I’m now on Day 4,985.251 of the Plainsman’s Diet, but it feels a lot longer than that. Before sharing with you the incredible story of my diet success, I need to respond to a few questions that have been posed to me by people whose stature in my life demands an answer.
Mrs. Wankmeister: “Why you wanna be a more skinnier? It’s a already a bad elbow poking in the bed, next time soon it’s a pointy bones gonna take out my eye.”
Concerned Friend at Party: “Why are you trying to lose weight? You’re already very unhealthy looking. I mean that in a bad way, though.”
Son: “What’s with the weight loss crap? Less muscle equals weaker. Why would anyone want to get weaker?”
All My Cycling Friends: “WHAT’S YOUR SECRET, DUDE????”
The Plainsman’s Diet was developed by the hardy men and women who crossed the Great Plains seeking their fortune in the American West. It’s chief (and only) feature is constant, unrelenting hunger temporarily assuaged by pitifully inadequate amounts of food.
With the Plainsman’s Diet, you can eat anything you want as long as it doesn’t stop you from being so fucking hungry that you chew the inside of your cheek hoping to get a flap or two of raw skin to tide you over ’til dinner. As I mentioned in a previous post, there are two unmistakable signs that the PD is working its magic: You are so faint with hunger and so consumed with the idea of food that you think you will go mad. Second, everyone and everything looks like a hamburger.
If you think I’m about to recommend that you embark on the PD, you’re wrong. First off, you don’t have the willpower. No one does. The misery and discomfort are too extreme as your stomach rumbles and churns and grinds, no longer begging for a morsel but demanding that you act in conformance with THE dictate of survival: Eat.
Second, the Plainsman’s Diet comes with a special “Failure Attachment” that will make you really, really miserable. Unlike other diets, where you can blame the composition of the diet, or the bad health effects, or the expense of the supplements, or whatever, with the PD you will simply fail because you cave to hunger. This is awful, because it has nothing to do with willpower and everything to do with evolution. We are programmed to rebel and rebel mightily when denied nourishment. As Mao said, “Revolution comes from the roar of an empty belly.”
Yeah, yeah. Just give us the plan.
Okay, here it is.
Workout: 1.5 hours at the gym
Breakfast: Coffee with lowfat milk, piece of toast
Workout: Ride bike to work
Lunch: One slice of skinny bread with a translucent layer of peanut butter and an apple. More coffee, but with whole milk.
Workout: Ride home from work
Workout: One hour at the gym
Dinner: One large serving of spaghetti with meat sauce, salad, yogurt with berries for dessert
Midnight workout: Wake up with vicious hunger pangs so sharp that they actually hurt. Like, I mean “hurt” hurt.
Workout: 1.5 hours in the gym, lifting little pink 5-lb. girly dumbbells and twirling a medicine ball
Breakfast: Coffee, dollop of lowfat milk, narrow slice of toast with a smidgeon of jam
Workout: 42-mile Donut Ride Beatdown with coffee
Lunch: Bagel with one egg, some cream cheese, and a slice of smoked salmon. Water.
Workout: Lay in bed and pray for dinner to come quickly
Dinner: Tiny, shrunken, miserable little dwarf filet of fish, micro-bowl of rice, micro-bowl of miso soup, spinach, midget bowl of berries and yogurt
Workout: Sit at the computer and cruise food websites. Getting a woody looking at http://www.chickenfriedsteak.com, but too lethargic to do anything about it.
Breakfast: Poppyseed bagel with pathetically thin smear of jam. Coffee. Lowfat milk.
Second Breakfast: More coffee. Yummy scone at Lofty Coffee with walnuts.
Workout: 62-mile Birthday Ride from Hell via Buttraper Cave with SPY and Swami’s wankers
Workout snack: Mid-ride, borrowed Rice Krispies ball with raisins from Erik. Staved off death and made it back to Encinitas.
Lunch: Small bowl of oatmeal with walnuts, blueberries, no sugar or milk. Coffee with a dollop of half-and-half. Man that shit tastes good!
Post lunch snack: Apple
Workout: Go to the office and work on lawsuit. Insane with hunger like you can’t even begin to believe.
Dinner: Big plate of spaghetti with meat sauce, two large helpings of salad, three slabs of bread, small bowl of berries and yogurt
Workout: Roll from side to side of bed hoping that breakfast will come quickly
Workout: One hour at the gym lifting more tiny weights and falling off the exercise ball. Ouch.
Breakfast: Coffee with lowfat milk, mega itty bitty piece of toast with slightly thicker layer of jam and leftover 1/4 banana sliced on top
Post-breakfast Office Snack: More coffee, but a dollop of whole milk
Post snack snack: Apple. More coffee.
Workout: Hunger shudders (bend over desk and shake and pray for lunch to start, shivering from toes to ears)
Lunch: PB half-sandwich. More coffee.
Post-lunch snack: More coffee. Chew fingernails and hope there’s enough grime underneath them to count as food.
Workout: More robitussin/aspirin/Xanax medicine ball twirling. Sit down every five minutes from hunger.
Post-workout snack: Hot green tea. Bowl of boiled soybeans. Glass of iced tea.
Dinner: Not sure yet, but hoping it’s soon, as it’s already 8:04 PM and no good smells are coming out of the kitchen.
So, does it work?
Yep. I’ve dropped ten pounds in about four weeks. I have a two-and three-quarters-pack, and my ostrich middle is gone. My skinny jeans have a couple of extra inches in them. In the waist, I mean.
And although it could be a coincidence, I’m only getting dropped on the climbs after the first three minutes, rather than after the first three seconds, and as we all know, hanging around on a climb for an extra minute or so as stronger riders pummel you senseless is worth being completely fucking miserable beyond belief for the remaining 6.9999 days of the week.
Another big positive to always being ravenously hungry, in addition to relentless unhappiness mixed with profound depression, is that you actually taste food again. The moment a morsel, any morsel, hits your tongue, it’s a flavor explosion.
“Food!” your brain shrieks. “Beautiful, lovely, tasty, aromatic, flavorful, delectable ambrosia of the gods, this is the finest cuisine I’ve ever had!” When Cervantes said that hunger is the best sauce, I wonder if he knew it was also true for peanut butter and soybeans?
In a terrible and ill sort of way, profound hunger sharpens your appreciation for taste, even as the constant deprivation of nutrients causes your stomach to shrink into a tiny little pouch incapable of holding very much, with the result that after a few bites you’re pretty darned full. For ten minutes, anyway.
I had a really clever and insightful ending for this, but the sudden wave of hunger that toppled me from my chair and has me panting on my knees in the middle of the floor as I desperately nose the carpet for crumbs made me forget it. And it’s not coming back, at least until after dinner.
[Note to reader: This post has received a Profanity Rating of +1 from the Clean Bloggers of America Anti-Profanity Coalition.]