Day 17: Apologies To The South

The thermometer's been pushing into triple digits here for the past few days, and a kind of lethargy has set over me. It's what I imagine living in the South would be like, without the whole attracted-to-my-sister, evolution-is-heresy thing. I'm reminded of a cartoon I don't remember having ever seen, but I'm sure exists somewhere: Two wretched souls are slaving away in the fires of Hell. One turns to the other and says, "Yes, but it's a dry heat."

Every morning now I wake up with this odiously noxious breath. Since I've stopped injecting sugar and lard into my system every day, a kind of detoxification seems to be taking place with my body. First thing I do every morning -- my apologies to the squeamish -- is scrape about a teaspoonful of this disgusting, mucus-like substance from my tongue. I suppose it says a lot about my inherently lazy nature that I use this same spoon to eat my breakfast.

Speaking of which, that first meal of the day has been the hardest for me to get right. For most of my life I've had a big bowl (3 cups) of raisin bran with a banana and a cup of milk for breakfast. One of the things I'm trying to do now, though, is raise the protein content of my diet while significantly reducing my starches. Three cups of cereal is six units of starch. In that I'm only allowed eight to nine units a day, that leaves precious little room for bread, pasta, rice, mayonnaise, salad dressing, sugar, etc., etc. the rest of the day.

Notice, by the way, that I said "I'm only allowed eight to nine units." This regimen is dictated from on high by my nutritionist. No way I could have come up with this on my own, let alone had the discipline to follow it. So I guess -- as far as my mouth is concerned -- I do live in the South.