I lay in bed at 3 am. I first lay on my back, then switch to my side, and then back. I check my cell phone for texts or emails. I turn on the television and watch an hour of Lockup on MSNBC. My stomach feels empty and sore and there is nothing I can do about it. I take two Tylenol® PMs as well as more than one full dose of Vicks® NyQuil®. The NyQuil® tastes far more delicious than it has any right to be. All I can think of is food. I get out of bed and walk to the kitchen, where all I find are empty Diet Coke® cans and ice cream from 1984. “I was alive in 1984,” I tell myself. “It wasn’t that long ago.” One bite of the 27-year-old ice cream proves to me that time hasn’t been good to everybody. Also, ice cream shouldn’t be green or smell like my diaper did in its inaugural year.
I toss and turn for another few hours until I finally find myself waking up the next morning. The diet is taking its toll. I am always hungry. I almost can’t stand the sight, smell, or taste of turkey sandwiches. Recently, (today) I decided to change up my sandwich and got chicken breast instead. Though it has slightly more calories and fat, it is a sacrifice that I had to make to insure my sanity. Aside from the physical pain of dieting, I also have to experience of humility as I unwrap my Subway® sub at whatever restaurant where my family/friends are eating.
So far, I have lost 35 pounds. July 15 could not get here fast enough. In case you did not know, I am holding open auditions for a date on that very evening. So far, about 40 men have signed up, as well as three women. I am flattered at this result. Though I am not gay, never have so many people, ( in this case men), willingly signed up for a lovely evening with myself. Of the three women, two are probably kidding, and the third may or may not. All of this data means that you have an overwhelmingly possible shot of me buying food for you. Until then, I will continue drowning myself in dry sandwiches and Baked! Lay’s®.