My husband and I just started Diet version 3.5 (because versions 1.0 through 3.0 worked out so well). I’m not exactly sure what it means but supposedly we’re eating smaller portions and more lean proteins, blah blah blah. I’ve never been so hungry in my life.

Last night I cut smoked salmon into strips over romaine with boiled fingerlings tossed in a lemon-Dijon vinaigrette with shallots and dill. It was tasty. I envisioned it on a chilled plate for a ladies’ luncheon accompanied by a glass of white wine and a nice plate of cheese and a crusty baguette. That would be lovely. But I really wanted a cheeseburger. Or pizza. Or just about anything with copious amounts of cheese, deep-fried and/or greasy.

It’s not that I don’t want to lose weight, I do. I lost the baby weight but going from fatter back down to fat isn’t really cause for celebration and I still can’t fit into my clothes anyway. Things have uh, settled in different places now. I’m happy that my husband’s on board — despite the fact that he couldn’t get fat if he tried. (I hate him.) But for some reason, lately, all I want to do is feed my face.

I find myself anticipating the cooler weather to come when I can turn on the oven and cook things like mac and cheese, roast chicken and pot roast. In any event, the whole “light, low-fat, lean protein” thing I had going on last night was not cutting it. But, I committed to 3.5. And hubby’s smug “Oh, this diet is so easy for me” look on his face when I complained how hungry I was annoyed me enough to pack it in and go to bed hungry.

This morning, I had 3 pieces of toast for breakfast… with extra butter. I can’t wait for lunch.


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