So
I'm sitting here following a blissful sleep in, and the better version of that
- the relaxing lie-in - breakfasting on
toast with cream dunny( creamed honey for the uninitiated) , chilli covered
deep fried peanuts that frankly I will not likely stop eating till I hit the
bottom of the container, chocolate mud cookies with a Smiths chicken chips
chaser.
And
before you tell me about the heart attack in a meal that is, let me just say,
today I am going to eat whatever I want, whenever I want it, as it is my last
supper day and the above menu is only the tip of the iceberg.
Tomorrow,
in a quest to a) fit into an economy plane seat comfortably, b) fit into the
‘ride indicator’ that may insist I am too hefty to ride that 3 minutes of
excitement and indeed, c)to look as FAAAABULOUS as I can muster up before I hit
those US shores, I begin a strict regime of low to no carbs, high protein and
probably some pretty ‘touchy’ days as I transition from Carb Queen to health nut in as short a time as
possible for the benefit of all those around me.
Today
will involve rummaging to the bottom of my work bag to eradicate any and all
sugar laden goodies and lost chocolate bars to be replaced by hunger busting
sugar free mints and most likely almonds for nibbling.
Having
given up all soft drinks and in particular my beloved Coke about a month ago
now, I am spurred on to greater achievements in the dietary department – not to
mention the need to fit back into my favourite jeans. Or perhaps a new pair of favourite jeans ;)
…
So
the end of the day has arrived, nachos being my last supper, the days sugar high keeping me awake into the
wee hours of the morning, I am about to
bow down to the diet gods and toe the line for the next 65 days at least…
Urgggghhh…
sooo not looking forward to this… from memory the first week of doing the whole
‘no carb’ thing was excruciating as you go cold turkey of a staple ‘el cheapo’
food group that I’m still not sure I can go without.
Be
prepared for mood swings, an uncharacteristic snippyness and my mouth running at
light speed without first listening to the little halo clad voice on my
shoulder due to my frustration receptors being busy elsewhere in my brain and
no doubt fighting a fierce battle of wills with the little pitchfork guy on the
other shoulder …
On
its own, carb/sugar deprivation would be bearable, but like everyone, there are
everyday stresses to contend with, combined with the oh-so-safe anonymous crush
that I am inclined to indulge in, and then throw in a dose of ‘teenager under
the same roof’ and you have a cocktail that is closer to Molotov than
Margarita…
So
watch this space, I will either be svelte ( well, as close as I can get given
the time frame) and ready to partay in
the US of A…. or a complete wreck hell bent on culinary annihilation when I
step off that plane to make up for the previous 65 days.
Wish
me Luck :D
