February 13th, 2004


(no subject)

So now it's been a week since I officially went all SBD on my sorry ass. I bought the book on pretty much a whim mid-last week because, among other things, I'd like to break my carb binging habits. Who would have thought that two Halloweens ago, stocking up on all the cheap post-holiday candy would have had such a discernible impact on my body's cravings? I've always been um, Sugar Active*, but it would appear grabbing a handful of chocolate any time I'm hungry isn't actually good for me, after all. It was some crazy slope-like-thing where 2 months of pure refined bliss spawned a very naughty eating pattern. So now I'm trying to stage an intervention and get back to normal.

The first hurdle of these diet books to bound boldly over is the tendency to fatten them up with very fancy-ass cuisinely recipes. No, I will not be cooking Cherry Snapper Ceviche. No, I will not be cooking Poached Salmon with Cucumber-Dill Sauce. No, your filling the meal suggestion guide with stuff like that does not make me feel better about restricting myself, it just gets in the way of what I really want: sensible stuff to make any time. Give me the equivalent of grilled cheese and PBJ and I'll be more than happy. Food I'll have around the house, recipes I won't have to buy from the ground up. In my opinion nothing encourages failure so much as daunting recipes that make the common person say "Fuck this, I'm making a ricebowl" in the middle of it all. Stop trying to prop the idea up with illusions of grandeur.

I haven't felt any different so far, despite being perfectly strict. Occasional bouts of hunger, but that's all about bad planning on my part when I know I'm gonna be out and less able to access doable food, yet haven't gotten into the habit of either eatting before I leave or bringing something along. Yesterday I got pretty fatigued, but again that was my own planning kind of issue, since I realized mid afternoon that I hadn't eaten anything since the evening before. (Not a diet thing, a sleepover then go out in the morning thing.) Other than the occasional eyeing of the tub of oatmeal cookies, it's been pretty smooth. And by "pretty smooth", I mean sometimes I'm really fucking sick of meat and eggs and end up making a meal like a bunch of cut-up turkey with hot sauce on the same plate with creamed spinach and end up thinking "Wtf, let's mix it all together!"**, but it's just the tedium of the first phase, I guess. Not hard, but annoying.

I'm not going to make a food-related filter because I don't expect to be talking about it much, other than the newfound joy of bitching all the time, everywhere. Walking through Reading Terminal Market yesterday was pure, agro bliss. "Stupid candy!" "Stupid pastries!" "Stupid candy again!" Oh yes. Muttering is my anti-drug. My partner in crime. That, and looking at stuff like a huge chunk of marinated mozzerella and making snide comments about how that's a perfectly healthy dinner. (I know, I tend to mix metaphors between SBD and Atkins. I try not to let reality get in the way of my snarkiness.)

*For example, I used to put two full spoonfuls of sugar into a glass of soda sometimes.

**Which worked out pretty well, actually.
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