Saturday, February 5, 2011

Week Two: "You want me to WHAT?"

So the guru broke the news to us. In Week Two, she said, we had to add snacks.

I know, right? How great is that? Except…

Every two to four hours, another protein/vegetable combo was supposed to make its way into my gullet and frankly, I simply was not hungry two hours after consuming a cup of yogurt and homemade apple-pear-blueberry compote. Or two eggs scrambled with herbes de Provence and green and red peppers.

One of my favourite sayings is “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” so having lost five freaking pounds on the three-meal-a-day plan, why would I change that?

The guru, Vicki Waters, that’s why. A blonde fifty-something force of nature, she is an irresistible force and I didn’t intend to find out what happened if I decided to be an immovable object.

Trust, I told myself. Other people have done this and they succeeded. Remember Elpis.

A couple of days into Week Two, I asked Fodder, “How are you making out with this snack thing?”

“It takes a lot of time,” he said. “All the chopping and then the eating, and the water…”

“I know what you mean.” It seemed that if I wasn’t cleaning vegetables or chewing almonds, I was trotting to the nearest washroom.

“How do you feel?” I asked next, because in spite of all the extra work, meals and exercise, I felt like a million bucks.

However, Fodder had blood pressure and cholesterol issues that I don’t have, and he’d had a couple more decades to  get set in his cracker-eating ways.

“Great!” His voice held all the surprise of a guy breaking 75-year-old habits and discovering the world wasn’t tilting the wrong way on its axis. “I’ve got so much energy I’ve had to stop resting after lunch.”

“Yeah, me too.” Not that I napped; I’m not retired, after all. But I no longer had to race to finish all my active brain-work early in the day and reserve the two-to-four pm time slot for mindless chores. 
In spite of the increased work I had to do to eat better and more often, I actually was getting more done in the rest of my life. Go figure.

By the end of the week, I’d managed to include the right snacks in the right amounts pretty much on schedule and I was never hungry. Quite the opposite, in fact.
I know, right? Weird.

“I don’t think I lost any weight,” Fodder said as we got into his car to drive to the meeting, “but I feel really good, so it doesn’t matter.”

I agreed. The ultimate point of this whole exercise was better health, so the numbers on the scale really didn’t enter into it. Right?

Yeah, sure, I told myself. You hold that thought. You’ve been snacking, remember?

Then…after the weigh-in I bounced back to my seat like a 155-pound helium balloon. I was down another five pounds. 
So was Fodder.

I know, right?

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