bogeyandruby

Random stuff, reflections on the meaning of life and death, humour, self-deprecation, a bit of bad poetry.

Hullabaloo, day fifteen and half way though. The scream for cream has subsided to a whimper and will hopefully settle there until reintroduction. Insert wistful sigh right about now.

The benefits, at least for me, are emerging slower than the Spring thaw, not quite as stubborn as molasses. A little less bloat, improved gastrointestinal function, clarity of thought at least twice a day, and a rib-spotting earlier this morning.

Ian’s data is more scientific: 10lbs lighter (after breakfast and wearing fleece penguin pyjama bottoms, the kind that weigh at least a kilo or two) and an inch and a half less around the middle. I am thrilled to be losing weight vicariously though him. It almost feels as though I’ve lost weight too.

Almost, not quite.

One thing I have noticed so far is that I cannot skip a meal. No way José. I got into trouble yesterday after eating a late lunch then heading into town to watch a play that Ian’s daughter was in.

Right before, we stopped by the Plâteau to pick up some ordered prints from lovely street photographer Mikaël Theimer, who, by the way, has offered to take our “after” photo, then dropped by the Starbucks near the theatre to gulp down some black coffee.

Chugging his café allongé, Ian munched on the organic almonds and dates he brought along but I desisted because almonds make my teeth hurt and dates remind me of large, legless cockroaches. I simply cannot eat anything that looks like it was once alive: no pleading eyes begging for mercy, no hands and feet waving good-bye, and no insect shaped food with or without appendages. The only exception to the latter rule would be rainbow-coloured, fruit flavoured insects made with 100% sugar and food colouring.

Getting back to the play, it totally rocked but by the time I left the theatre I was weak at the knees. Not far from the ground, I know, but still wobbly. Snatching the snack bag from Ian, I closed my eyes and pretended I was eating date squares. It helped briefly but was no replacement for a solid meal. And eating something substantial at midnight wasn’t really an option.

Thank goodness for the clocks moving forward. It was the perfect excuse to get up for an earlier breakfast.

Lesson learned. To be fair, two weeks ago sugar ruled. Now I am forced to respond to my body’s needs.
I probably won’t post about our Whole30 adventure as often from here on in, that is, unless my nine subscribers clamour for more which is highly unlikely considering how slim and trim they all are.
See you on the other side of the hill!

Checking up on an old friend.

A hilarious scene from Alkestis, performed by second year theatre students at Dawson.

One thought on “Top Of The Hill

  1. Boy Blue says:

    Boss! Great post, as usual. The Galley slave was burning calories (and a spill in the oven as you wrote.

    Like

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