I’ve eaten more Sugar-free Jello in the past week than any sort of regular Jello in like my whole life – and what I’ve decided is this: horse hooves or no – it has become my own personal Southbeachized Ambrosia.
I don’t mind skipping french fries or saying, “no thanks” when good friends offer me baklava– so long as my trusty Cherry Jello will be waiting for me at home.
Luckily this is not my only dietary delight – Last night I made a creamy ricotta/vanilla “thing” that was almost like melted ice cream. So there.
I’ve finally reached the phase of determination where, despite all obstacles I’m sticking to the this stupid thing.
For example: I had lunch with my boss and co-worker at the University cafeteria. I didn’t anticipate there being much of a problem…because – hello! it’s a smörgåsbords! I mean, surely there has to be something I can eat.
Hm. How about vegetable soup, I thought. But, the committed, little food fascist that I am decided to read the nutritional information posted above the caldron. 45g of carbs per serving…and…and High Fructose Corn Syrup. IN SOUP. In vegetable soup…at a college. Moms and dads – they’re poisoning your children here.
So, no soup. Hm. Hm.
I started to get kind of embarrassed at how long it was taking me to find something suitable…ya know, you can only act so jumpy and finicky before people start asking questions and then…dread of all dreads you might have to explain yourself and say, “Oh, yeah – I’m on a diiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeetttttttt.” And your face would go all red and they’d be embarrassed and feel the need to say something like, “Oh, really? Well…” because they don’t want to say you don’t actually need one, because you do…so they’d panic more and try to make conversation about all of the diets they’ve ever been on and then you’d freak out because you know you’re a fatty and they know you’re a fatty and you’d know that they know you’re a fatty and now you’re discussing it…like, in public and GAH!
So anyway, I went through my mental checklist at lightening speed: Sandwich? No. Wrap? No. Donut? No. Chinese food? No. Salad? Eh.
I finally grabbed a pre-packaged chicken Ceasar salad, some oil & vinegar, a spoonful of cottage cheese and a bottle of water. Schwoo. Food crisis averted.
You guys, it would not be an exaggeration to tell you I was sweating my lady balls off during the whole ordeal. The mental energy it takes to not eat a garbage dump worth of shit is so much more taxing than most realize.