(the world may never know)
As I've said before, the first two weeks are the worst. John practically had to sit on me Sunday night to keep me from driving myself to Taco Bell (Toxic Hell) and ordering my weight in gorditas. And I'm not even all that fond of Taco Bell. But those cravings have subsided somewhat, which is good. Once all this sugar and carb shit washes out of my system, the better off I will be.
In the meantime, I've learned to love coffee. It's pretty much the sweetest thing I can have. I have a Keurig machine, and they have lots of flavored coffee K-cups and so I get a chocolate-yish flavor, make 2 cups, add a shitpot full of Splenda (seriously, I expect to start growing a tail or some such appendage any day now) and an obnoxious amount of whipping cream. It's tasty as hell, as it should be with that much artery-clogging shit in it. But hey -- LC is about learning to get really creative, for one thing, and learning to enjoy what you *can* have for another.
You have to have an inner monologue with yourself (yes, I read self-help books so I know all the jargon). It's not so much the cringe-inducing mantra of "Nothing tastes as good as thin feels!" (always uttered by some chipper bitch with a 22 inch waist), but rather, "I'm not eating this motherfucking cookie because I know if I do, not only will my ass explode, I'll feel sluggish and mostly ill."
I think sugar is the devil. A delicious devil, but the devil, along with most other white shit, excluding heavy cream. And milk, my beloved milk. They have a low-carb milk floating around on the market, except it's not milk. They can't even call it that. It's a "dairy beverage." I've had it, and it's nast-a-roni. Milk is one of the things I miss the most on LC. Anyway, some people can handle a little bit of sugar now and then. They can have a fun size Snickers (which is different things to different people -- for example, my idea of a fun size Snickers is one the size of my coffee table) and be done with it. Me, I'm like the Mogwai > water > Gremlins thing. I just can't have any of it or I turn into a miserable, reptilian creature. Not really. (Sort of.)
(I feel more like The Incredible Bulk....and judging from this photo, I bet his hemorrhoids are awful.)
Is it hard to get excited about a roast and spinach salad? Yes. But at least, unlike some LC programs (I'm looking at you, South Beach), I don't have to spread fake shit on it. I can have butter, the (solid form) nectar of the gods. And real Ranch dressing, because fat free Ranch dressing should never, ever have existed. It's worse than horrible. It's an affront to all food. Like fat-Monica said about fat-free mayonnaise on Friends: "It's NOT mayonnaise!"
(Yes. Yes, this is a ranch dressing fountain, most likely at a wedding. A few thoughts: this wedding was in the South, probably Texas. Also? I'm surprised there aren't more fat people hovering around this thing. And? I'm totally having one at my wedding.)
It is, however, easy to get excited about not looking like I belong in stirrups in a maternity ward. Now that's something to write home about.
Until next time, peace bitches.