Let the Cussing Commence

Day Seven. Feels like day 43. Hundred.

Yesterday was the first day I could have single-handedly taken the head off the sweet doctor who suggested I do this.

Being in her office, I had to admit that she was right, I had hit the point of cussing. With gusto. She told me it would come to this before I left week one. You were so right on, sister.

This morning, the only way I managed to choke down the protein shake, was to remind myself "Nothing tastes better than thin feels." I said it with every.single.sip.*

To make matters worse, yesterday I had lost almost five pounds. Magically, overnight, I managed to gain one back. There are no words to describe my joy.

So, I'm gritting my teeth, steeling my gag reflex, and trying not to drop any more F-bombs.**

My one consolation is that, tomorrow, I get solid protein, in the form of chicken or sea bass. And that's all great and well, but I still miss bread. Brown rice is great and all, but it ain't no stinkin' baguette.

We'll see how long it takes before I carjack the poor dude in the Hostess truck.


*I can't chug something that is the consistency of tofu, try as I might.

**I think three a day, before 3pm, is probably way too many any way.