Since yesterday was Thanksgiving here in Calgary, and you were the last thing I ate, I can only assume that the following was ALL YOUR FAULT. Why did you keep me tossing and turning last night? Aren’t you chock full of lovely tryptophan? After last night’s performance in the dream arena, I’m inclined to think you may be chock full of hallucinogens. Because of you Turkey, I had the following dreams:
- I dreamed I joined the Army reserves, right now, at 35. I dreamed my drill sergeant made us run miles and miles to keep up (surprisingly I had no problem). Then the drill sergeant decided to demonstrate an upside down headlock on me. I held it together for a record 80 seconds, but then my nose filled up with snot and I couldn’t breathe.
- I dreamed about elevators again. I do that a lot, but these were worse than normal. The elevators were open platforms that moved at high rates of speed. Awesome.
- Then I dreamed I was in a strange land, forced to find fae objects of power in order to get out. I can kind of blame this on all the Karen Marie Moning books I’ve been reading..
- There’s one more, it’s right on the edge of my mind, but I can’t quite remember it yet. Likely I’ll look at a pear while grocery shopping and remember the whole thing. I’ll update when/if that happens. UPDATE: I just remembered the fourth dream, ironically while composing my grocery list. I dreamed that one of my favorite shopping sites, Dealextreme, was smuggling drugs in the middle of giant novelty erasers. As always in dreams, I was the hero and I busted the case wide open when I found drugs in the middle of a hot-dog shaped eraser.
In addition to the nocturnal weirdness darling Turkey, I have aches and pains like the drill sergeant did in fact demonstrate a headlock on me, and my brain is having a hard time believing that we got any sleep at all last night.
In closing sweet Turkey, I plan to eat the hell out of you for the next few days. So if we could come to an agreement that you won’t disturb my dreams, that would be great. I mean you were already dead when I bought you from Sobey’s, I didn’t even swing the axe. Therefore I see no reason for you to haunt me. Also, you are delicious. In a sandwich. With mayo and salt and pepper.
Just before Lent, hubs had to go for some tests for what we all thought were some nasty gall stones. It turned out to be something
about his liver, prompting our family Doctor to urge my husband to go on a low carb diet (his actual words were “as in NO carbs”). I’d been on a low carb diet before, and I knew with the Lenten season approaching, it could pose some special issues for our family.
So here we are a few weeks post Lent, and after huffing and puffing my way upstairs to bed the other night, I did the unthinkable, I GOT ON THE SCALE.
It was terrifying.
But it did explain why I feel so sloth-like lately. I decided maybe we both should eat better for a while. I’ve dug out my low-carb cook books and this is our (mostly my) journey.
Stevia is the devil. Who the hell thought of this stuff. They should be shot and suffocated with piles of the vile substance. I made the grave mistake of putting it in my coffee this morning. It’s as if someone coated my tongue in the taste “sweet” and asked me to drink my coffee around it. The day was much improved when I found 4 packages of splenda hanging around in an old shopping bag. Also found out that the pre-cooked chicken from Wal-Mart is pretty disgusting. I think it must be super processed, but I’ll just be grilling up my own chicken and freezing it in serving-sized packages. But the chicken did keep me from being hungry, too bad it was mostly nausea.
Day started off with a lovely headache (continued from the night before). I’m used to this, whenever I cut my carb intake I feel like hell hung-over for about 3 days. Once the majority of the sugar works its way out of my system I’m ok. Stuck to the plan all day. Drank more water. Peed every 30 minutes. It’s like being pregnant again without the free license to eat junk. Kidlets got to have grilled cheese sandwiches while hubs and I had salmon, so they think this is a great deal. Since it’s only been two days, I didn’t sniff the bread as I was making the sandwiches. Just give me time.
Woke up with the same headache. Determined not to let it get the better of me, I scoured the medicine cabinet and found a lone Sudafed. 20 minutes later: right as rain. Speaking of which, it’s been cool and rainy here for the last 3 days. It’s like the sunshine misses me eating carbs. Or perhaps I’m just getting hungry fanciful. Pre-cooked turkey from Wal-Mart is slightly less disgusting than the chicken, but not enough that I’ll buy it again. REAL FOOD IS ALWAYS BETTER. Except for crystal light. One of my mom’s friends from the States brought me up 2 boxes of Raspberry Lemonade last week, I threatened hubs with mutilation of he touched them. Just realised tomorrow is a potluck at work. I’m going to start praying now. Seriously. I wonder if they’ll catch on if I call in sick?
Day of the Baby Shower/Potluck. THERE ARE 5 DIFFERENT KINDS OF DESSERT. It was awful. I ate mostly meatballs and 2 kinds of dip with no dip-to-mouth conveyance. I lucked out with the fruit tray(melon and berries), so all told, I didn’t do too bad. Still have the headache. I’m thinking I should name it seeing as how we now seem to be roommates in my skull, if you have any suggestions you can leave them in the comments. Found out today that Hubs has gone through AN ENTIRE JAR of pickles in 4 days. Also he cheated and weighed himself today and he is down 10 lbs in 4 days. I HATE MEN.
Saturday. Ahhhhh….Saturday. Woke up stupid early because Em’s sleepover guest needed to be up for a food drive. My headache came with me. He is kind of an asshole. Today wasn’t too bad, eating well including take out (swiss chalet). Picked up Spence’s birthday cake and had to resist tripping with it in the parking lot just for the excuse to lick icing off my jacket. I really hope this headache makes an exit before the party tomorrow. 9 hyped up kids in a large play centre is formidable enough.
Spence’s party. Insanity on crack and wheels. While I managed to resist the pizza, pop and cupcakes, I should have remembered to bring something for Hubs and I to eat. Thankfully, eating less sugar/carbs has improved my hypoglycemia and I no longer physically fall to pieces if I don’t eat soon enough.
Down 3.8 lbs according to my fancy-pants scale that measures body fat and tells me if it’s a bad hair day. For a week that included a pot-luck & two birthday parties for Spence, not a bad total. I’m still battling the headaches, some quick
googling research shows that it might take up to two weeks for my body to get used to the lack of carbs. The headache is apparently my brain telling me it would like some pasta please. That doesn’t make it any harder, no, NOT AT ALL. I’m holding off on starting a solid excercise program for a few days. The truth is, my head hurts so bad every time I move I feel like I might throw up, and I’m not that desperate to lose weight! So in a few days when the headaches ease up, I will start to move a little more. Hubs told me he is down almost 10 lbs. I just about junk-punched him when I heard that. I hate how much easier men seem to lose weight. I have to keep reminding my self that I vowed to honour and cherish him, but I’m fairly certain whoever wrote those vows was eating a nice challah or something.