Somehow, I envisioned a state of privation in which mass would convert magically to energy. Without pasta, muffins, garlic bread, it would be a challenge to make sure all my clothing continued to fit, right?
The only thing I asked was not to get grief over the first five pounds. Those pounds were to be “free,” no questions asked. After that, I’d worry about weight maintenance.
You can probably guess: It hasn’t turned out that way. Not only is every blessed pound still here, but some of their friends have come along for the party.
Folks who are being kind reassure me that my body must be in some kind of transition. “You’re still getting used to it,” they tell me. I’m dubious on that count, but do wonder if I am digesting my food more thoroughly and extracting more nutrients, in a way that budesonide alone never brought about.
More than anything, I’m pretty sure those pounds have to do with all of the chocolate I’ve been scarfing and the fruit juice I’m guzzling.
Early on, I decided to allow myself any old food that I felt like, just so long as it was permitted from an allergy-elimination standpoint. It really has been hard to find good snacks, so I’ve allowed myself to reach for bad ones, albeit bad ones that make me feel good in a temporarily soothing kind of way.
There’s no way I can get rid of all that. Some days, chocolate is the one thing that keeps me going. But from now on, I’m introducing a dash of moderation along with all the deprivation.
I’d still like to show up for my scope next month and be able to say: “Remember, the first five pounds were free.”