Okay, I understand the concept. I think the idea is good. But I think that the concept and I are going to go head to head.
I went in today. I hadn’t lost any weight. (That’s not surprising, since my period restarted today with a bang.) But the lady said, “Well, if this were the third week, we’d be tweaking your program.” (Read: taking food away.) Then she looked at my sheet, “How big was this potato?” Ah, hah. They think I don’t know what a small potato is. But I do. A small, miniature, minute potato is what I had for dinner last night. 3.5 ounces.
I’m hacked. Encouragement I can use. Help I can use. But it seems like they’re the food police. That doesn’t go over big with me. You think I don’t care about losing the weight? I care enough to have given them $800 and counting. I guarantee you I don’t just drop money like that on things. I’m tight. (Okay, not as tight as some people I know, but still.)
And I’m grumpy. It’s hard to eat this food. It doesn’t taste great. None of it is comfort food. I’m not starving, but I feel like I never get to eat. Then when I eat, I don’t want any. I’m too full to eat. Aargh.