So, that's me after one week of HCG. Mission accomplished! Okay, I know a tub of goo like me is in no danger of looking like a meth addict, and I'll probably never be as dreamy as Christian Bale, even the disgustingly skinny version in The Machinist. But I did lose seven pounds. Even better, my body fat dropped from 27 percent down to 25. And that was with a major 2-day hiccup! On Saturday, I jumped off the wagon when I had no work to distract me, and then Sunday, Amy was throwing up everything but the kitchen sink, and I started to have stomach trouble and suspended the diet for another day. Had that not happened, it would have easily been ten or twelve pounds lost. Now that I've seen some results, it's strengthened my resolve to be good for another week (which was getting iffy). I thought that not weighing in regularly would help me to keep my focus on feeling better and not just a number, but if I'd have had a scale in the house, it might have stopped me from ransacking the chips and making myself a bagel Saturday afternoon. Anyway, progress has been made and I'm extremely happy considering this weekend's lapse.
The biggest surprise of the week was how easy it was. I was hungry, but I really didn't feel like I was starving. A few days in, my stomach felt a little flatter and I felt trimmer. Eating oranges became a delicious treat, and diet soda (which I have hated for a long time) tasted amazingly sweet. And my energy was a lot better without all the sugar I'd been taking in the previous week. I'd still prefer not to be on this thing, but I am looking forward to getting all up in Gina's face as she swallows another mayo-slathered fried Twinkie whole. She'll be so proud.
Anywho, just checking in. I'll try to put together another survey before the start of the weekend. Until then, think skinny thoughts and enjoy all the wonderful things I can't have.
I hate you.
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