EATING IS SUCH A CHORE

The real shocker these past 10 days is how horrid bread is to eat.  Not sure if it due to massive sense of metallic in mouth or just how horrid it has become to eat and swallow the stuff.  Mind, this coming from a chap who never met a loaf of bread with melting butter on he did not fall in love with.

How I miss bread.  Me memories of bread are very strong, going back to Paris ans San Francisco.

The old geezer adores pasta.  When this was served up, it did not go over well.  Forget about the sauce, it just lay on the plate and haunted me.  Took three small, and I mean small, tastes and gave up.

Normally, 'toad in the hole' is one of me favourites.  Again, the attempt to eat eggs was very hard to do.  Not only were the not appealing but did not like the mixture in mouth.  Set me tummy on edge it did.  I am quite fond of 'baked beans over toast' and when tried, was able to get down but a slice before me tummy said ENOUGH...

House mates dined on chicken the other night.  Tried to eat chicken a few days ago and it came off as very dry.  Mind, I did manage to put a small piece between some bread and chew it down.

One thing is sure, me house mates are not put off by my not being hungry.  Last night they finished off a chicken between the two of them, with corn on the cob and large Ceasar Salad.

One of me house mates loves sweets.  Blessed him with a lovely pie, to thank for helping me during the days following the operation.  With the taste of sweet being gone, the very idea of tucking into is now revolting.  This coming from a chap who never met 'fat' he did not like.

Truth be told, if you take away the taste of food, it all seems like so much poo.  There is no desire to add condiments to anything fixed, as it does not matter, not going to improve taste.

Along with the complete turn off to food, is the effort required to eat the bloody stuff.  My craving is gone, and I mean gone.  There are times that am quite ill at the thought of eating.

Can you imagine?  The old geezer could not pass the ice box without hearing "I am calling, YOUUUUUUUU".  The doors of cupboards would rattle and beg me to open and pull out all sort of things to stuff into me cake hole.

Having dieted in the past, know full well, how hard it can be.  The mind and the body play tricks on to get you to break down and throw in the towel.  The telly features all of the wondrous delights to eat and before long the door to the ice box is torn off and the orgy of eating starts.

This time round, there is no effort required to ignore food.  There has been a complete shut down of temptation.  I do not feel hungry.  I do not crave anything.  Point of fact, I feel surprising good.  I have energy, no headaches from lack of food, or a burning in the tummy to fill it up.

I am drinking massive amounts of water, and pissing up a storm.  My daily visit to the loo has now become a very light chore.

Who ever thought that the old geezer would have to force self to eat.  I manage to try and get some of the vital 4 things needed for health.  With the huge reservoir of fat stored, not bloody likely to die from lack of food anytime soon.  And as long as I try to eat something, keeping in mind the 4 vital groups, do not feel any great harm is being done.  Am quite sure it will be some time before I start to look like a starving POW.

Do I know how long this will last?  No clue.  After 10 days, the sense of taste is gone and more than like for good.  Not a thing one would want but it has come with a silver lining.  There is a very strong possibility that what seemed impossible is going to happen.  MOI is going to be greatly reduced in size...