Cinch It

My pants are falling down.

All day long - whether it is my jeans, my cargo pants or my black dress pants - I am hoisting them back up around my hips and bum.

This is a new phenomenon for me. Normally I'm one of those girls who have to do deep knee bends, squats and half splits when I put on a pair of just-washed pants.

You know how tight something can be when you throw it on straight out of the dryer, right?

Well, something happened, and now all my pants are probably a few pounds away from being around my ankles.

Two weeks ago, I had a significant health scare. I was preparing dinner for my dear friend Bluegrass Brit - Taco Night. I hadn't eaten anything for lunch (and the lettuce and veggie salad I did have wasn't that hearty).

There I was, buzzing around a skillet of browning beef, diced tomatoes and sliced avocado, when I started sweating. My dear friend was chatting away, but I just couldn't be bothered to engage in the conversation. I stared around at all the fixings and was overwhelmed to even assemble my own tacos.

That last one was a significant sign, considering I'm a girl who has never turned down a scrap of food.

A trip to the doctor revealed that I may be on my way to developing diabetes.

the doctor put me on a prescription for Metformin and ordered me to test my glucose twice a day for a month.

Apparently, pre-diabetes is completely reversible - once you get the Big D, it's not.

On my own, I started pursuing a healthier diet. No hard and fast rules, other than I insist on eating breakfast every morning. Normally a bowl of Special K with skim milk (the only kind of milk I've ever preferred), I know this little step helps me fire up the metabolism while I'm watching Good Morning America before heading to work.

I'm paying more attention to portion control and the number of fruits and vegetables I'm eating. Like I said, I'm not following any official "diet," and I'm allowing myself to fulfill the occasional craving when they strike. Just yesterday, my busy schedule got in the way of my eating at "regularly scheduled" meal times, and I drove by a Burger King.

The thought of a charbroiled Whopper with cheese made my head spin.

A trip through the drive-thru satisfied a craving that had the potential to snowball into an unpredictable moment down the road. Ever had one of those moments where you've scarfed down an entire frozen pizza on your own? Me, too.

I'm trying to avoid those moments, and that's why it's okay in my book to thwart diet tragedy with a Whopper now and then.

The rest of the time, it's skim milk, cereal, plentiful fruits and veggies, low-fat yogurt and other healthy choices.

And as much as I love a good cocktail/glass of wine/pint of beer, I'm trying to curtail my imbibing, knowing only too well how much those drinks add up to massive calories.

I've got an appointment in the weeks ahead with a dietitian who will provide me with a more concrete plan to drop weight (I need to lose AT LEAST 40 pounds to be back in a place where I can wear all my cute clothes).

A hesitant exerciser - I plan on hammering out a regular walking routine once Cincinnati's wacky weather settles down to something decidedly spring-like.

My pants are falling down.

And I don't mind a bit.