have thought I hadn't eaten in a week.