Yet another vague initiative has been launched in my life: Lose weight, dammit.
Like most of my initiatives, the details are sketchy but there are many different interesting ideas out there. Of particular interest is the idea of keeping a journal of what you eat—I like to write, after all, and it sounds almost like the preliminary steps of setting a budget. Once I sat down and realized where my money went over the course of a month, I was much better able to see where I could cut corners and, believe it or not, put some money in the bank (or at least not be stunned when I had $3.59 in my account just before payday).
It occurs to me, though, that the "standard" way of doing such a thing is pretty lame. I mean, just a list of what you eat—what’s the fun in that? Consider what would be on there as of 8pm the first day of this program:
6:30am: One cup coffee, with sugar
7:30am: One cup coffee, with sugar
1:00pm: One pear
6:00pm: 3 ritz crackers
Water: 7 glasses
BORING, right? I think it would be much more entertaining in a narrative format.
6:30am: Arrive at work, fumble over security code, make coffee. Thank god for the individual coffee maker, because I can’t pour water this early.
7:30am: More coffee. I’m still the only one in the office. Please make the bad men stop.
10:00am: Stifle momentary urge to take a long john from the big box of donuts someone brought in. I’ve been at work for almost 4 hours. Drink water instead of breakfast. I’m feeling good about this whole new plan…it’s not so tough, right?
12:00pm: 1/3 of the way through what turns into a 3 hour meeting. Have another two glasses of water. Starting to feel some genuine hunger pangs.
1:00pm: Walk past box of donuts for the fifth time today and get a pear out of the kitchen. A friggin’ PEAR. It tastes surprisingly good…perhaps there’s something to this idea of eating things that have been grown rather than processed.
1:05pm: Finish pear, look balefully at the core, suppressing desire to gnaw off own arm as a second course. Combination of interminable meeting and mind-numbing hunger enough to make me grumpier than usual.
4:00pm: Three more glasses of water later, going through carbohydrate withdrawal. The donuts have been in the kitchen for almost 8 hours now, and still they tempt me. I resist, but only after a longing stare that borders on the disturbing.
4:30pm: Manage to leave work at a decent hour, armed with box of tic-tacs and a bottle of water for commute home. I will not order pizza tonight. I will not order pizza tonight. I will not order pizza tonight.
6:00pm: Eat three Ritz crackers instead of entire box of cookies I am staring at. Curse the fact that the West Wing’s season finale was last week and I won’t be able to see it for 4 more months. Eyes briefly tear up with thoughts of missing the show for that long. Clearly, my entire sense of proportion is screwed up.
6:30pm: I have an epiphany! The emotional side of many women is defined not by hormones or their innate sensitivity, but the fact that they diet more often than men. If I can continue this project, will I magically be more in tune with my feminine side? Somehow this disturbs me even more than the way I was lusting after the donuts this afternoon.
6:45: Realize that the combination of Ritz crackers and pear might have had an adverse effect on my higher brain functions. Fuck it, I’m ordering a pizza.
Good style. Added links on my site