It's official. I've now lost 40 pounds since my surgery on August 11th.
Here's the skinny on all that. My nutritionist (perky Stacy) wants me to get back to my college weight, which was about 4 pounds. I was 24 when I went to college (Viet Nam, the Navy and several other hiccups occurred along the way) and I had a metabolism in those days. Hence, no matter what I poured down my throat (Burger King, Booze, Boy Butter) it didn't stick around. In fact, it didn't stick to anything, not even my ribs. Those were the good old days.
Nowdays, of course, I can LOOK at a piece of pecan pie and gain 5 pounds.
But those days are over. No more "pieces" of anything. From now on, it'll be "bites", if even that.
Still, I think that trying to get back to my college weight (okay, it was 190 pounds) might be a little unreasonable. I was kind of hoping to get back to my weight around age 30... ish. Say, 210 or 220. In which case I only have to lose another 20 or 30 pounds and I'll be done. But to get to 190 I'll have to drop another 50 pounds and that sounds way too much like a year-long project to me.
People ask me if I crave anything. No, I answer, because no matter what I ingest (and it's still mostly liquids) I fill up after two swallows. My new tummy only holds about 4 ounces of anything.
Well, that's not completely true. There is one thing I crave above all else. It's not prime rib or pork chops or baked potatoes or asparagus with hollandaise sauce.
Not microwave popcorn, either, but corn popped in a big pot on the stove and then smothered in melted "I Can't Believe JoyZeeBoy Thinks This Crap is Butter."
It's worse when I think about going to the movies and not being able to have a 10 pound bag of popcorn cooked in God-Only-Knows-What, dripping with crankcase leavings and washed down by a Bladder-Buster of my favorite beverage, 64 ounces of Diet Coke which is higher in caffeine to offset the loss of sugar -- wasn't that thoughtful of the Coca-Cola people?
So, you see, I don't really have any cravings.
At least not until I lose another 20 pounds. Or 50, if that Nazi Nutritionist of mine, Stacy, gets her way.