So I went to see my orthodontist last Monday and we’re supposed to be in the final stretch. I didn’t think she’d mean that literally.
I have elastics all over my mouth that I now look like a low-budget Hannibal Lecter in lockdown.
(Internet file photo.)
Good grief.
It’s just as well. In the two weeks that I was off the Paleo diet, I must have gained two thousand pounds. I refuse to get on the scale because I can plainly see for myself the damage that’s been done.
Well, I’ve more or less lived on ice cream for the past two weeks. And everything else that I am not supposed to have. What can I do? I seem to have space for everything else that I’m not supposed to have.
It got so bad that even I was wishing that the end of February would come sooner. And then it turned out to be a leap year and I had another day’s reprieve. Pass the potatoes - and the rice – please. (Yeah, yeah, I'd like to meet a Filipino who doesn't eat nilagang baka with potatoes and rice.)
Before I passed out on the dentist’s chair, I heard my orthodontist exclaim, “Ay, putul na naman!” (“Ay, it’s cut again!”) – referring to my wires. This is probably why she built a fortified elastic fence inside my mouth. THOU SHALL STOP EATING AND LET ME GET MY WORK DONE.
(She asked for a three-month extension on the “final stretch”. The price I have to pay for my love of chicharon.)
Fine. March is finally here and I have vowed to take on Paleo as a lifestyle choice. Sort of. Well, I’ve decided to retain the same clauses just so that I don’t feel too fenced in but I will try to stick to the letter of the law as much as possible.
Of course, I haven’t felt my first hunger pangs of the day and, given the amount of sugar I’ve consumed in the last weeks, I am dreading the inevitable onset of sugar cravings and withdrawals.
I will be strong. I will be strong. I will be strong.
I’ve also eaten all the peanut butter and ice cream that I had squirreled away so I have no choice but to be strong.
Let the Hunger Games begin.
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