Mostly Semantics

Well, first ‘interesting’ poop today. I mean… not really, but. I woke up and drank my salt water, then I went back to bed, but since I had already slept ’til noon, I was ready to read rather than sleep more. I was near the end of the book I was reading, and I definitely was just holding it in for too long as I wanted to finish. As I read the last sentence I practically ran to my bathroom and just barely managed to position myself before dumping out. The salt water is running through me like a sieve at this point - 15-20 minutes and it’s time.

I’m pretty fucking sick of the lemonade at this point, but I’m over halfway done, so… whatever. I went to a law school graduation function this evening that also doubled as a barbecue. Since the host is a serious foodie, I pretty much knew I was walking into a nightmare of temptation, and… I was right. Homemade pulled pork with coleslaw, some amazing-looking creamed corn, pasta salad, fruit salad. Fuck, it looked good. Anyway, that’s basically it. I still have juicer-made lemon juice from yesterday - it looks kind of gross, actually, thick like it has some of the rind in it or something, but honestly, I do not care, I just use it and it’s fine. Tomorrow I will juice up another bag of lemons. The really lousy thing is that even though I’m so close to the finish line, it’s actually not until a week from Tuesday that I could eat what I want - the last day of the lemonade is Thursday, but then Friday and Saturday I’m supposed to just drink orange juice (oh, what a twist! what a treat!), then Sunday is fruit salad day (I… I vaguely remember what it’s like to chew things) and Monday - vegetable soup! Vegetable soup! VEGETABLE SOUP! Ugh. I actually hate vegetable soup. This will probably be the worst day of all of this. Especially since I’ll be at the beach and everyone else will have delicious food. But, whatever. The scale said 350 this morning. If you go back to two weeks ago, the scale at the zoo (this has actually been a running joke - yes, I weighed myself on the scale at the zoo. Because, well, I’m enormous) and it said 365, and later that night the home scale agreed with it. So, if we assume it’s correct, I’ve lost maybe 15 pounds? But who knows, right. Fucking worthless scale.

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