I went to a new play this afternoon, Five Faces of Evelyn Frost (original title Five Faces of Camille Brunelle, 2012), by Guillaume Corbeil (b. 1980), translated from the French by Steven McCarthy, directed by Claude Poissant, for a coproduction with Théatre Français de Toronto. And that's all I'm going to say right now. Soon I plan to do an assessment of the current theatre that I have seen over the past year. I have to think some more about the plays I have seen before I pass (harsh) judgment.

And here I am, struggling to tell a story in a dramatic form. It's taking up an enormous portion of my time and it's entirely on spec, no hope of fortune, and even if, no hope of fame. We go on, we go on.

What would I rather do? Years ago now when my husband died, my best advice for coping with grief was this: "Have a reason to get out of bed in the morning." It holds true for coping with age, too. Here's another one, by someone you may remember, if you're old enough:

"After all, tomorrow is another day."

No, no, this is too banal. It’s the last thing I want to consider. But. This is different. I mean, I’ve been dieting all my life, well, not always really DIETING, but mostly being careful, trying to say no, except when I didn’t. I keep saying just think what I would look like if I didn’t keep trying - a little. I could pass an exam on calories or (Weight Watcher) Points. I abandoned WW a couple of years ago. Have the points given way to some other kind of calculation?

I love food. I love to cook. Some of you know my joke about my four Basic Food Groups: chocolate, garlic, champagne and broccoli. Not entirely a joke.

Why, then, my banal, predictable, boring surrender? I seem to be celebrating March by launching into Whole30, the food régime closely related to the paleo diet, so I understand. One eschews the word diet, though there are certainly rules and regulations and recipes very similar to a diet. Briefly: no bread, no sugar, no alcohol, no legumes, and no dairy. Sort of kills my four basic rules, except for the broccoli. The program claims that it will re-set your clock – no – chemistry, but you must be absolutely rigid in your obedience, I auld say abstinence.

This time I’m not doing it to lose weight and maybe it (they?) isn’t either, because it tells you not to go near a scale for the month. Instead, it promises improved sleep patterns, increased energy, clearer thinking, and better walking (lowered joint pain), all benefits I would, hope to enjoy.

Of course, I am suffering withdrawal symptoms. I miss chocolate even more than I miss wine, and cheese and oatmeal porridge, too. On the other hand, maybe I will develop an addiction to coconut water.

It’s too soon to tell. It’s not even the Ides of March yet (March 15). I look forward to not hurting so much when I walk but even more to a creative spurt in this screenplay I am working on. I'll let you know if I lose any weight.