I’m still working my way through Easter leftovers. We had chicken and ham, and I’ve been eating what I brought home on those amazing Arnold Sandwich Thins I blogged about earlier. I tried the multi-grain ones this time, and they’re great!

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I had chicken and a small amount of barbecue sauce on the sandwich thins, two deviled eggs and the mixed veggies. It wasn’t a lot, but I wasn’t that hungry. I had a big lunch (another sandwich, a dish frozen strawberries and pineapple chunks, yogurt and crackers) and then sampled two different pasta dishes at my afternoon assignment, at this really cute Mediterranean store, because I’m working on a story on the Mediterranean diet.

I didn’t have more than three or four forkfuls of either pasta dish, but I think that combined with my afternoon snack (a large apple and Laughing Cow light spreadable wedge) was enough to power me through the gym and leave without being ravenous.

Actually, I didn’t even finish all the veggies, partly because I’m finicky and mostly because I became engrossed in “The Biggest Loser.” I don’t follow it that closely, and while I like the show’s message, I have a problem with the way it’s done. They have them working out constantly, and they don’t have anything else to think about — of course eating healthfully isn’t going to be that hard.

Try doing it while you’re a college student, with beers and pizza and fried things everywhere, or when you’re working full time as a reporter who has to grab food between assignments and hope there’s enough time between meetings to hit the gym. I have no problem planning these things now, but when you first start, it’s rough.

Unless, of course, you are on “The Biggest Loser.”  Who couldn’t drop tons of weight the way they do it? It actually makes me a little sick to watch the weigh-ins because I can’t imagine dropping weight like that. But I’ve never had the luxury of doing nothing but working out and learning to cook, either.

Still, for all my qualms with the show, it’s like a trainwreck I can’t stop watching, and I usually end up crying, especially when the fat brother of the father-son team shows up, because he is usually crying. And I know exactly why. It’s because his dad and his brother have done the impossible, and he wants it that bad. And he knows he doesn’t know how to get from here to there.

What he doesn’t know, and won’t know until he begins, is just how far he has to go. If someone had told me four years ago that I would lose 100 pounds, I would have assumed I would be a tiny little thing. That I would have my Kelly Ripa arms and finally be free of the belly fat that has plagued me for as long as I can remember.

I’m not tiny. I still have arm fat and a gut. I’m between sizes 12 and 14, where some 14s are too big, especially in the hip and thigh, and no 12s fit right. My body is at the point where I can see what it will look like when I get there — but I am not there yet.

I am proud of what I’ve done and love my new healthy lifestyle. But watching “The Biggest Loser” reminds me of how far I’ve come — and how far I have to go. And sometimes, I’d just rather not think about it.

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