This is my final General Motors diet post. Am I writing it a week after I finished the diet? Yes, yes I am. Because, you see, I believe the proof is in the pudding. Simply writing the DAY after I finished the diet would be no good; time needed to elapse in order to feel the full effect.
Also, I drove to New Mexico. Also, I am lazy.
But like I said, the proof is in the pudding. What we want to know is how this diet affected me. It’s like that dream I had last night about the blue Jello in my refrigerator. You can leave it in there forever, but it’s just gonna be liquid until you open the Ziploc baggy and let the air of day in.
In a now-solid Jello state, I can tell you this: I lost literally no weight. Like, MAYBE a pound or a half of a pound, but I’m chalking that up to margin of error with my scale.
My good friend Andrew was so motivated after reading my posts that he himself started the diet, and guess what? By banana day? HE HAD LOST NINE POUNDS. So I’m going to go ahead and make this a “me” thing.
It’s true. The only thing this nightmare week has taught me is that I am impervious to crash diets.
It doesn’t come as much of a surprise. I come from a family where nearly everybody — and I mean EVERYBODY, brothers, dad, mom, cousins, uncles — is an athlete. Not only that, but they’ve like, made it a part of their lives. Like, they still do sports as adults. (?!?!?) My first thought when participating in a sport is, “God I hope this ends soon.” My biggest athletic success was as my high school’s mascot. Growing up, while everybody else was out playing in my pool, I was reading “The Babysitter’s Club” and scoffing at them.”THE LITERARY WORLD WAITS FOR NO ONE,” I said. Now I make less money than all of them, including my brother who didn’t finish college. It’s fine.
BUT ALAS, I still got their genetic makeup, and now I know it for sure. My body responds only — and I mean ONLY — to intense, hour-long cardio workouts, weight training, salads and protein shakes. Having never been a truly “skinny” person, I can’t just “eat less” for a week and expect my body to go back to “normal.” I have to beat myself with the raw end of a treadmill.
Still, let’s not forget. The week was an experience. Not only did I learn that my body hates me, but I also learned that I can successfully put myself through something unpleasant in order to achieve some positive result (whether or not that happens is a different story, clearly). But the point is I can do it. The week was hard, it was seemingly endless and it yielded little hope. But I still got through it.
So now I know that about myself. Whether it’s a week or a month or two years, I can get through something trying. I am Army Strong. I can Live Strong. I can walk on the moon.
The second part of that lesson is this: while I may be able to complete a task or reach a time goal, the thing I’m doing may not be right for me. The end of the week or month or two years may yield me no results, other than the lesson I learned on Day 1: “Eh, this probably ain’t gonna work.” But I’m not quite ready to open that Jello bag yet.