As of this morning, I have lost 6 pounds. Well, six pounds on one of our scales, and only 5 pounds on the other. Seriously, though? I have always suspected that scale to be mean-hearted and stupid.
As of this morning, I also feel like total dog shit.
As of a half hour ago when I ate dinner, I can only eat a small amount of deli sliced ham and a slice of tomato before I start to feel like that man in the movie Seven...you know, the one who was forced to eat until he literally ate himself to death? Even though before I sat down to eat, I was so hungry that I might have eaten my own foot, if I was sure there wouldn't be too many carbs in it.
As of Wednesday morning, I was introduced to the idea that carbohydrates have a secret function as being an amazing alcohol absorption tool. Which means that if you aren't eating carbs, you probably shouldn't drink alcohol. (they tell you not to drink in the book, but that rule seemed stupid to me).
As of Wednesday, around happy hour time, I conveniently forgot all about those ideas.
As of right now, despite everything, I'm still glad that I'm doing this.
6 pounds is good, and every morning when I get on the scale and see another pound gone, I think that it might be possible to continue eating plain old grilled chicken with no rice or anything at every meal for the rest of my life...
or at least until I lose ten more pounds.
I do not care about my health, people.
I care about my waist.
p.s. number 2
I'm just kidding. You know that, right?