You are what you eat ... mmmmmm

The alarm clock radio touches off an internal battle every morning.

It's dark. It's cold. My husband and my little dog are warm.

Do I get dressed for the gym? Or do I adjust the alarm to go off in another hour?

I've learned this: If I don't go to the gym before work, I'm not going. For the first couple of weeks, I faithfully packed my gym clothes into a duffel bag and drove them from home to work and back again. It's totally a fantasy that I'll work 10 or 11 hours and then put my fat butt onto an elliptical trainer.

The one day I actually carried that duffel bag into the gym, I'd forgotten to bring any shorts.

Imagine the embarrassment of walking into a locker room, disrobing, redressing and walking back out the door. I'm surprised nobody called the cops.

I was counting on Neil, my hot personal trainer, to inspire me. The little thrill of possibly seeing him there, stolen glances across the pilates mat, etc.

It turns out his serious nature and addiction to organic food have rendered him completely uncrushworthy. I'm only seeing him sporadically now -- once a month just to take my fat percentage and test my balance and flexibility. Turns out I'm still almost completely composed of fat, but I can stand on my right foot almost indefinitely.

Not really the outcome I was looking for when I gave Neil $90.

The problem, apparently, is my diet. Neil has given me a CD about the benefits of organic food.

It's a nutrition researcher talking on the subject of "You Are What You Eat." I can't make it past the part where he says my vanilla latte today could turn into a cell that makes up my eyeball tomorrow.

Mmmmmmm. Latte eyeball.

Neil told me he doesn't eat anything that wasn't on the Earth 5,000 years ago. If something has an ingredient in it he can't pronounce, it doesn't go into his mouth.

"Do you eat potatoes?" I asked.

"I try to eat things with higher fiber," he said.

"But weren't potatoes on Earth 5,000 years ago?" I asked.

"Yes ...," he began.

"Never mind," I interrupted. "Where do you eat out? Say you and your friends want to celebrate something."

"Fortunately my girlfriend, who I'm very serious about, shares my feelings on caring for our bodies," he said. "Do you know about Evos?"

I know about Evos. It's an organic fast-food place down the street from where I live. Actual menu items include Airfries, Southwest Soy Taco and Evos American De'Lite, a vegan soy burger. The Other Half makes me go there sometimes. I can't imagine celebrating anything there, except release from a fat camp or asylum.

"What if you want to go somewhere really special?" I asked.

"Usually the deli at Nature's Finest Foods on Central Avenue," he said.

I pictured Neil and his hardbody girlfriend celebrating their anniversary, toasting each other with wheat grass and tofu at a deli table. Then they'd go back to his place for a hot session of looking at themselves in the mirror.

Seriously, I have to make fun to keep from crying.

Here I am a walking can of Crisco -- actually worse, because at least that's vegetable based -- and I can't envision a world without appletinis and hot wings.

In the meantime, another heavy girl from the gym and I have decided the only weight-loss solution is to get on "The Biggest Loser." They're taking applications. I realize we'll have to act even more neurotic and bizarre than we already do to make good candidates, but I'm willing to make that sacrifice.

I'd even eat a soy burger or two.

Heidi Hall is a former managing editor of the Southeast Missourian who now lives in St. Petersburg, Fla.