Four days, three pounds

So today, I stepped on the scale with one hand firmly over my eyes.

Then I realized I couldn't read the numbers that way, so I peeked between my fingers. 

I was sure I had blown the "diet" (it's more of a lifestyle, really) last night. We went to see a dinner theater production of "Jesus Christ Superstar" and I was faced with a mountain of food. Fortunately, dessert is served at intermission, and the entree served an hour before the show began, so I managed to eat my dinner and my dessert three hours apart. How lucky was THAT? 

I had to eyeball the amount of food I was eating (my kids would have died if I'd whipped out my little food scale), but I asked for a to-go box and put at least half of my entree in the box right away. I thought about putting the whole thing in the box and going whole hog on the dessert. Then the "Thou Shalt Not Skip Meals" rule rang in my head, so I ate some of my chicken and veggies.

Three hours later, I was eating a quadruple-layer chocolate cake. (I only ate one layer.)

And this morning, when I finally pried my fingers away, I discovered I'd lost three pounds. 

Yep... in immortal words of Micky Dolenz, "I'm a believer." 

 

Day 2

Yesterday I ate a chili dog.

It took me nine hours. Yep, that's a third of a dog every three hours.

Today has been easier, just as I suspected it would be. I still have this vague feeling of "I am going to drop dead from starvation during the next three-hour interval!" but at least my stomach isn't growling in an embarrasingly loud way like it was yesterday.

To celebrate my new diet, and to give me something to do between three-hour intervals, I bought a Shake Weight. Yes, the exercise equipment with the mildly obscene TV commercials.  I took it out of the box and looked for the "on" switch. Turns out, there's no "on" switch. Nor is there a battery. The shaking motion comes all from the shaker- i.e.,  me. And I shake, all right. My arms, my shoulders, my boobs... yep. There's a whole lotta shaking going on when I'm using the Shake Weight. And yes, you really do look like you're starring in "Dee Dee Does Dallas part 69" while shaking.

My husband says he's going to reap all the benefits of my performing these rather obscene exercises. I'm just hoping all this obsceneness will help me with the flaps under my arms. If it doesn't, I guess I will just have to come to terms with the flaps. Maybe I will name them and truly become their friends.

But in the meantime, I shake, shake, shake.

Eight ounces, every three hours

So, I read this article on CNN.com detailing a woman's amazing 200-plus pound weight loss journey. In a nutshell, she lost the weight following these tips: 1. Eat 8 ounces of food every 3 hours 2. no sugary drinks. 3. Don't skip meals. 4. Don't tell anyone what you're doing.

I thought to myself, "Self, this sounds like an effective way to lose some weight." And as someone who has tried all diets known to man plus a few I made up myself, I am always on the lookout for a way to leave my excess weight behind me.

I decided to follow these simple rules and see what happens. Except I'm only following three of the rules, because I'm going to tell EVERYONE what I'm doing. I'm warning you now: there may be whining. Copious amounts of it. Because today, on my first day of what I'm unofficially calling "The CNN Diet," I am going to tell you this:

Eight ounces of food is not very much. And I am STARVING. In fact, even as I write this the cats are moving cautiously away from me in the fear that I might possibly shake a little salt on them and start gnawing on one of their legs.

Around 11 a.m. I ate a Kashi granola bar, plus a corner of a second one because there are only 7 ounces in each bar and I was not going to be cheated, dammit. After three hours, I realized I needed to desperately buy a food scale unless I wanted to eat nothing but Kashi bars for the rest of my life. I ate a half of a peanut butter sandwich because that was the same size as the Kashi bar and therefore had to be in the ballpark of 8 ounces.

And now, a few hours later... the cats are fearing for their lives.

I think today is going to be the hardest. Hopefully by tomorrow my body will have gotten a little more used to the idea of eating a whole lot less.

If anyone needs me, I'll be here, salting the cats.