The title of this blog has already given you a hint as to what probably lies in store......
El Hubbo and I periodically (usually after an unusually heavy meal) declare with heart-felt seriousness that we have to "do something" about our weight. We both were ag majors in college and we know that the basic formula to weight loss is fewer calories in, more calories burned. There is just one little problem with this:
We like food.
That may be an understatement. We love food. And we are both great cooks. And we appreciate the culinary skills of others. But, this tie that binds us together also makes us a horrible support system for each other. Each of us has, without anything close to appearing as shame, completely torpedoed each other's prior attempts at weight loss programs. We are weak, I tell you, WEAK.
While not a fan of "fad diets", we recently were moaning and groaning about how miserable we felt. (I think it was after a fabulous steak dinner.) And, El Hubbo looks at me sadly and says, "We have to do something." I looked back at him and told him that some ladies at work had been on a diet that they said really worked, and I had noticed that they were getting some results.
"Let's try it," he says.
So, we did. It's called the Military Diet. Perhaps you have heard of it. If not, let me document our journey for you.
The basic premise is you will eat a very strict diet for three days, then be off for four days. The night before we began, we went to the store to load up on our supplies. The shopping cart looked disdainfully empty and the store clerk (we are frequent fliers through the line) looked around for a second cart.
We arose with a sense of dedication and purpose. We were ready, and we were going to do this! We ate half a grapefruit, a piece of toast and 2 tablespoons of peanut butter with a cup of coffee. Hey, we thought, this ain't too bad!
Then I prepped our lunch.
One slice of toast and a 1/2 cup tuna for him. I can't stand tuna. So, I substituted cottage cheese. Lunch time rolled around, and I realized something very important. I only like cottage cheese when there is fruit and coconut mixed into it. It took me 20 minutes to choke down that 1/2 cup of cottage cheese. Fortunately, I could have another cup of coffee, so that helped. I made a mental note to sub something different for the next round of tuna.
Dinner was not too bad: green beans, chicken, an apple, 1/2 banana, 1/2 cup vanilla ice cream. Hey! Ice cream! This diet is AWESOME! We were a little hungry, as portions were somewhat small, but hey, we got ICE CREAM.
We went to bed thinking this wasn't so bad. We had to drink a lot of water, which meant a lot of trips to the bathroom, but we could do this!
Day 2 we checked the list for breakfast. It called for an egg, but since I have a slight food allergy to eggs, we went with the 2 slices of bacon substitution. A piece of toast and 1/2 banana. And water. Wait - what? No coffee? Let me see that sheet again! Sure enough, it said, no caffeine after day one. ARE THEY KIDDING ME? My sleep had been interrupted as I had to relieve myself of the 100+ ounces of water I had consumed and now they wanted me to go without COFFEE???? Oh, this will not do!
El Hubbo told me I could do it - we were on day two, only today and tomorrow and then I could have it again. "Fine!" I replied, "But you have to deal with me." He looked a little frightened at the thought.
I took a little pleasure in handing him his lunch: a slice of cheese, 2 slices of bacon, 5 saltines. He looked a little dismayed, but took it and walked a little dejectedly out of the house.
I should probably admit that I don't do hunger well. I get a classic case of "hangry" (hunger + anger). My family will confirm this. To keep me docile and socially acceptable, one should make sure I am fed and caffeinated regularly. This is for the safety of all. My coworkers have also learned this about me. I trudge into work early just for them. I love them, and do not wish to inflict the wrath of the monster within on them, so I arrive and consume my coffee. No one approaches my door until at least 8:15 - giving the coffee time to transform me into the lovely, helpful co-worker they prefer.
So, they were not fans of me on this diet.
I watched the clock waiting for the lunch hour to arrive. It arrived, and I had approximately fifty-nine minutes and 55 seconds to spare following consumption of my lunch. By two o'clock that afternoon, I was in a full-on state of hangry. I went down the hall to the lady who had given me the diet details and who had told me I wouldn't be hungry......and accused her of lying to me. "YOU LIED! LIAR! YOU LIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEDDDDDDDDD!" Fourteen or fifteen of them tackled me and drug me back to my office, where they locked me up. (Much like a werewolf during a full moon.) They shut down my phones so that I would not have any contact with the outside world. I had quieted down close to quitting time, mostly because I had started to feel a little weak.
