I haven't eaten a carb in eleven days. Not one single grain of rice. No bread, no crackers, no NOTHIN'. My co-workers are starting to look like bagels.
It's the 17-Day Diet, and it's either the best or worst thing that's ever happened to me. Results unclear. The objectives for the diet were simple: Clear my body of toxins. Stop binge drinking. Lose 15 pounds. Attend open casting call for the Bachelor. Meet and fall in love with my future husband. It was all within my reach. It looked so easy the Sunday night before, stuffing my face with popcorn and planning my menus.
Eleven days in, it's not all bad. I've lost five pounds (or more. I know for a fact my scale is broken.) I'm cooking like a machine. I get drunk off two glasses of wine. There's no wine allowed on the 17-Day Diet, you say? Are the assholes who compel the drinking of wine allowed? Because if I had a slice of pizza for every idiot I've been out with since starting this diet, I'd have two slices of pizza.
Like the 17-Day Diet, the dates weren't all bad. On day two of the diet, I hung out with Aaron. I was feeling hot and skinny (and hungry) and Aaron was loving the confident, sexy (hungry) me. We spent a lovely night watching GIRLS and Veep on Aaron's couch while I cooly sipped my only (second) glass of wine. All was good in this burgeoning relationship. Until I texted Aaron the next day telling him I'd accidentally left my phone charger at his place, and he offered to SHIP IT TO MY APARTMENT. Seriously? You would rather overnight the package to Brooklyn than face the prospect of hanging out again. Dummy one.
On day four of the diet, I went out with Jason. Jason is the first guy I've been out with from Match.com, and I was thrilled with my success. This tall, liberal Jew who runs a charter school! And lives in Brooklyn. And drives a car. Yahtzee! I had trouble reading Jason throughout the date, but his effusive e-mail the next morning confirmed: he was into me. Turns out I'm fun when I'm hungry and tipsy.
I couldn't wait to see Jason last night for our second date. Day ten. I was sick of the diet, and sick of cutting myself off after two wines. I was 2.5 glasses of Pinot Grigio deep when we started our date, and 4.5+ glasses in when we finished. Maybe I wasn't as classy as day four. Or as peppy. Or as excited to wake up and eat fat-free cottage cheese for the third morning in a row. Whatever it was, Jason and I lost our love connection. I resented that he didn't hold my hand. He thought it was stupid that I like The Notebook. I thought it was stupid that he goes to bed at 9pm. I started thinking he looks like John C. Reilly. Dummy two.
Day eleven. Tonight I went to The Meatball Shop and ate a salad. For dessert I had peppermint tea. If I don't get picked for season 17 of the Bachelor...
