Now I'm working on my third week of dieting, and I have something to say. Radical dieting works. I checked in on Wed (because I missed class on Monday by taking my wife to a concert of the Manheim Steamroller) and according to their scale I had lost over 15 pounds. Now that's what I consider progress. I need to ask why some of my blood sugar readings are growing a trifle high in the morning. Maybe I'm not eternally done with diabetic medicine. That would be a bummer.
I think I feel a little better, but the process is gradual and therefore difficult to measure. I think it is a tiny bit easier to mount the stairs. But it may be a psychological trick my mind plays on me because I expect to feel better. Then again, 15 lbs of potatoes makes a heavy sack to carry up and down stairs. Why then should not 15 lbs of disgusting lard not register the same? My daughter asked if I could breathe any better. She remembers visiting me in the hospital when I had a difficult bout with pneumonia. Well, I think I breathe a little better, but I'm not sure that it's not my euphoria over losing that weight that I'm measuring.
Anyway, I remain committed for the long haul. And it will become very long before we finish. I don't think I will ever order a shake in a restaurant for the remainder of my aged life. They are sweet and tasty, but it all becomes tediously boring in due time. The slightly chalky after taste is nicely eliminated with a stick of sugarless gum. The surprise remains to be the fact that I'm really not hungry! I long for a sausage sandwich with sauteed onions and peppers, or a slice of Rosario's pizza, or a Sourdough Jack. But that's because I'm bored with diet food, not because I'm hungry. I'm afraid they will try to tell me to never eat that delicious cuisine again or else. There has to be a compromise. Maybe limit myself to one sausage sandwich a month? Ahhh...slurp, slurp.