Well not this time! You see, at exactly three weeks into my current diet plan - the point when my metabolism finally catches on to the fact that I’m putting considerable effort into disposing my adipose, and slows to match the metabolic rate of a drunken tortoise, I’ll be having throat surgery. Now, if all of the horror stories I’ve read about this surgery are true, then I won’t be eating anything resembling normal food for more than a week. This will force my diet to stay on course and punch right through the plateau.
And for those of you worried that I might lose too much weight by taking such drastic measures, look - my fancy electronic bathroom scale shows that I have the fat reserves of a Kodiac bear in November, and with a little math, I figured out that if I stopped eating today, I could live off of nothing but water until May of 2009.
I figure by the time I feel like eating anything beyond popsicles or runny oatmeal, I’ll have evaded all attempts my metabolism has made at discouraging me. I plan on surfacing on the other side of the dreaded diet plateau, having avoided disappointment, personal doubt, and any temptation to don a bib, and start chucking random freezer items into the Fry Daddy. Stay tuned. . .