Week #13 of My Liquid Diet: Approaching a Transition

Plus an intriguing encounter with Greg.

Restrainting by numbers:

• Beginning weight (July 14): 230 lbs.

• Weight at start of Week #2: 222

• Weight at start of Week #3: 218.4

• Weight at start of Week #4: 215.3

• Weight at start of Week #5: 215.1

• Weight at start of Week #6: 211.2

• Weight at start of Week #7: 208.1

• Weight at start of Week #8: 204.3

• Weight at Start of Week #9: 201.9

• Weight at Start of Week #10: 199

• Weight at Start of Week #11: 196.8

• Weight at Start of Week #12: 194.4

• Weight at Start of Week #13: 193.5

• Weight at Start of Week #14 (current week): 190.2

Total weight loss so far: 39.8 lbs.

Seventeen weeks to go.

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Greg begins his curious approach. (Photos by Sara.)

The other day, as Sara and I peered out into the Albany Mudflats, an avian acquaintance of ours seemed to be staring right back at us. I’m not absolutely sure, but I think that this is was Greg, the same Great Egret (in birders’ shorthand: “GREG”) we spotted on a previous expedition. On that first occasion, he seemed to be giving a cautious side-eye to the human couple — one with binoculars, one with a camera — standing by the fence that separated land from water. This time, however, he surprised us by seeming to stride, with his impossibly long legs, straight towards us. And his head, atop an even impossibly longer neck, was tilted to the side, as if to ask, “Are you guys okay?”

Well, Greg, it’s complicated. I see that you just snapped up a tasty fish, and I have to admit I’m a bit jealous. I’m on a liquid diet, you see. But I’m preparing to transition back to eating real food again, starting in three weeks. It’ll be gradual: each week or two, one of my six “meal replacements” will be replaced by an actual meal. A small-ish one. Exactly 250 calories, as opposed to the meager 160 I’ve been ingesting every two to three hours. One hundred fifty of protein, and 50 each of non-starchy vegetables and fat. Greg, you’ll like this: I’m thinking of starting with fish as my protein. Maybe tuna. Though I almost certainly won’t catch it myself, like you. You’re a Great Egret; I’m just trying to be a Fairly Good Human.

Coming closer.

Greg, we’re worried about you. You and all the others. I’ve just been birding for a little over a year now, but there are way fewer shorebirds to be seen along our usual biking-and-birding path, from the Berkeley Marina up north to the Richmond Marina, than a year ago. Last year, I’d sometimes sit on a bench along Meeker Slough and just kind of soak in the sheer plenitude of pelicans — both Brown Pelicans and American White Pelicans — swooping overhead and splashing around in the water in front of me. Being so close to this raucous carnival of huge, dinosaur-like animals made me feel giddy — and relieved: They didn’t seem to mind that, during my Manhattan upbringing, most of the nature scenes I encountered involved standing with my dad before dioramas at the American Museum of Natural History. This year the local populations of pelicans — as well as of many other species we’ve observed — have been so much sparser.

Transitioning onto terra firma.

When Greg finally emerged from the water onto a bit of land, for a moment I harbored a crazy hope that he might continue all the way up to the separating fence and greet us (he didn’t). Can you pet a Great Egret? Probably not. Could lead to a Great Regret.