It has been nine days. Nine long, barren days in the wasteland. I am in full blown carbohydrate withdrawal, including moodiness and anxiety. No, wait. I can’t blame that on the diet. But, I am dreaming of Boston Cream donuts, something I never eat but feel like I cannot live without when I “cut the carbs, cut the fun”. All of this begs two questions: Why am I disclosing this to the world? And why the hell am I doing this in the first place because donuts are damn delicious?
I disclose my own personal detox, denial, diet and donut issues because going public keeps me accountable. It’s like a weight watchers weigh-in with everyone I have ever met. (Suddenly these entries are losing their appeal for me…) And I am dieting because of 17 inches times 20+ hours. I am no math wizard, but I know that twenty hours in a 17 inch coach airline seat is torture for anyone and a living hell if you are any larger than that guy on Game of Thrones. (And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have to fly coach anymore.) Yes, the Das Guptas are going to India in December and this diet has a definite 17 inch deadline. A good bout of Delhi Belly caused by brushing my teeth with tap water will make for an even more comfortable seat on the return flights, I am sure. In the meantime, bear with me. (Bear claws are so good, too, right?) The journey has really just begun. I won’t bore you with pounds lost, but rather inches of extra seatbelt acquired. Namaste, bitches.