Day 1, Phase 1:I close my eyes and see chocolate cake.

First, we are not calling this a diet. Diet is a very dirty word. Let's say we've adopted a new meal plan.

Because Jane and I don't believe in diets. Diets are for other people. Not us.

When I think of the word diet I think of people who don't need to lose weight believing they need to lose weight.

I am not one of these people.

These people use scientifically unsound methods. They deprive themselves, starve themselves. Have a poor body image. Obsess about medical reports on the news. Eat fake food. For vanity.

You see my problem. You see this idealogical roadblock. Here I am, 30-years-old and overweight. Sedentary. Still feeling momentary twinges from the ruptured ovarian cyst I had two months ago. Wanting very much to get pregnant within the year. And now I have a job in the health care industry, where I see daily the debilitating effects of obesity.

But I'm a snob. I consider myself too intelligent to fall for this nonsense. Yet I am embarking on what may be considered a fad diet. But...my doctor recommended it, so it must be okay.

Right?

There was much preparation to get to this point. We read the book (okay, Jane read the book). We've sketched out a menu. There is a plan.

Let me take this time to point out that Jane does not have to do this. She of all people does not need to lose weight. Loving wife that she is, Jane is joining me in an act of solidarity. And she is putting up with alot of crap. Chicken breast for instance. The woman absolutely hates chicken breast. And there is alot of chicken breast in this diet -- er, meal plan. She really loves me.

So the report on Day 1 begins with a very meager breakfast of a 2 oz serving of vegetable quiche and my normal cup of coffee (containing a scant amount of lactose-free milk and "raw" sugar -- there is just NO way I CANNOT be caffeinated in such a fashion). That lasted me approximately 20 minutes. So I had a 1 oz piece of cheese. Another 20 minutes. That was it. I was sunk until mid-morning, when I could have my 15 almonds.

My body rejected me. Mostly by holding my brain hostage. I clicked between Excel worksheets, lost. What was I doing again? Ah, yes, compiling very important data for a very important report that is needed by tomorrow. I ached for lunch. Chef's salad. Blessed protein! When the time came, I INHALED this salad like I've never had salad before. Those almonds did squat to tide me over! This salad, it was the king of salads. The only salad. The one true salad. The salad to end all salads.

The salad lasted me about an hour. But I held out until 2 o'clock for my snack of hummos and celery. Jane made the hummos and it was good. It brought joy to all the land. The fog began to lift, and by the time I left work I didn't feel the constant need for a fainting couch.

For dinner? You guessed it, chicken breast. And mashed cauliflower. Oh the excitement was just overwhelming. Jane already warned the kids that I was going to to be veeeery bitchy tonight, because not only was I feeling strung out for lack of calories, I got my period to boot. Which just invited them to be more obnoxious. Or maybe it was me. I sat at the dinner table feeling like I was nursing an ecstacy hangover -- wrecked, but somehow clearer than before. Though my body was crying out for calories, I have to admit there's been a bit of a pleasant, yet unsettling buzz going on. I just wanted everyone to SHUT THE FUCK UP. Thank you.

And by the way, I swear that today I peed ten times as much as before. Maybe I was drinking more water to fill the oral void, I don't know. Food for thought.

Cripes. Someone give me potato chip.

Nevermind -- then I'd have to pay Jane ten bucks.