So because Dalekins and I ate every possibly banana and Nutella pancake, drank every beer and creamy cocktail and snarfed down green curries and buffet breakfasts like little fat kids on cake while we were in Thailand. We decided to try this soup diet upon our return. You know. To ensure a quick unhealthy weight loss because there is now way too much junk in my trunk! I’m a hoarder that way… and am quite surprised how I don’t tip over. My bum looks like two puppies fighting in a pillowcase. Soooo… soup diet.
Yes. I may be a bit retarded.
That’s besides the point!
Anyhoo, so you have to eat an alarming amount of this soup made from green beans, tomatoes, celery (from the devils bum – they come out right after the olives) and so many onions that I am sure I have caused an African deficit. Do you realise how gassy onions make you! I’m not talking 2 or 3 here, I mean a whole hell of a lot! Nuff said. *Fweep*
Not to mention how crap it is cutting up all those onions (Yes Verimark, I do need a Twister, do feel free to send me one), although I must say, my inner Dramaqueen lurrrrrves it… I get to throw myself on the floor and sob with REAL tears when I don’t get my way in the kitchen. Dalekins still just kicks me in the ribs and tells to either get up or clean the floor while I’m down there.
So Gods… day 4. We’re allowed to eat as many bananas and low fat milk as we like plus shitloads of soup (yes, I did vomit in my mouth there a little). Thank God because if I have to eat another carrot I may just shit me pants! I can see Tokyo from here already!
… could be worse though. We could be on one of those arb diets where you have to drink the pancreatic juices of a lesser-spotted yak.
Although… I haven’t checked what I’m allowed to eat tomorrow!
Don’t quite know why we’re bothering though. Sunday is Dalekins and my 4-year anniversary! Yes I haven’t beaten him to death with a tube of toothpaste (sans lid) yet and he hasn’t smothered me in my sleep because I have called him a cretin for the last timmmmmmme! *glowy Dalekins eyes*
So anyway, we’re going to a fancy shmancy pants restaurant apparently. One where I can’t go in my trackie bottoms! Yay *claps hands* I am going to eat like a mofo!
Hmmm…. Bit of an arb post this…