Day 3 - The Cabbage Soup Diet

Bruno

“I hate this diet.”

I so desperately wanted to be optimistic about today. Our choices have effectively doubled as we are allowed to combine the items from the previous two days. Let’s think. Spinach and pear bisque? Apple and lettuce terrine? No, two negatives do not make a positive here. They merely double the misery.

I have barely left my bed today, which can’t be a good thing. The kitchen is not the comforting place it used to be. I feel as though I am committing a series of small crimes every time I walk in there. Steaming kale, slicing a pear, stemming some broccoli, heating small bowls of cabbage soup… I feel every other item on the shelves staring at me in disgust. You know you’re not right if you feel judged by half a packet of tempura batter and a jar of pesto.

Anyone with a fond feeling towards food must surely agree that half the joy is in the cooking. I like preparing my meals; it’s the most methodical component of my life. That has disappeared. You make a giant pot of soup at the beginning, and then supplement its diminishing appeal with ingredients that really don’t need your culinary flourishes. I can imagine watercress on a photo shoot for a cookbook: “Oh, no make-up for me please. I’m lucky, I was born this way. Just wash me gently and I’ll take my place.” I want to chop, and marinade, and stir. Not just peel off another leaf straight into my mouth. All enjoyment has been taken out of eating.

I take my floundering vitality out for an evening. Hosted by the sweetest couple imaginable, we eat salad leaves and cocktail beetroots. I am constantly apologising for being such a drip. “No, really, it’s fine! We usually eat salad if we’re not out for the evening. Honestly…” I want to believe them, but guests are an excuse to get drunk on a weeknight, not crack open a couple of bags of salad.

Before weakly passing out in bed (again), I review tomorrow’s itinerary. Bananas and skimmed milk. Not exactly the Bonnie and Clyde of the food world, are they? Rigamoon assures me that we can make milkshakes. I wonder how I might be able to consume that with a knife and fork.

Rigamoon

This is a mixture of days 1 and 2, with NO baked potato, a real shame.  The headache has gone though which is great news. 

Lunchtime, steamed kale and brocolli on a bed of spinach and watercress.  I’m an extremely slow eater and an obsessive chewer, most of lunch was taken up by my staring through the prongs of my fork (you know when you hold it really close to your eyes so it feels like you’re in prison?) stewing over my  internal debate as to whether I was using more calories chewing my food to liquid or if I would burn more with the effort my stomach would have to go to in digesting bigger lumps of food.  If anyone has the answer to this question, please do let me know.  This diet is driving me to severe boredom.  I don’t ever want to see cabbage soup again and we’ve got to make the second batch in the morning, urgh.

I headed to a meeting straight after lunch paranoid that on every word there was the scent of a thousand brocolli heads and embarrassed by the gurgling in my stomach (please don’t fart, please don’t fart, I did one yesterday, 3 words, oh.  my.  gosh.).  Actually, whilst we’re on the subject of farting, it’s probably the worst thing about this diet and I know it’s about to get worse.  If you’re doing this in the office, colleagues beware!

I retire tonight with a feeling of dread about tomorrow, I am absolutely starving and I’m not enjoying this one bit.  We have to continue to eat this wretched soup daily, bring on Friday and the meat!