Week #5 of My Liquid Diet: Running on Empty

Taking the risk of finding new rewards.

My diet so far, by the 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 (current week): 211.2

Total weight loss so far: 18.8 lbs.

Twenty-four weeks to go.

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I’m having a difficult day on my diet. I miss the things that real food does. The delicious smells. The glorious, comforting decadence of eating (say) a gooey deep-dish pizza (with mushrooms! and sausage!). Satiety. The awareness of being loved — I mean, fed — I mean, loved.

I feel … empty. Like, I have enough fuel to do things — I just don’t have much of a drive to do any of them right now. I imagine that tomorrow will be better. Maybe even this evening will be better. (It’s late afternoon as I begin to write this.)

Perhaps I can turn things around while composing this post? That would be so cool!

There’s a wonderful little moment in that great movie Say Anything. Lloyd Dobler (played by John Cusack) is talking to his sister Constance (played by real-life sister Joan Cusack). She’s been depressed, and he wants her to cheer up.

He says, “Why can’t you be in a good mood? How hard is it to decide to be in a good mood and be in a good mood once in a while?"

Her sarcastic reply: “Gee, it’s easy.”

John and Joan Cusack in Say Anything.

Not that I’m depressed. I’m not. I’m just kind of … blah.

In the past, when I have been feeling really down, sometimes writing has reminded me that I exist. I remember a moment, decades ago, when I was sitting at a table at a neighborhood restaurant called Pazzazz! (I’m fairly sure that’s how it was spelled and punctuated). I was in the midst of a long, chronic depression. I saw a bus go by — and the bus seemed so real, so there, that I wrote a couple of sentences about it in this spiral notebook I’d brought with me. And then the act of writing that down made me begin to feel real. Just for a little while, but still.

I also recall the actual moment, months later, when that depression lifted. I’d just gotten off of work as a temp in San Francisco’s Financial District, and I was waiting for the train at the Montgomery Street BART station. The wall of that station — across the tracks from the platform where I was standing — had kind of a shiny, puckered texture; and suddenly I realized that this texture was beautiful! It was so beautiful! And then the train came, and I got on, and everyone seemed so happy! Smiles everywhere! And the feeling that had been absent for so long returned to me: Life is glorious! This brief, precious life that we have somehow lucked into.

When I got back to my little basement apartment in the Mission (where I’d spent much of the past months lying in bed and watching mostly terrible TV, including a scary amount of bowling tournaments), I put on my sweatpants and a T-shirt, grabbed my basketball, and headed out to the nearby schoolyard to shoot hoops for a bit. Later, I went to a really cool arthouse movie theater to see Blue Velvet. Not a super-cheerful movie, I realize! But so … beautiful! And alive! (Admittedly, there’s also quite a bit of death.) Before heading into the theater, I bought at concessions a big box of Raisinets and a humongous cup of coffee (with Half-and-Half and sugar! yes, to wash down the Raisinets!) — and I remember thinking: This is what not being depressed is for me: constantly rewarding myself, before, during, and after everything I do, even when the thing I’m doing is enjoyable in and of itself.

This scene in Blue Velvet was even better with Raisinets and coffee.

And so often, the reward has been food.

Now, in the temporary absence of food, what is my reward? The answer that comes to mind is: the thing itself. The experience — whatever it is — is its own reward.

(This is starting to sound suspiciously grown-up — yikes!)

You know, I’ll tell you something: I’m feeling kinda better than I did a few paragraphs ago! And I’ve almost made it to the time of my next meal-replacement thingie.

And I have been losing weight, and feeling way healthier. (I’m back to wearing my old jeans, with four fewer inches around the waist!)

I’ll get through these 30 weeks of liquid-dieting, and then I’ll continue to be hyper-careful about what I eat so I can stay at that lower, healthier weight.

I mean, how hard can it be, right?

Gee, it’s easy!