I am now crankier than ever. If that was even possible.
This stupid diet has me angry. A N G R Y.
So far today…
- I read today that for the first two weeks of this diet, I cannot have ANY alcohol. Not even no-carb alcohol like vodka. Or gin. Or fizzy gin drinks. Um, okay. Scratch that shit and start over again. Fuck me running.
- Was chewing on my thumb in contemplation this afternoon. Then I found myself Googling “How many calories in a cuticle?” I’m officially obsessed.
- You know it’s BAD when your dogs’ Beggin’ Strips start smelling good to you.
- Treated myself to dinner out tonight instead of boring broccoli and grilled chicken or fish at home. So what the hell do I have? Mixed greens with grilled chicken. No croutons. Only a sad and tiny slice of whole wheat bread. I cried just a little.
- I’ve started calling my one allowed cinnamon Altoid “dessert.”
- Wrote a crazy blog post last night that sounded like I was high on crack and feeling bugs crawl under my skin. Promptly deleted it this morning and had to check if I had ordered Godiva chocolates in my no-carb-induced-haze. Or three Kate Spade bags. I probably would have eaten all of them when they arrived if I had actually ordered them.
- I smell bread everywhere I go. And cake. And I don’t even LIKE cake all that much.
- When I am having conversations with strangers in stores, et cetera (and yeah, I do that on a regular basis), I find myself asking them, “Were you just looking at my gut? Were you?” I also do that with loved ones. The loved ones tend NOT to walk away after I’ve asked that question – they run. The strangers are a little more polite about it.
- Absolute WORST part of it all? I haven’t lost a single fucking pound. Shoot me now, please.