Monday, October 4, 2010

Sunday, 10/3/10:

WEIGHT before eating today:  155.0

Daily Calorie Goal:  1200 or less
Total calories eaten today:  Over 2000.  (What?!  After gorging the last two nights, I lose 2.5 pounds over-night?!  WHATEVS.)

It just goes to show you how whack the Carb-Addict's Diet really is.  I still believe everything that this diet professes, to this day.  It's scary-accurate.  And it's SO bizarre!  You eat like an Atkin or a Zoner or a South Beachie all day (a.k.a. AVOID CARBS!), and then pig out for an hour at suppertime!  EVERY DAY!  It sounds like the Biggest Lie Ever Told.  But I'm living proof that this crackpot theory has some cred to it.

I don't want to laugh because she doesn't know this answer.  But how can she NOT?!
I am lucky in the sense that I have little trouble, most days, eating extremely light between the hours of 7:00 a.m. and about 4:00 p.m.  Sometime around 4:00, however, The Beast arrives.  He wants his @#$*^ carbs, and he wants them RIGHT THE @#$*^ NOW.

So, I indulge the cravings.  For an hour.  Every day.  I eat whatever.  I look forward to it all day, and I do not disappoint The Beast.  

The problem is...

The Beast has a brother.  His name is "Late-Night-Cravings," and he is Evil Personified.  This asshat is harder to satisfy.  Sometimes, it takes an entire box of Good & Plenty, a whole bag of microwave popcorn, AND either a can of Coke Classic or a Mike's Classic Margarita, or BOTH, to get him to vacate.  Trust me.  I don't joke around when it comes to Late-Night-Cravings.  Unfortunately, the only way to kill this monster before it derails your perfect calorie-counted day is to go to bed at 5:00 p.m., right after your Carb-Addict's-Reward-Meal-Fiesta.  Again, you don't want to risk being awake when Late-Night-Cravings rears it's ugly fat head.  Once you're in it's clutches, it's @#$*^ game OVER.

Today ended badly.  I had already eaten 1915 calories by 1:00 p.m.  NOT GOOD.  I was firmly in the clutches of a sniffling, dripping, mucous-y cold, and I felt like utter shite.  It was all I could do to punch the buttons on the microwave as I heated up my second luscious frozen meal of the day.  I'm fairly fearful for tomorrow's calorie-counting prospects, because when I feel this crappy I tend to eat weird things.  Like entire bags of things without paying attention.  Or handfuls of little individual bags of things.  I lose track of time; lose track of "food reality" when I'm in a "sickie-fog."  

It's not that I don't care about my diet when I'm sick.
It that I don't care how fat I am when I'm sick - because I'm still @#$*^ sick!
Sue me.  And while you're at it, I wouldn't refuse some Funyuns and a Coke.

Maybe this would work for me, since I'm such an exercise-phobe!

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