Breakfast: lean protein. Lunch: lean protein. Want a snack? Sure, here's some lean protein. I grilled the prescribed chicken breast for dinner last night and almost gagged when I tried to eat it. I tossed the meat with lettuce and mixed with roasted eggplant to disguise its lean protein nature, but finally had to throw it out. The South Beach Diet is like Bread and Jam for Frances, but with chicken breasts and reduced-fat cheese. I never feel hungry, but am always slightly queasy.
What I really miss is fruit. Bing cherries with burgundy flesh, crisp and super-cold from the refrigerator. Or a peach. Have not had a peach yet this year. Or some blueberries. Or a Santa Rosa plum. Even a banana.
When I say I find this interesting, I'm not kidding. I think it's fascinating to see what happens when you radically change your diet, if only for a week. You think about everything differently.
In other news, there is no other news. Just lonely toil and dismal diet. Maybe today I'll go see Bruno, read Mark Sanford's love letters, and inspect the bee hives. Then I'll have something to say.