Continuing perhaps the least appealing blog entry ever… my diet, or rather, my new lifelong eating habits, which I changed overnight about two and a half months ago. (To recap: in order to deal with oncoming diabetes and scary cholesterol buildup, I stopped eating all meat, dairy products, nuts, nut butter, and oils.) I cover this information less because you’ll find it inherently interesting than as an explanation as to why I suddenly abandoned this blog so long ago. Getting a loyal blog audience is difficult, and sacrificing mine was not something I did lightly.
I have hurt a couple of friends and broken commitments because I simply have no energy or desire to get past the basics. By the time I’ve got the three kids off to school, done a load of dishes, worked out, and maybe done a little research on what culinary delights I’ll eat tomorrow, I’m done for the day. I don’t smoke or take any illicit drugs. I can’t have caffeine because it keeps me up all night no matter how early I have it. I had also decided to reset my sleep patterns and become a morning person. Up until a couple of days ago all I wanted to do was nap by the time the workout was over. That meant a full-on crash with nothing to catch the fall, not even a nap. I don’t want to watch DVDs, I don’t want to surf the web, I don’t want to talk to anyone on the phone, nothing. I just want to sleep. Since I can’t, it’s just waiting for one second to saunter past the next, deciding whether I should curl up into a fetal position, fantasize about getting to eat peanut butter, or just whine.
At this point you’re no doubt completely without sympathy. You are no doubt observing that at least the poor little rich CEO gets to work at home and won’t get fired if his productivity hits the floor with a whump, as it has the last few weeks. You’re right, it could certainly be worse. But man, I felt like crap for a long time.
I have been experiencing what can only be described as severe withdrawal symptoms, with my body working full time against this effort by throwing every possibly obstruction in the path of my diet. A number of skin conditions suddenly flared up. I had headaches all day for weeks, headaches that didn’t respond to over-the-counter painkillers. When my wife would cook something like shrimp, the smell was nauseating.
I became Mr. Hyde most of the day, snapping at nuns, little old ladies crossing the street, puppies, unicorns, and my poor defenseless children for offenses ranging from the trivial to the downright nonexistent. At times I was crushingly tired by late morning yet not allowed to nap. My last remaining comfort used to be taking hot baths and reading, but hauling my great overweight bulk out of the bathtub causes stress injuries that last for weeks. So that’s out. Forget coffee, candy, Mountain Dew. I can’t even take a damn bath.
And the food. Fortunately my wife is up to the hours of labor-intensive chopping, dicing, grating, and no-oil stir-frying needed to get me through the day, so I am lucky in that I seldom have to prepare it. For all the trouble required to make these meager dishes, it is sustenance and not often enjoyable. Because it has no added fat, I am simply never satisfied. Almost a month into the diet, I am finally coming to terms with that fact. I managed to gain weight the first three weeks because I just wouldn’t stop eating in hopes of somehow beating the system and actually feeling good at the end of a meal. End result: Bloat, but no satisfaction.
The book promises that about 12 weeks into the diet, you start to not miss fat. Maybe that’s so, but it glosses over the extreme discomfort one can endure during those first 12 weeks. Starting yesterday
I have hurt a couple of friends and broken commitments because I simply have no energy or desire to get past the basics. By the time I’ve got the three kids off to school, done a load of dishes, worked out, and maybe done a little research on what culinary delights I’ll eat tomorrow, I’m done for the day. I don’t smoke or take any illicit drugs. I can’t have caffeine because it keeps me up all night no matter how early I have it. I had also decided to reset my sleep patterns and become a morning person. Up until a couple of days ago all I wanted to do was nap by the time the workout was over. That meant a full-on crash with nothing to catch the fall, not even a nap. I don’t want to watch DVDs, I don’t want to surf the web, I don’t want to talk to anyone on the phone, nothing. I just want to sleep. Since I can’t, it’s just waiting for one second to saunter past the next, deciding whether I should curl up into a fetal position, fantasize about getting to eat peanut butter, or just whine.
At this point you’re no doubt completely without sympathy. You are no doubt observing that at least the poor little rich CEO gets to work at home and won’t get fired if his productivity hits the floor with a whump, as it has the last few weeks. You’re right, it could certainly be worse. But man, I felt like crap for a long time.
I have been experiencing what can only be described as severe withdrawal symptoms, with my body working full time against this effort by throwing every possibly obstruction in the path of my diet. A number of skin conditions suddenly flared up. I had headaches all day for weeks, headaches that didn’t respond to over-the-counter painkillers. When my wife would cook something like shrimp, the smell was nauseating.
I became Mr. Hyde most of the day, snapping at nuns, little old ladies crossing the street, puppies, unicorns, and my poor defenseless children for offenses ranging from the trivial to the downright nonexistent. At times I was crushingly tired by late morning yet not allowed to nap. My last remaining comfort used to be taking hot baths and reading, but hauling my great overweight bulk out of the bathtub causes stress injuries that last for weeks. So that’s out. Forget coffee, candy, Mountain Dew. I can’t even take a damn bath.
And the food. Fortunately my wife is up to the hours of labor-intensive chopping, dicing, grating, and no-oil stir-frying needed to get me through the day, so I am lucky in that I seldom have to prepare it. For all the trouble required to make these meager dishes, it is sustenance and not often enjoyable. Because it has no added fat, I am simply never satisfied. Almost a month into the diet, I am finally coming to terms with that fact. I managed to gain weight the first three weeks because I just wouldn’t stop eating in hopes of somehow beating the system and actually feeling good at the end of a meal. End result: Bloat, but no satisfaction.
The book promises that about 12 weeks into the diet, you start to not miss fat. Maybe that’s so, but it glosses over the extreme discomfort one can endure during those first 12 weeks. Starting yesterday I stopped jonesing for peanut butter. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll start looking forward to apple and leek wraps.
