Tweaking like a meth addict

The Carnivorous Regime continues, with some success and a lot of playing around. The only dairy I eat these days is heavy cream, used to boost the fat content of stuff like chicken breasts and tilapia (the only fish I can eat that doesn't gross me out). It is carefully measured out as well. Red meat was banished temporarily, only to be brought back. Tonight I ate whole eggs for the first time in a while to see if they affect me. Still keeping green stuff to the weekends. I dutifully plug in my numbers into Fitday, averaging about a 60/40 fat/protein ratio and about 1700 calories. And I go to the gym at 4:30 in the morning for either a couple miles on the elliptical or lifting.

My suspicions about my scale being off? Correct. I bought an analog scale and found I was 220. And I kept being 220. The little voices started whispering. Maybe Good Calories, Bad Calories is bullshit. Maybe you'll have to start doing low-fat like you used to. Up the fat. Lower the protein. Get rid of the veggies.

At the same time, though, there were encouraging signs. My jeans were getting extraordinarily loose in the legs and ass. A favorite pair of black suede ankle boots that were sitting in my closet for five years because last time I tried to wear them the zipper only went up a half inch could now be zipped all the way (and worn to a concert). A pair of pull-on khakis that I'd bought three years ago no longer gave me a continent-swallowing camel toe and could be worn in public. My original engagement ring--yes, I have two--which similarly sat in my ring holder for about the same amount of time as the boots in my closet now sparkles on my right ring finger. There is a definite hollow beneath my breast bone that doesn't require me sucking in my stomach to see it. I sleep a little better. My nails are growing nicely. My gums look awesome.

And Tuesday the choir of angels sang as the scale read 215. The scale at the gym was 218.5, leading me to believe that this is accurate. There was joy and perhaps a little squeeing.

I don't miss veggies or sweets. Heavy cream, a past bugaboo, looks like it can be controlled. The only thing I want now is for my weight to start with a 1. Maybe before my birthday in two months. Maybe sometime this year.