For years I lived a lie thinking I once had an encounter with a bear in a dense forest in Eastern Europe. One night when I was feeling inquisitive I asked my mam if this had ever happened. It turns out it was a wild boar.
Needless to say, when another slightly odd memory sprung up from the dark corners of my mind this afternoon, I was weary asking my mam to validate it for me. Having seen the wreck I was yesterday, she's more than a little worried about my state of well being and I knew that if I asked something silly, she'd shove a head of brocolli in my mouth faster than you can say "delirious much?"
I really have to start timing my entrances beyond my bedroom door better. I waltzed unannounced into the kitchen this afternoon to come across a sight that made my heart weep.
Think of the biggest bowl of steaming hot pasta you can imagine. Topped with gooey grated cheddar cheese.
"Macaroni and cheese" my little brother slyly announced before grabbing the bowl and moving as far away from me as possible. He must have seen it in my eyes; the big flashing sign saying "WANT! WANT! DANGER! DANGER!"
You know those Lynx ad's where the girls throw themselves at the freshly scented typically good looking male on the street (read: model)? Well to me this bowl of pasta was the equivalent of that dishy male and I very nearly had my own Bam Chicka Wah Wah moment. Sad as that is to say.
I sulkily prepared another pint of juice as I inhaled the flavours of the kitchen. In the midst of relishing the lovely aromas, I remembered: macaroane cu zahar.
"Mam, did I ever eat... sugary pasta?" I tentatively asked, getting ready to make a run for it.
It turns out I had and I breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
Macaroane cu zahar is pasta prepared with butter, vanilla flavouring and sugar. The last time I ate it was when I was four years old, a treat prepared by my grandmother who was a minder in my creche. Even back then I was fussy with milky dishes which were a favourite on the lunchtime menu and being her little princess, granny always made me something to my (voluntary) lactose intolerant tastes.
The rest of my day I've spent reminiscing of all the amazing food she used to cook for me. The time we happily ate pampushki cu usturoi (chunks of home made bread dipped in a garlic and butter sauce) by candle light as a storm raged outside, patlagele vinete murate (stuffed pickled aubergines) after a day of playing in the snow with my sania (sleigh), placinte cu bostan, varza or brinza (a pastry filled with different flavours like pumpkin, cabbage or cheese)... she was best cook in the world. And if she knew of this diet plan I've adopted, she'd shake her head at me and say "Dianuta, Dianuta, Dianuta...."
Surprisingly I'm feeling wonderful today. Compared to yesterday I'm on cloud 9 (albeit, it's a little ashy). I had the best nights sleep in a long while and I woke this morning feel rejuvenated. My headache is gone, there is no sign of dizziness or weakness. No restlessness and the hunger pangs are more or less non existent.
I've befriended my syrupy juice friend. He makes me happy. The peppery kick re-awakens my senses with every sip and the sugary syrup has me bouncing off the walls (and falling into them, I am the clumsiest person ever). Today I've had four pints. Slowly but surely upping the ante.
The Salt Water Flush this morning worked a treat. I spent some quality time with the toilet and now know the package descriptions on pretty much every product in the bathroom. Never mind journalism, maybe I can get myself a job in Boots.
My tummy has been a gurgling mess all day. The instant I finished my salty mix, like a giant snake, a dull pain worked its way around my abdomen and I had to lay down.
On an extremely positive note- I've lost another kg.
That's five pounds in four days.
I've been trying to work how many pampushki that makes....
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