Apparently, I’m on a Diet!

Today I woke up and took two showers. I tried to wash the fat off, but it didn’t work. After that, I went for a run. Okay… I went for a walk. Okay! I went for a crawl.

Considering that the streets of Salou, Spain, are on an incline, it probably would have been more efficient just to roll downhill.

After fifteen minutes, I asked AI how many calories I had burned. It responded with approximately 80 calories, about 30 of which I would have burned anyway just by continuing to breathe.

Fucking hell! Fifty calories?

I can take a shit and lose more weight than that.

I worked hard for fifteen minutes to burn 50 additional calories, but in only twenty seconds I could eat two slices of bacon and put 200 calories straight back in. How is that fair?

It all actually started yesterday, while I was sitting at a restaurant in the centre of Salou. We ordered some appetisers and a couple of burgers. By the time the burgers arrived, I was already full. I could feel that there was simply nowhere left for the food to go.

Somehow, I still managed to eat part of the fries and most of the burger. What else was I supposed to do? Send it back and tell them I didn’t need it anymore? Do you remember that episode of Friends in which Monica was finally full? That was more or less how I felt.

This morning, I woke up shortly after five. It was far too hot in the room. I stepped into the shower and started wondering whether going for a walk might be a good idea. After the walk, I took another shower and began analysing what had just happened.

What had motivated me to leave the hotel at five in the morning and exercise?

Why did I do it today when I usually don’t?

And why are calories so incredibly difficult to burn once you have eaten them?

As a result, I adjusted my breakfast choices this morning. I had two omelettes with mushrooms, one slice of bread, a little cream cheese, one piece of ham and some grilled tomatoes. The tomatoes looked relatively miserable on my plate. No sausages. No bacon. And no second, third or fourth slice of bread.

While eating, I almost felt like crying into my plate. I was starving. It was already nine o’clock, and I had been awake since five. Normally, what I had on my plate would have been nothing more than the warm-up. It was the kind of food I would eat just to gather enough energy to sit down and start eating properly.

I was certain I was going to starve to death, but I accepted my fate. I thought that even if I eventually needed an ambulance, at least I would get the opportunity to visit a Spanish hospital and speak to some of my colleagues there.

Although I was convinced the meal would never be enough, towards the end I noticed something stupid. My hunger had disappeared.

The same feeling of complete fullness from the previous evening had returned. I was once again a fully stuffed fatty—except this time, I had eaten far less.

I realised that if I hadn’t been paying attention to those sensations, I probably would have continued eating long after I was full.

Perhaps that is exactly what I normally do.

Despite all my catastrophic predictions, I didn’t end up in hospital. Even more surprisingly, I didn’t need coffee to wake myself up that morning.

My wife, who is slim, actually ate more than I did. Yet by the time we reached our room, I was the one who felt ready to burst after those two omelettes. How could I feel so full after eating so few calories? And how had I never noticed this before?

We’ll see how the rest of the day goes. For now, in my usual humorous and self-deprecating way, I simply wanted to announce something:

Apparently, I’m on a diet!