Dinner was not too bad: 2 hot dogs (no buns), broccoli, carrots, 1/2 banana and 1/2 cup vanilla ice cream. Ah, ice cream. El Hubbo does not normally get the hangers, but he can be incredibly sneaky. My food aggression was on full display when he tried to reach his fork over to steal one of my carrots. I quickly stabbed him with my fork and wrapped my arm around my plate like I was in prison. I scowled at him and told him I would have no problem picking my teeth with his bones. The children, who by now had figured out their parents had lost their minds, had hoarded peanut butter and crackers in their rooms and refused to come out. It was probably safer that way. Once sated, I returned to a semi-normal semblance of myself.
Day three. Another night of interrupted sleep. Another day of no prospect of caffeine. There is no joy in the world. I was past the hangry stage and was just weak and sad. I drove to work and could barely make it up the steps into the office. I sat in my chair and laid my head on my desk. As people came in my office with questions, I would stare blankly at them as I tried to decipher what they were saying. They began to realize I was essentially incapacitated. I decided that this was not what our military ate, but what they gave the other side to make them weak and unable to fight.
By lunch, I knew something had to give. Half a cup of coffee, I had to have it. The world would not, in fact, continue to turn if I did not have it. So, I did. I cheated, OK. I felt horrible about it. I had come so far! I only had this day to survive, I should have not done it, but I did. I spent the rest of the day beating myself up about it. But, I spent the rest of the day much more productive.
I arrived home to find El Hubbo preparing our dinner. I was hungry. I was still weak, as I was only minimally caffeinated, but I was not hangry. I came up behind El Hubbo and wrapped my arms around him in a hug. Then I noticed he smelled like the chicken he was cooking. I may or may not have attempted to take a bite out of him. We had crossed a line of no return. I had gone all Donner Party on him. Cannibalism was no longer taboo. He quickly got away and threw the chicken at me, and I pounced on it like a zombie on fresh flesh.
I noticed he was in unusually good spirits, and asked how his day was. He came clean that he had cheated. I started to feel less badly about my indiscretion, assuming he had done something equally bad. Then he told me he had a big bowl of homemade soup someone had brought to work and a homemade dinner role. I may or may not have thrown a knife at him.
So, was it worth it? We did find that we had substantial results in the weight loss category the next day. And, the clothes definitely felt better. Once I had eaten a breakfast burrito and consumed a ginormous cup of coffee, I felt much, much better. We decided we might try this again next week. I am responsible for the shopping trip, El Hubbo is welding together a cage to keep me in.
El Hubbo and I periodically (usually after an unusually heavy meal) declare with heart-felt seriousness that we have to "do something" about our weight. We both were ag majors in college and we know that the basic formula to weight loss is fewer calories in, more calories burned. There is just one little problem with this:
We like food.
That may be an understatement. We love food. And we are both great cooks. And we appreciate the culinary skills of others. But, this tie that binds us together also makes us a horrible support system for each other. Each of us has, without anything close to appearing as shame, completely torpedoed each other's prior attempts at weight loss programs. We are weak, I tell you, WEAK.
While not a fan of "fad diets", we recently were moaning and groaning about how miserable we felt. (I think it was after a fabulous steak dinner.) And, El Hubbo looks at me sadly and says, "We have to do something." I looked back at him and told him that some ladies at work had been on a diet that they said really worked, and I had noticed that they were getting some results.
"Let's try it," he says.
So, we did. It's called the Military Diet. Perhaps you have heard of it. If not, let me document our journey for you.
The basic premise is you will eat a very strict diet for three days, then be off for four days. The night before we began, we went to the store to load up on our supplies. The shopping cart looked disdainfully empty and the store clerk (we are frequent fliers through the line) looked around for a second cart.
We arose with a sense of dedication and purpose. We were ready, and we were going to do this! We ate half a grapefruit, a piece of toast and 2 tablespoons of peanut butter with a cup of coffee. Hey, we thought, this ain't too bad!
Then I prepped our lunch.
One slice of toast and a 1/2 cup tuna for him. I can't stand tuna. So, I substituted cottage cheese. Lunch time rolled around, and I realized something very important. I only like cottage cheese when there is fruit and coconut mixed into it. It took me 20 minutes to choke down that 1/2 cup of cottage cheese. Fortunately, I could have another cup of coffee, so that helped. I made a mental note to sub something different for the next round of tuna.
Dinner was not too bad: green beans, chicken, an apple, 1/2 banana, 1/2 cup vanilla ice cream. Hey! Ice cream! This diet is AWESOME! We were a little hungry, as portions were somewhat small, but hey, we got ICE CREAM.
We went to bed thinking this wasn't so bad. We had to drink a lot of water, which meant a lot of trips to the bathroom, but we could do this!
