I sleep well between days two and three, getting up to drain the bladder only twice. I woke up feeling positive and optimistic! Into the bathroom, strip down. Rub eyes. Focus.
- Muffin top - CHECK!
- Lumpy back fat - CHECK!
Turn sideways...yep, there it is!
- Perma-belly - CHECK CHECK!
Well, at least I can count on some things.
Same routine, I drain the bladder one last time, hope the other tank responds. Hmph. Disappointing. And I take a deep breath and step on the scale. And then off. And then on. See, my scales vary by a pound in either direction (usually down) so my routine is that I weigh multiple times, resetting between each attempt until I get the same weight two times. Only then am I satisfied that the evil thing is being precise.
Down a pound! A full pound from yesterday morning. 1.4 from Sunday. OK. I'm not going to lie, I would have liked more, but still feeling somewhat vindicated for my agony. Not takingWonder Soup for lunch today. It's all fruits and veggies (no bananas, no potatoes), and I decide I can save the Wonder Soup for dinner and not smell like onions and cabbage all day. So I take the two bags of veggies (one broccoli, one green beans), my water jug, the leftover grapes from Sunday's binge, a giant Fuji apple, and another bag of baby carrots.
I start the day in the cafeteria with two cups of melon and my apple. And I start pounding the water. Around 7:30, the flood gates open. All told, I will make 9 (NINE) trips to the bathroom today. And on trip two...the OTHER flood gates open. I'm not trying to be graphic here, but let's just say that the 'cleanse' part of the GM Diet/Cleanse is in full force. I had no idea that fruits and vegetables could produce that kind of...visual. Maybe it's flushing stuff out of my system that has been there for years. They say that red meat can stay stuck in your intestines for decades. And I've had a lot of decades. And a TON of red meat. Very weird. It seems to be unstoppable. And the bladder, oy vey the bladder. About every 45 minutes, I'm back in that bathroom. I wonder out loud to my co-workers about the strength of the wi-fi signal and consider setting up camp for the day.
I hold out until 9:30 before I break out the carrots after a fervent search in the company coffee shop for ranch dressing since I forgot mine. They don't taste good. I'm hungry. I'm ready to hurt someone I'm so hungry. I break out the grapes and before lunch have consumed all of them, plus about 20 baby carrots. The carrots are either dipped in chocolate, cheese, or wrapped in bacon. At least in my imagination. It helps. Don't hate.
At 10:45 I heat up the broccoli, find some salt and pepper, and eat while I'm daydreaming about broccoli dripping with butter. I finish all the chocolate-bacon-cheese-baby carrots in front of me. At 12:30 I'm really, truly, ready to hurt someone. The BFF and I wander to the cafeteria so she can eat food. On the way, a guy with a taco salad in a big crispy shell looked at me and smirked. Bastard. I could push him over the rail and watch him fall to his death, taco salad everywhere around him three stories down. As I wait next to the salad bar line, a flimsy ballerina picked through the radishes and beets to top her carefully measured lettuce mixture. I hate her. Who the hell puts beets on a salad? That's just dumb. I secretly hope her ballerina bun comes undone and it's all fake and really she's bald underneath.
I buy my Diet Coke and grump back to my kennel with the rest of the unfortunate cubicle-dwellers and I bury myself in work. The Diet Coke, once again, perks me up. My co-workers carefully tiptoe around me, but it's all in good fun. Around three I start to realize that I'm not really hungry. Still dissatisfied, but not hungry. I guess this is what it would be like if all the livestock in the world died from some horrible disease and there was no more meat or cheese. So when that happens, I'll be more ready than anybody else.
I head home for the fourth of July holiday, smack-dab in the middle of the workweek, trying to decide what to have for dinner. Wonder Soup? Or something else. I head to the store with the hubs for tomorrow's bucket-o-bananas and milk. And when I see the mounds of green and yellow and orange bell peppers, it hits me. FAJITAS!
I can have everything in it except meat and I am A-OK with that. The spices are probably alright. Maybe a tiny bit of sugar in that packet, but otherwise, just spices. I. Am. Brilliant. I feel like I've won a battle. I consume two onions, one large green pepper, one orange pepper and 6 roma tomatoes sauteed in a skillet sprayed with cooking spray and simmered in a slurry of fajita seasoning. It's really good. Not gonna lie.
I am satisfied for the night, might have a little more water, but feel armed for day four. ONWARD to bananas and milk day!!
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