good example--there are still plenty of really overweight doctors and nurses. And I always see people in scrubs smoking outside the building.
So even though Jackie looked really healthy and energetic and seemed all pumped up about fruits and vegetables, I still had to wonder if she kept a secret stash of Red Vines in her purse. Nobody's perfect.
So I just asked her. I'm supposed to be doing research, right?
Jackie laughed. "Don't worry, I have my own vices. I'm not sure I could do what you're doing--giving up sugar entirely. That's a little too strict for me."
"It's just for seven months," I told her. But I think I was really trying to reassure myself.
"Well, I think it's a bold experiment," Jackie said. "I can't wait to see how it turns out."
We spent the rest of the time going over some basic meal plans to make sure I'm getting enough protein and carbohydrates and vitamins and minerals. She wants me to take a multivitamin just to be sure. That's fine--safety exception.
She also--and this is the part I hated--had me step on the scale. Everyone knows those scales in doctors' offices weigh you about ten pounds too much. Plus I was wearing very heavy clothes. I didn't want to see the number, but I didn't really have a choice.
It was worse than I thought.
She also used this weird little machine to test my body mass index--the amount of me that's bone and muscle versus the amount that's fat. Also pretty depressing.
But Jackie was cheerful about it. "It's good to face facts," she said. "We shouldn't be afraid of the truth."
Right. Easy for a skinny woman like her to say.
But at least she gave me some hope. "I imagine over the next few months, you're going to see some fairly significant weight loss. Going from a junk food diet to nothing but whole foods and from no exercise to suddenly walking every day--your body is going to love that. I think you'll be pleased with how quickly things change."
So that was good news, and it almost balanced out the horror of the weigh-in. But not really.
We agreed that I'll come back every six weeks or so to check in and see how it's going. That should make my mom happy, too. Plus it's more data for my research notebook, so Mr. Fizer can see how seriously I'm taking this.
Normally after a day like this--the stress of Mr. Fizer's class, my weird conversation with Matt, and then having to face how fat I actually am right now--well, normally that would have called for ice cream. And lots of chocolate. And probably something salty, too, like Doritos. Oh, and maybe a few extra cans of Diet Coke to wash it down.
Yeah. Well.
What did Hominin Woman do when she wanted to sulk--go steal some baby birds out of a nest? Yuck, let's hope not. What did people do before they had junk food to console themselves with? Maybe she knew where there was some special plant that if you sucked on its leaves, you could get a good sugar rush. Or maybe she knew where there was a little patch of salt water somewhere, and she could close her eyes and pretend she lived in the future where we have chips and onion dip.
Here I was thinking she was so cool and strong and capable, when maybe really she was utterly miserable. How can it be a good life if you can't make cookies every now and then?
Grrrr. That's the sound of my saber-toothed cravings. Let's hope Jackie is right and they go away soon, because right now I swear I could lick even a picture of a cake.
Maybe I shouldn't be this way, but I'm glad I made Matt suffer a little bit today, if that's really what happened. It doesn't really make me feel better, but at least for once I'm not alone.
I need cookies so badly right now I could scream.
21
Day 17, Saturday, September 6
Dinner: Baked sweet potato fries. Burnt, and I couldn't even use ketchup to cover them up. Very bad.
The first Saturday of every month is Poetry Night at the Karmic Cafe. It's this vegetarian restaurant down by the university, and it serves perhaps the worst food I've ever tasted. It's
So even though Jackie looked really healthy and energetic and seemed all pumped up about fruits and vegetables, I still had to wonder if she kept a secret stash of Red Vines in her purse. Nobody's perfect.
So I just asked her. I'm supposed to be doing research, right?
Jackie laughed. "Don't worry, I have my own vices. I'm not sure I could do what you're doing--giving up sugar entirely. That's a little too strict for me."
"It's just for seven months," I told her. But I think I was really trying to reassure myself.
"Well, I think it's a bold experiment," Jackie said. "I can't wait to see how it turns out."
We spent the rest of the time going over some basic meal plans to make sure I'm getting enough protein and carbohydrates and vitamins and minerals. She wants me to take a multivitamin just to be sure. That's fine--safety exception.
She also--and this is the part I hated--had me step on the scale. Everyone knows those scales in doctors' offices weigh you about ten pounds too much. Plus I was wearing very heavy clothes. I didn't want to see the number, but I didn't really have a choice.
It was worse than I thought.
She also used this weird little machine to test my body mass index--the amount of me that's bone and muscle versus the amount that's fat. Also pretty depressing.
But Jackie was cheerful about it. "It's good to face facts," she said. "We shouldn't be afraid of the truth."
Right. Easy for a skinny woman like her to say.
But at least she gave me some hope. "I imagine over the next few months, you're going to see some fairly significant weight loss. Going from a junk food diet to nothing but whole foods and from no exercise to suddenly walking every day--your body is going to love that. I think you'll be pleased with how quickly things change."
So that was good news, and it almost balanced out the horror of the weigh-in. But not really.
We agreed that I'll come back every six weeks or so to check in and see how it's going. That should make my mom happy, too. Plus it's more data for my research notebook, so Mr. Fizer can see how seriously I'm taking this.
Normally after a day like this--the stress of Mr. Fizer's class, my weird conversation with Matt, and then having to face how fat I actually am right now--well, normally that would have called for ice cream. And lots of chocolate. And probably something salty, too, like Doritos. Oh, and maybe a few extra cans of Diet Coke to wash it down.
Yeah. Well.
What did Hominin Woman do when she wanted to sulk--go steal some baby birds out of a nest? Yuck, let's hope not. What did people do before they had junk food to console themselves with? Maybe she knew where there was some special plant that if you sucked on its leaves, you could get a good sugar rush. Or maybe she knew where there was a little patch of salt water somewhere, and she could close her eyes and pretend she lived in the future where we have chips and onion dip.
Here I was thinking she was so cool and strong and capable, when maybe really she was utterly miserable. How can it be a good life if you can't make cookies every now and then?
Grrrr. That's the sound of my saber-toothed cravings. Let's hope Jackie is right and they go away soon, because right now I swear I could lick even a picture of a cake.
Maybe I shouldn't be this way, but I'm glad I made Matt suffer a little bit today, if that's really what happened. It doesn't really make me feel better, but at least for once I'm not alone.
I need cookies so badly right now I could scream.
21
Day 17, Saturday, September 6
Dinner: Baked sweet potato fries. Burnt, and I couldn't even use ketchup to cover them up. Very bad.
The first Saturday of every month is Poetry Night at the Karmic Cafe. It's this vegetarian restaurant down by the university, and it serves perhaps the worst food I've ever tasted. It's
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