I stopped jonesing for peanut butter. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll start looking forward to apple and leek wraps.
I have hurt a couple of friends and broken commitments these last few months because I simply have no energy or desire to get past the basics. By the time I’ve got the three kids off to school, done a load of dishes, done a load of clothes, and worked out, dealt with accounting and lawyers, I was until last week pretty much done for the day. That was at least an hour before lunch was even a possibility. Suddenly things that normally wouldn’t get me down triggered unseemly amounts of pity: having a retarded child who seems impossible to toilet train, dealing with insurance personnel for another medically challenged child, sleep problems, the deterioration of a middle aged body, being hit by the IRS, my heritage of addiction, keeping the kids up with their homework… things I have handled just fine for years suddenly seemed like burdens.
I don’t smoke or take any illicit drugs. I can’t have caffeine because it keeps me up all night no matter how early I have it. I had also had to reset my sleep patterns and become a morning person, after years of keeping rock star hours. Up until a couple of days ago all I wanted to do was nap by the time the workout was over. That meant a full-on crash with nothing to catch the fall, because the much-desired siesta would shatter my new, fragile truce with the alarm clock. I don’t want to watch DVDs, I don’t want to surf the web, I don’t want to talk to anyone on the phone, nothing. I just want to sleep. Since I can’t, it’s just waiting for one second to saunter into the next, deciding whether I should curl up into a fetal position, fantasize about Olive Garden salad dressing, or just whine.
At this point you’re no doubt completely without sympathy. You are no doubt observing that at least the poor little rich CEO gets to work at home and won’t get fired if his productivity hits the floor with a whump, as it has the last few weeks. You’re right, it could certainly be worse. But man, I felt like crap for a long time. I still have days where just reading my email is triumph.
I have been experiencing what can only be described as severe withdrawal symptoms from eggs, milk, cheese, and oil, with my body working full time against this effort by throwing every possibly obstruction in the path of my diet. A number of skin conditions suddenly flared up. I had headaches all day for weeks, headaches that didn’t respond to over-the-counter painkillers. When my wife would fry something, it was everything I could do not to fly into a rage.
I became Mr. Hyde most of the day, snapping at nuns, little old ladies crossing the street, puppies, unicorns, and my poor defenseless children for offenses ranging from the trivial to the downright nonexistent. At times I was crushingly tired by late morning yet not allowed to nap. My last remaining comfort used to be taking hot baths and reading, but hauling my great overweight bulk out of the bathtub when it’s all done strains my wrists, causing stress injuries that last for weeks. So that’s out. It’s one thing that I can’t have candy, Mountain Dew, or cheese. I can’t even take a damn bath.
And the food. Fortunately my wife is up to the hour of labor-intensive chopping, dicing, grating, and no-oil stir-frying food preparation needed to get me through the day, so I am lucky in that I seldom have to prepare it. For all the trouble required to make these meager dishes, it is sustenance and not often enjoyable. Because it has no added fat, I am often full, but never satisfied. Two months into the diet, I am finally coming to terms with the fact that I will seldom enjoy a meal for its own sake. I managed to gain weight the first three weeks because I just wouldn’t stop eating in hopes of somehow beating the system and actually feeling good at the end of a meal. End result: Bloat, but no satisfaction.
The book I read descibing this diet promises that about 12 weeks in, you start to not miss fat. Maybe that’s so, but it glosses over the extreme discomfort one can endure during those agonizing few months. Starting yesterday a green shoot of hope emerged from the wasteland. I stopped jonesing for peanut butter. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll start looking forward to apple and leek wraps.
Even whilst jonesing from peanut butter, you can still write an interesting blog. Hang in there, there IS life after trans fats and dairy….errr….or so I’ve been told…
Please do not think you are alone. I suffer fromn all described except the overweight bit. I managed to dispel all the hunger demons by working out pretty hard but now my back has flared up so I sit in front of the mirror watching all I worked so hard for dissappearing. The worse part is that this stuff always happens as we get closer to the winter solstice. I HATE THE WINTER!!! Hold your head up to get rid of your jones for PB is a huge accomplishement. Hang in there the sun will come out. At least that’s what my therapist said.
You have a ‘retarded’ kid? Really? And, here I thought it was 2009.
@Annette: I’m guessing you feel I should use a more PC term, such as “other-abled” or “learning disabled” or something? Assuming that’s the case, well.. I’m a fat guy, not gravitationally enhanced or whatever it should be called. My darling wonderful exciting boy, who is the handsomest most delightful son ever, is retarded. Remember, that just means “slow”, and he is. I mean no harm by it, but nor do I wish to whitewash what cannot be changed, nor to devise new ways of saying old things.
I’m open to argument here.
@george, I feel your pain! And maybe I can help you too. My back got damaged by a bad personal trainer a quarter century ago. However, I have a totally awesome trainer now. I let her know about the back (and a few other infirmities) and danged if she doesn’t give a killer workout while actually strengthening my back. So if you can afford it, please please please ask everyone you know for a good trainer, interview that person carefully, and give it a go.
Tonight I picked up my daughter at school, took her home, dropped her off… and headed out to get some eggnog. I have a powerful urge for it. Got to Starbucks, then thought about how hard my wife is working to make me this vegan food, and dragged my giant sorry behind out before ordering anything. Closest call I’ve had in months. Thanks again for the good wishes.
@Christina, thank you. I’m pretty sure pure peanut butter has no trans fats, but your point is well taken. There is life after peanut butter, to be sure, and most of the time it’s all right. I have falled ill this past week through and the urges have flared up again something fierce.
I’m not interested in PC terms. I would rather not hear the labels. Call your kid your kid – parenting is hard we will understand.
More a critique on your writing, it was cheep, really.