500 Calories or Bust

Today is day thirteen of ingesting a pithy 500 calories a day. I have lost 14.2 pounds. And yes, the 0.2 matters. No rounding down for this gal. I am beyond thrilled. It really hasn't been that hard. Lots of coffee and appetite curbing tea in the morning, protein, veg and fruit at lunch, flavoured water all afternoon and then a repeat of lunch for dinner. It's boring, for sure, but not all that difficult. To help matters, the weight comes off so quickly that it's easy to stay motivated. I only think about cinnamon toast or deep fried chicken a hundred times a day instead of a thousand.

Unfortunately, my breath could peel wallpaper. I'm not kidding. It's awful.

They tell you to drink water until you float to minimize this unpleasant side effect of ketosis but water is not a cure. It's a crappy bandaid. Brushing and flossing don't even put a dent in it. I've gargled Listerine until it stripped the flesh off the inside of my mouth and still, I'm Smelly Suzie. Dallas is just as bad. But it's okay. People naturally avoid you when your office is blanketed in a green fog. I'm getting so much work done, it's criminal.

Dallas is down seventeen pounds and now looks about twenty five years old, which brings out the raging coug in me. He's on the short term plan so in just over a week, his diet will become much more varied. One side effect that came as a surprise was his development of a slight obsession with the bathroom scale. He must hop on that thing four or five times a day. Every night, he boldly predicts his overnight weight loss and he's frighteningly accurate. There is a small, shallow like a puddle, part of me that is irrationally jealous. He's lost more and is eating more food than I am. Last week, he had a FUDGSICLE.

And he TOLD me about it but not in a boasting, baiting way. He was guilty. I kissed him, which he took as a forgiving sign but really, I just wanted to lick the corners of his mouth to see if there might be a bit of chocolate residue left.

He has a goal weight for Saturday which is only four pounds away. If he gets there, he's going to reward himself with a beer. When that happens, I just might have to kiss him after every sip.