Day 2 we checked the list for breakfast. It called for an egg, but since I have a slight food allergy to eggs, we went with the 2 slices of bacon substitution. A piece of toast and 1/2 banana. And water. Wait - what? No coffee? Let me see that sheet again! Sure enough, it said, no caffeine after day one. ARE THEY KIDDING ME? My sleep had been interrupted as I had to relieve myself of the 100+ ounces of water I had consumed and now they wanted me to go without COFFEE???? Oh, this will not do!
El Hubbo told me I could do it - we were on day two, only today and tomorrow and then I could have it again. "Fine!" I replied, "But you have to deal with me." He looked a little frightened at the thought.
I took a little pleasure in handing him his lunch: a slice of cheese, 2 slices of bacon, 5 saltines. He looked a little dismayed, but took it and walked a little dejectedly out of the house.
I should probably admit that I don't do hunger well. I get a classic case of "hangry" (hunger + anger). My family will confirm this. To keep me docile and socially acceptable, one should make sure I am fed and caffeinated regularly. This is for the safety of all. My coworkers have also learned this about me. I trudge into work early just for them. I love them, and do not wish to inflict the wrath of the monster within on them, so I arrive and consume my coffee. No one approaches my door until at least 8:15 - giving the coffee time to transform me into the lovely, helpful co-worker they prefer.
So, they were not fans of me on this diet.
I watched the clock waiting for the lunch hour to arrive. It arrived, and I had approximately fifty-nine minutes and 55 seconds to spare following consumption of my lunch. By two o'clock that afternoon, I was in a full-on state of hangry. I went down the hall to the lady who had given me the diet details and who had told me I wouldn't be hungry......and accused her of lying to me. "YOU LIED! LIAR! YOU LIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEDDDDDDDDD!" Fourteen or fifteen of them tackled me and drug me back to my office, where they locked me up. (Much like a werewolf during a full moon.) They shut down my phones so that I would not have any contact with the outside world. I had quieted down close to quitting time, mostly because I had started to feel a little weak.
Dinner was not too bad: 2 hot dogs (no buns), broccoli, carrots, 1/2 banana and 1/2 cup vanilla ice cream. Ah, ice cream. El Hubbo does not normally get the hangers, but he can be incredibly sneaky. My food aggression was on full display when he tried to reach his fork over to steal one of my carrots. I quickly stabbed him with my fork and wrapped my arm around my plate like I was in prison. I scowled at him and told him I would have no problem picking my teeth with his bones. The children, who by now had figured out their parents had lost their minds, had hoarded peanut butter and crackers in their rooms and refused to come out. It was probably safer that way. Once sated, I returned to a semi-normal semblance of myself.
Day three. Another night of interrupted sleep. Another day of no prospect of caffeine. There is no joy in the world. I was past the hangry stage and was just weak and sad. I drove to work and could barely make it up the steps into the office. I sat in my chair and laid my head on my desk. As people came in my office with questions, I would stare blankly at them as I tried to decipher what they were saying. They began to realize I was essentially incapacitated. I decided that this was not what our military ate, but what they gave the other side to make them weak and unable to fight.
By lunch, I knew something had to give. Half a cup of coffee, I had to have it. The world would not, in fact, continue to turn if I did not have it. So, I did. I cheated, OK. I felt horrible about it. I had come so far! I only had this day to survive, I should have not done it, but I did. I spent the rest of the day beating myself up about it. But, I spent the rest of the day much more productive.
I arrived home to find El Hubbo preparing our dinner. I was hungry. I was still weak, as I was only minimally caffeinated, but I was not hangry. I came up behind El Hubbo and wrapped my arms around him in a hug. Then I noticed he smelled like the chicken he was cooking. I may or may not have attempted to take a bite out of him. We had crossed a line of no return. I had gone all Donner Party on him. Cannibalism was no longer taboo. He quickly got away and threw the chicken at me, and I pounced on it like a zombie on fresh flesh.
I noticed he was in unusually good spirits, and asked how his day was. He came clean that he had cheated. I started to feel less badly about my indiscretion, assuming he had done something equally bad. Then he told me he had a big bowl of homemade soup someone had brought to work and a homemade dinner role. I may or may not have thrown a knife at him.
So, was it worth it? We did find that we had substantial results in the weight loss category the next day. And, the clothes definitely felt better. Once I had eaten a breakfast burrito and consumed a ginormous cup of coffee, I felt much, much better. We decided we might try this again next week. I am responsible for the shopping trip, El Hubbo is welding together a cage to keep me in.
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