The other day I realized that I’ve been doing what I think is good for me to the exclusion of anything even remotely enjoyable.
Food, books, writing, my love life. I’m grinding my teeth so hard while I sleep, there’s ivory powder in the morning.
First, there’s my diet. I haven’t had butter or mayonnaise or a cupcake in as long as I can remember.
That’s a lie. I had an extremely memorable red velvet cupcake at a place called Molly’s in Chicago last month. They’ve won awards for that little cake.
My adorable niece and nephew and I sat on swings(!) at the counter and shared baked goods of the gods–not too sweet but supremely satisfying, only a dollar or two each. That was vacation, though, and not my real life.
My real life lately consists of eating meals between 250-300 calories each. I’ve given up on cooking at night and switched to swallowing the somewhat dreadful Eating Right meals they sell at Safeway.
The scale cheers me up. I’ve lost four pounds in a week and am aiming for 20 more, don’t laugh.
There are other problems, though…
Part 2 coming up.