Dieting is probably a strong word. I have been trying to improve the overall healthy-ness of my lifestyle.
My new apartment has changed things; I no longer walk three miles (uphill) every time I go to or from the office. I miss having absolutely no fat on my legs, but there's not much I can do about that aside from maybe doing the old walk just out of sheer spite. Or getting rid of my chair and working at my desk in horse stance.
On the positive side, I can also get home and back in a matter of minutes (rather than hours), and so cooking at home is more of an option than it used to be. I love cooking... At least, I used to love cooking, back when I did it.
I took a while, but I seem to have figured out rice again. It's only got the two ingredients, one if you only count the water, since rice itself is an ingredient. It's all about finding the right ratio of water, stove temperature, and extra space left in the pot to keep it from constantly boiling over. That, and finding something healthy-ish to add to it so it seems like you're eating something tasty.
I've been amused by the whole "Low Carb" thing (the operatic movie theater ads for low carb coke seem to be a good indicator of how far it's gone) but I can't really do that. Any diet where you try to trick your body into thinking that it's starving is not compatible with high impact exercise and my pitiful attempts to build muscle mass.
There was a time, not even all that long ago, when none of this was a problem. I was living at the old apartment, doing The Walk, and getting home in time for dinner, and cooking healthy stuff with vegetables.
I'm not sure what it is, though the common theme is having a woman in my life.
Most recently, a certain platonic roommate who just insisted on cooking healthy (and cheaply) and bugged me to not stay in the office all night.
And before that, there was a pointedly non-platonic girl who, despite her on-and-offish-ness (editor's note: Is that a word?) made me want to run home and cook dinner and bake dessert every night. And I did... And we watched foreign films and argued about symbolism and art until we'd end up... well... So, for months, I slept like a rock, got up early, and came into work with a spring in my step and a cheerful smile on my face, and made my coworkers wonder if I had finally gone off the deep end, just gearing myself up to visit a post office or community church or something and be on TV in that "Dear god, the humanity" sort of way.
But no, I was in love with the world, and and would be until... well, you already know, if you're reading this, or if you know anything about women.
(ahem. To be less misogynistic, you know anything about me and the women I tend to get involved with.)
So yeah. Dieting. But nothing burns carbs like hot monkey love.