Here we go... Hopefully the next four weeks will lead to some positive physical changes, which will in turn have some kind of psychological halo effect. I'm not depressed or anything, but spending a whole year (give or take a few weeks) with this kind of frustration nagging away in the back of my head has to have been taking its toll whether I was aware of it or not.
The bathroom scale read a depressingly and infuriatingly familiar 206.4 this morning. That's a good 25 pounds porkier than where I want to be. If the nutritionist is right, it'll take a few days for my body to adjust to the absence of allergens in my system and then the inflammation will start to go down. At that point science will start to happen within my innards. My body should decide to let go of a bunch of water its been hanging onto, and my metabolism should change for the better. Quite how all this will manifest itself is a mystery. There's an outside chance I'll spend the next week as a big fat sweaty man with a bladder control issue and narcolepsy. That sounds like fun.
Mrs. D has been wonderfully supportive already; helping me with research and talking to friends that have had similar issues in the past (the gluten thing seems to be quite pervasive, thanks to processed foods stuffing more of it into what we ingest than is healthy). She's also elected to try and join me, for the most part. That said, her attempt at a coconut milk latte this morning was apparently disastrous. I couldn't bring myself to try it, honestly, as it looked a little strange and smelled like that overly flavored nonsense that Starbucks is currently peddling.
Breakfast was painless; egg whites, some veggies, and avocado washed down with black coffee, and then lunch was similarly pleasant, as I brought some leftover quinoa with tuna to work, and followed it with a coconut yogurt thing. If there's one thing that I need to be super-vigilant about, it's making food at home and then storing it so I can bring it to work. Given the food options near the office, I'm pretty much screwed unless I want to eat nothing but salad every day. Honestly, my biggest problem might be snacks. The nutritionist is still adamant that I need to be eating six times a day, and I totally forgot to pack anything to nibble on between meals today. Honestly, I was at a bit of a loss when I stared into the cupboard this morning. Fruit, perhaps? Maybe some of those nut crisp things? Tomorrow I'll be better about it.