Dieting: Day Three Of Hell

Diet Log, Day Three.  I woke up angry.  Irritable.

I've spent the day equaling cursing my doctor and my love of food.  Oh why can't I learn to not swallow the food after chewing?

There's a faint whispering coming from the pantry.  I think there is a pack of Milanos I missed.  Damn you, Pepperidge Farm!

The Lean Cuisine was all box.  Such a tease.  I think the container is made of lead to falsely lure me down the road of choosing meals by weight.  

I contemplated eating the package again.  Surely there can't be that many calories and it's probably tastier than what was inside.  I ate the faux-Chinese dish with toothpicks because the chopsticks wouldn't fit inside the tiny Barbie-sized compartments.

The cat's had tuna for lunch.  I've never wanted tuna more in my life.  I don't even like tuna, really.  Damn you, cats!

The linoleum in the laundry room reminds me of cheese.   Mmmm, cheese.

Spent an hour searching for the food scale.  Measured the chicken for dinner.  Measured again.  Beat the scale on the counter and measured again.  Damn you, scale!

The dog was licking something off the floor.  I contemplated wrestling him out of the way for whatever it was, but thought better of it.  I've seen him in the litter box a time or two.

My oldest came home from school and baked a frozen pizza.  I stared at the other half on the counter without blinking for an eternity.  I hate frozen pizzas, but it smelled like Heaven on a cardboard crust.  Damn you, Red Baron!

I feel weak, people keep posting photos of delicious dishes on Facebook.  Taunting me from afar.  I licked my monitor, ever so slowly, in an attempt to trick my brain into believing I was having some of that caramel gooey pineapple upside-down cake.  It didn't work and I had to brush my teeth.  Damn you, Facebook!

I must avoid Pinterest for a while.

Day three, only 362 more to reach my goal.  The voices have started needling me.  They told me to give up, but I refuse.  We argued for an hour.  I won.

For now.