The DietChef Thing: Day 9

Hey everyone.

Well, the see-saw didn't quite go down, in fact it's mostly been still up, this has, on the whole, been a very good day, it didn't start giving me the bumps until very late this evening, but then we did have a serious wobble. Oh no, is that silly old bear going to go on about pizza again, I hear you groan? What, at nine in the evening? Well, anything's possible, if unlikely! Now, are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.

This morning my eyes are on a go-slow. "Open", I command. "What for?" gurgles my left eye. "'tain't morning yet!" snuffles my right eye, and they determinedly stay closed. I threaten them with a hammer and chisel and, groaning horribly, they creek open.

Well, once that little caper's over, I manage to get the rest of me into awake mode, it takes some doing, don't know why I'm feeling so weary this morning. It's Thursday so Becky's here. She takes me through the usual morning routine. While I'm eating my treacle pecan granola and yogurt, she casually tells me that she won't be here for the next few weeks as she's had a job promotion.

Slight diversion down a side road here. One of the hardest things about having to have care workers in my life is that I get used to them and they to me. I get to know them as far as is possible when I only see them a certain number of minutes a day and as far as is sensible, they get to know me and how I do things. We build up, again, as far as is sensible, a rapport. And then, one day, with some warning if you're lucky and if you're not, without any warning at all, poof! They're gone. Then you have to start the whole process over with someone else. It's very hard to explain, for those who have never had to have personal care, what this does to you, to your sense of security and to your nerves, or rather, to mine. Working with a carer whom I don't know and who doesn't know me or the way things run in this house makes me feel severely anxious and out of control, horribly embarrassed over the least little thing, panicked, frightened and furious that I have to have this at all. So when Becky tells me that she's going to be away for several weeks, and maybe for longer, I suddenly feel the floor fall out from under my feet. However, she's given me warning, and that's half the battle, I have time to get prepared, it's only for one day a week and I make a huge effort not to get freaked out. I succeed better than I thought I'd be able to. One point to me. Lady Willpower seems to be on a roll at the moment.

The morning unfolds. I plunge once more into nostalgia land, ferreting out articles and video footage about vintage games, gadgets, old computers, all kinds of interesting things. I'm also chatting to people and helping out a friend who is starting her own DietChef plan today. My virtual baby in my phone is deciding to be cranky, yikes! Oh well, all distractions from the subject of food!

Before I know what's happening, it's time for lunch. I have a new soup to try today, this is Mushroom soup. One of my absolutely favorite kind of soups in the whole world. If this is nasty I am seriously going to be crushed. As I open the pouch the aroma drifting up is reassuring. It smells like a mushroom soup ought to. As I pour into the pan there's no nasty liquidy pouring sound, we have smoothe, rich, velvety thickness. I add my usual pinch of salt and heat it gently, hardly able to wait as the delicious earthy autumnal smell assaults my nose, filling my brain with bewitching memories of early morning fields, sparkling with dawn's first dew, and of going out to hunt for the big mushrooms that grew there. I can hardly wait till it's ready to eat and I nearly fall over my feet getting to the sofa. Finally I dip in my spoon.

First bite: delicious! So, so good! You wouldn't know this was a diet soup. It's so full of flavour, rich, creamy and yummy. It's lovely and smoothe but not gloopy, like a canned mushroom soup often is. There is a slight texture, and I can taste a chopped herb, is it flatleaf parsley, I'm not sure, but the fresh greenness is just gorgeous. I really don't want the generous bowlful to ever end.

The afternoon goes on, I while it away in my usual manner, helping out when I'm needed, talking to friends, nerdling on social networks, spending time with my little ones, all that good stuff. Around five I get terribly hungry as usual, can't eat for an hour so I start watching a movie, I figure I'll stop for dinner and then go back and watch the end of it. Only I get drawn into the story and it's twenty after six before I know where I am. More than time I ate. Tonight, lamb hotpot, my my, this is certainly a day for new things. I cook it, together with my usual serving of greens, and I'm sitting to the table in five minutes.

First bite: yum! Again, this is really good, you wouldn't know this was a low calorie meal. The question then has to be asked, if they can do such lovely ones, why the awful slop like chili con carne and chicken korma, not to mention that shudder making tuna pasta bake? Oh well. this is a mixture of meltingly tender minced lamb, not ground up to baby food this time, in a lovely rich gravy that hasn't even heard of the word gluey, with onions and carrots and topped with thinly sliced potato. The whole thing is butter tender, savory and scrumptious. The crunchy tender greens are an excellent foil to it. It doesn't take long to find itself a new home in my stomach!

