I don’t want to hear about your spring break diet. I mean it. I really don’t want to hear about your spring break diet. Hell, I don’t even want to hear about my spring break diet. I didn’t want to hear about your spring break diet back in October, when it started. But I’m your friend, so I nodded my head in agreement while you paraphrased an article you read on Goop that yammered on about “the benefits of going macrobiotic.” I didn’t even bat an eyelash when I asked you what macrobiotic meant and you said it “wasn’t important.”
I still didn’t want to hear about your spring break diet a month later in November. You had ditched the macrobiotic thing because it was “too restricting” and so instead went for the super casual combination of veganism and CrossFit. I kept my temper in check when you bitched about the fact that I declined to join your CrossFit gym so you could get ten percent off next month’s membership fee. Do you know how hard it was for me not to make a joke about how you probably wouldn’t even last a month at CrossFit? My ex-boyfriend cried after CrossFit once, okay? So I didn’t exactly have high hopes for your lululemon-clad ass.
To be fair, I did want to hear about your spring break diet in December. But that was only because you went off it. You decided that those those final last weeks of the semester were “way too stressful to be on a diet.” I whole heartedly agreed. Study breaks became competitions to see who could carbo load the fastest without bloating an additional two pant sizes. It was hard to say who was the winner and who was the loser in that game, but at least we had delicious fun. I didn’t even point out to you that the drunk food you ate (while sober) that month basically negated any diet progress you had made up until that point. Even when you continually tried to justify your actions by saying “I’m going home for break – I won’t be able to have this food for a whole month. I’m treating myself! You just don’t know how diets work. It’s not all about restriction!”
I didn’t intentionally trip you in January when we returned to school and you greeted me by saying “Ugh, I’m so bloated from the holidays and finals. I can’t believe you let me eat so much!” I did almost snap later that week, though, after I had begun my own spring break diet and you criticized my running form at the gym. However, I knew that speaking from a place of hunger-induced bitchiness could irreparably damage our friendship. So instead, I did the mature thing and didn’t tell you that your boob had popped out of its sports bar and was now a free agent. That’s what friendship is all about.
And now that spring break is just a week away, allow me to say: I still really, really, really, SERIOUSLY don’t want to hear about your spring break diet. I didn’t sign up to be on your diet with you. Diets, by their very nature, are singular endeavors. Your dieting does not make my life better in any way. If you eat nothing but sad, dry lettuce for three months, it does not somehow equate to me looking amazing in a bikini come March. So please, don’t involve me in this. Keep it to yourself and stay focused! Like Winston Churchill once said: “if you’re going through hell, keep going.”
Although, have you ever seen a picture of that man? He had clearly never been on diet..