I’ve been debating whether or not I should tell you people that I’m trying Seattle Sutton’s Half-Assed Eating Kind Of Thing this week. As a once (arguably) and (maybe) future and currently (ha) very occasionally weight-loss journaller person I feel that buying into a prefab-meal program is a slightly dubious undertaking, because I can’t shake this idea that I’m supposed to lovingly prepare my own bitsy meals, and take charge of my life, and become wiser in ways of skinny food by being intimately involved with the whole process.
(You people all know who Seattle Sutton is, right? Because I don’t want to link to her. Then again, if you don’t know who Seattle Sutton is, you might think, just from a name like “Seattle Sutton,” that she’s a porn star. However, she is not.)
But I’m trying to finish up the last gasps of work on the book, and I’d rather not 1.) fall back into the kind of feral eating habits that I developed while writing the first draft this summer or 2.) cook. And I don’t know about you, but sometimes I think fondly about airline food and wish that I could have it at home.
I picked up the stuff last night. It helps to start with very low expectations. They did not decline with last night’s Chicken Alfredo dinner, although Seattle neglected to tell me that those little plastic sauce cups do not microwave well at all.
This morning at breakfast Seattle let me have a muffin that was pretty okay. She tried to make me eat a very hard nectarine, too, but I refused. I got a riper one at the farmer’s market and ate it at work, so there.
Lunch was strange: “Chilled potato, turkey fillet, and fresh veggies.” It consists mostly of a cooked potato that you’re supposed to eat cold, with dip. And then the “turkey fillet” is a round, dense puck of reconstituted turkey. I believe there is a certain genius to this meal, because there really is no fucking way to delude yourself that your lunch is anything but a cold potato and a turkey cookie. And once you come to accept that, you’re pretty much ready for anything.