I'm back on Atkins. Or so my husband thinks. I've been "okay-to-eh" as far as observing it, keeping myself within 20 gm of carb daily. Today, I shot it to shit. I had whole wheat toast with my breakfast, total carb count: 30 gm. I'll be good the rest of the day. Rome wasn't built in a day. I'll keep myself hydrated, have a protein bar for lunch, and perhaps go to sleep when I get home and by-pass dinner. Formula for disaster. This I know.
Such is life for the polycystic fat woman.
2 comments:
Nothing short of psychological torture could change how I love food. Food is something to look forward too every day, and it gives a pleasure not even sex really parallels.
That is why diets are no good. They try to sterilize that joy and control it, and they can't. I heard the sucess rate of even having your damned stomach stapled is only %50.
So then, what the hell else are you supposed to do? Yeah, there in lies the problem.
Do your best hon. This chubby chicky is pulling for you.
Esereth, now you know why I also have a recipe blog:)
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