Fasting for weight loss means I get hangry. To sidestep the anger and the irritating, drumming-finger wait until a meal arrives—a marathon of time away—I stay busy. Like collecting eggs with my nude five-year-old, folding towels, and wondering how seven pieces of Evelyn’s clothes wound up on the living room floor.
Then I remember: she got naked at peak earache time, right as Monsters Inc. was starting and the pain meds kicked in.
Writing is a distraction, but let’s be honest—a Whopper with cheese would be better. I love Whoppers. That charcoal-y flavor, the big slice of tomato, the cheese. I can’t not have cheese on it. A girl can dream.
Dave is taking temperatures with a red laser thermometer, and for a second, it looks like I’ve got a sniper’s dot on my forehead. Turns out, it hit the back of my monitor. “You were 71,” he says. So I’m either a corpse or he missed.
The watermelon and mystery melon I planted have sprouted new leaves and are a few inches tall—almost ready to move from the protected gardening cart on the porch to a more permanent home. My plan is to find spots around the property, document their location, type, and performance in Dave’s fancy notepad, and use it to learn the best planting spots for next year.
Of the two locations where I planted sugar snap peas, the shady, cooler spot against the house has far outperformed the sunny one by the playhouse. Noted.
Meanwhile, the kitchen is singing a sweet siren song. As I write this, Evelyn is FaceTiming with Grandma, and it takes me back to a few weeks ago when my parents were visiting. I suddenly remembered the restaurant we went to while they were here—and that incredible collard green soup. I’m so glad we jotted down the ingredients as we ate them and asked the waitress for the seasoning: collard greens, sausage, small (northern?) beans, potatoes, onions, all seasoned with Goya Sazón.
Thinking of the black and pinto beans in our pantry—and how every good soup needs the right variety—inspires me to diversify our stash. With the grocery store 35 minutes away in each direction, keeping extras on hand means I can always follow through on a craving.
I’m practically drooling thinking of that broth.
To make it to bedtime without eating, I’ll move away from the kitchen and into the office for a few sit-ups and light weightlifting. Then, maybe a bath and some Spanish study in bed. No one said discipline was easy, but removing access to temptation is a solid start.
And just because fasting works for me doesn’t mean it’ll work for you—talk to your doctor first. (Disclaimer over.)
I think that’s all she wrote. Or I wrote. I forget if I showed you the (nonvenomous!) scarlet snake we found alive in the pool the other day so I made the profile photo here.
See you tomorrow. Nighty night.
Love,
Jaclynn
Going On 40 