09.24.2004 - 5:55 p.m.
Friday
I've spent a week and a half on the WW Diet, aka Operation Less Junk, Smaller Trunk!, and I have been diligently staying under my daily allotment of 20 points. I've been measuring out measly little half cup servings of cereal, chowing down on raw veggies, and guzzling aspartame-laced soda. I'm walking around sporting a palpable cloud of Eau de Newman's Own 94% Fat Free Popcorn parfum, because that's about the only thing I am allowed to eat in a portion larger than a Post-it note. Perhaps hardest of all, I've taken a pass on ALL of Workplace's meals, even when it was spicy curry chicken night. Even when it was quesadillas.
How much weight have I lost? Not a damn ounce.
Did I mention that I've gone to the gym, like not just once, but like, a LOT? That I've lifted weights and ellipted ellipticals; that I've worn leggings in PUBLIC?
Not.
One.
Ounce.
The only reason I'm not flinging myself off the nearest tall building (or diving into the nearest box of Deli Rye Triscuits) is that my clothes do feel slightly roomier, so presumably some tiny metamorphosis is taking place. But dear god, shouldn't the scale be showing progress? There's only so many baby carrots a girl can eat before she snaps, people, and if the scale hasn't budged by my next weigh-in, I'm NOT going to be responsible for my actions.
One of the main reasons I want to get in better shape is to turn the volume down on the constant voice in my head that's criticizing the way I look. I know from experience that it's damn near impossible to turn that fucker on mute, but the better I feel about myself the more I can ignore the internal Howard Cosell play-by-play of how my ass looks ("Folks-she's-just-SPILLING-from-those-size-10's").
However, when you're dieting, all you think about, besides FOOD, is how you look! It's like ME ME ME, all the time ME, with a side serving of ME (mmmm....side serving). A person on a diet is insanely boring, is what's I'm saying. I really respect all those people who manage to produce weight loss blogs that are interesting to read, because I can tell you that my own brain is a barren wasteland of points-counting and naval-gazing (literal naval, literal gaze).
And here it is Friday and there is no beer, and there are no nachos. Sigh...
Have a good weekend, you guys. Send fat-free ranch dip.
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