The Citrus Crash

It was by no means a pretty tune. And despite being on loop for an entire day, it didn't grow on me. That's headaches for you. Or maybe it was a migraine. I never know how to tell the difference. I merely profess to having one or the other depending on how much pity I'm looking for.

I would say my diet personality for Day One could be compared to that of a fire breather. I was feeling risky, brave, adventurous and yet extremely cautious. Day Two I was more of a mad scientist; feeling experimental and inquisitive and at times frustrated by my formula. Day Three I was plain and simply emo.

Dizziness, lack of concentration, restlessness, nausea, thumping headaches and weakness. A Jack-in-the-Box of emotions that startled me out of my sleep this morning and refused to bugger off for the entire day.

I was expecting day three to be difficult. But I didn't think it would be quite this bad.

I contemplated giving up a number of times throughout the morning. In particular when I made my first batch of the Maple Syrup drink and some lemon juice squirted me in the eye. And again later in the afternoon when I discovered I had ran out of my stash of lemons (or maybe I just couldn't see clearly, I was temporarily blinded in one eye after all).

I took it as a sign. I'm a true believer in signs.

The mother of all signs was my weight loss. Or lack of. The scales remained the same. No, I lie. They were .1 of a kg higher than the previous day. My heart sank when the numbers finally settled and dropped the bomb. I had never felt so disheartened.

I'm feeling crap on the inside, I'm not looking any better on the outside. So what's the point, I asked myself. The point is I don't want to give up and admit to being a quitter. I've become too attached to this now and have to see it through.

Understandably, I passed on the Salt Water Flush today. I'm miserable enough as it is. And spending quality time with Mr. Loo isn't going to make things any better. Besides, I had to go to our french magazine launch and didn't want to risk spending the entire evening in the toilets. Although being the European Parliament offices, I'd image them to be quite nice. Or as nice as public toilets go. I have a horrible relationship with them and therefore cut all interaction unless extremely necessary.

The bus journey home from town this evening was torturous. With blurry vision, jelly legs and feeling faint I gladly got into my dad's car at my home stop.

My family and friends are being extremely kind to me. I'm not looking for pity, after all, I'm choosing to subject myself to this. But it is nice to have them smother me. They've been good on the food front too, being extra careful not to eat in front of me (apart from one apple munching rascal) or stock up on all the things I love most.

My cravings today have subsided. I'm simply hungry. But not so bad that I can't resist temptation. The true test was being in the newsagents earlier with an assortment of sweets, chocolates and crisps at my fingertips. I didn't even contemplate buying any. I just paid for my packs of chewing gum and walked out. Pride intact.

So aside from choosing to keep climbing the Mount Everest of diets, the second most important decision of the day faces me now. I have two mugs of tea in front of me.

To Dandelion or to Peppermint? That is the question.