So, all was going really really well, it had been such a good day. I'd had lovely meals, I hadn't been seriously hungry. And then, something I read triggered the. Most almighty chocolate craving. I'm not going to say what it was, because that wouldn't be fair. People have lives and things are going to get talked about, things which include chocolate, and hey, I even joined in. I thought I was totally immune to chocolate cravings, I'm obviously a zillion per cent wrong. the stupid thing about the chocolate craving beast is that it hits me, because everyone is different, at the most weird times.

See, yesterday at this very time, I was writing about turtles in the most expressive, food porn language you can imagine, wasn't I? I was trying to make it as if you could almost feel what I was feeling, like you could almost feel that turtle in your hand and in your mouth. Now I could do that, and it didn't stir a heartbeat for me. The chocolate craving beast stayed curled up inside me, fast asleep, he didn't so much as flutter one itty bitty little eyelash. And yet today, someone mentions a kind of chocolate I don't even like, for freak's sake, and he yawn's, stretches, flexes his big, bulging muscles, puts out his long, green tongue, looks at me with his great, big, red eyes and says: "Feed me!"

What would you imagine I did. You, you who have read my babbling from day 0, you who might have just stumbled across this because you were googling diet chef, you who keep coming across this on Twitter and having seen this for the last ten days straight, yep, it's ten, counting day 0, have finally clicked on it to find out what can be of such importance that this idiotic woman has to blog about it every single day. I wish I could guess what you think I did about it. I bet every one of you wants me to stop rambling, just get on and tell you! Your wish is my command.

Well, I didn't give in. But I had another wobble and I didn't quite cry, but it was a very close thing. There were a few sniffs and a drip or two. The chocolate craving beast roared very loud and it was hard, very hard, I think probably the hardest it's ever been since I started this journey, but he didn't get fed.

I want to say a word here about what it's like living with a person on a diet. It's tough. Being hungry makes me bad-tempered, impatient, acidicly sharp tongued and snarky. I have tried very hard to see this in myself and to see why it's happening, and not take my hungriness out on my husband. But there's more than that. My husband makes me endless cups of tea without complaint, washes up the extra dishes I make, patiently scans food packs for me on weekends in addition to the hundred and one other things he needs to do for me then, and, most valuable of all, never ever hectres or bullies me. And it's hard for him, it really is, because he hates it when I have a melt down. He said this to me tonight as he held me and helped me get myself back together after the chocolate wobble. He's the kind of person that, if he could lassoo the moon and put it into my lap, he would, supposing it would do any good, or would look pretty. He wants to make my life as happy and full of nice, pretty, joyful things as he can, to make every day as rich for me as he can, and he so does. So when he sees me getting upset it's hard for him. So I'm going to have to get better. For my own sake, and even more for his. Because I want to make life as wonderful for him as he makes it for me, and even more because I definitely don't like seeing him unhappy either.

Well, by the time we get ourselves back together, it's tea and snack time. More new things to try, chocolate chip oat cookies, really? And two of them! When I pick up the little package I know why. They are very thin and very small. Let's see what they taste like.

First bite: oh my ever living heavenly cats! Yum in a haystack! Thin, really really crisp, really oaty, really chocolatey, they taste real, not like those horrible weight watcher cookies which I so detest! The only trouble is, I could eat about four more!

So, all in all, we'll chalk this one up as a good day, even with the wobble, I guess I'm learning I have to expect wobbles. I suppose as long as I don't give in to them it still counts as ok. Just take a point off the score, shrug, try to do better, learn from it and keep on truckin'. Which I am. Which I will. Goodnight everyone.

Food eaten today.

Breakfast: Treacle Pecan Granola, plain, no fat yogurt, black coffee.

Lunch: Creamy Mushroom Soup.

Dinner: Minced Lamb Hotpot, serving of sliced spring greens.

Snack: Dark Chocolate Chip Oaties.

Drinks: Tea, no milk or sugar.

Bad? No.

Are you hungry? No. Wow!

Mood? Relaxed.

Music: Phil Vassar: Just Another Day In Paradise.