An Open Letter To My Friend Who Is Dieting:

Dear Friend On A Diet,

I am so proud of you for making such a positive, health conscious change in your life. Also, you look hot. However, that does not mean that I want to know the calorie/fat/transfat content of the food I am CURRENTLY EATING.

I am trying to be very supportive of you, not asking you to share an order of nachos, not pushing you to match me beer for whatever low-carb crap you are drinking. This is what good friends do. And for this I am rewarded with a play by play of your diet and exercise habits, including handy tips for me! Ahem. There are several things I would like you to understand before I continue:

1. I understand. I have been a very successful dieter in the past, and I know how your every thought becomes consumed with what you will eat in the next meal, day, week. Been there, obsessed over that.

2. A follow up to #1: I KNOW all this. I have been a dieter. A good one. A well-researched one. What do I say when you tell me the fiber content of a cereal that I already know?! I don’t need to one up you, but if I express polite interest (“oh, really? Fascinating.”) it will only encourage you and make things worse for me, the disinterested yet diplomatic friend. Please, appreciate my situation, and help me avoid it.

3. The most important number yet: I am not on a diet. I probably should be, but I’m not. When you tell me what a difference cutting out all refined sugar made in your flab level AS I eat a cupcake, it makes me FEEL BAD. And fat. I know it’s a reflex, because it’s on your mind, but think it through before you say it, okay?

The real moral to this story? This is your diet, not mine. I want you to succeed, I really do, but we used to talk about…other things, right? Boys and bands and Barack Obama. These are the things upon which our friendship was based, not your pursuit of the elusive size double zero. Your increasing hotness and my love of peanut butter M&Ms should never stand in the way of that.

Love,

Gemma