Basically, I’m hungry and fatigued. And I want to eat bread.
I wake up and I eat matzoh.
Then I go about my daily day (see?! I can’t even think of a better way to say this!) and find something I can eat for lunch (surprisingly difficult even in lower manhattan).
Then I’m cranky at people until dinner, at which point I am tired of trying to think of what to eat and end up having a fudgesicle.
Actually, I think I might be losing weight, but only because eating has become so calculated and joyless that it’s not even worth it.
I mean, this is not a big deal. I can’t have bread. To channel my grandmother for a moment, this should be the worst thing that happens to me.
But I have to admit, it’s really affecting my mood. I just feel empty all the time. I mean, not in an emo way. In a I-would-like-some-bread-in-my-tummy kind of way.
Today on the train I had an elaborate fantasy about a garlic knot.
I’m glad this thing is almost over.
Oh yeah, thanks for letting us escape from Egypt and whatnot, had gad ya.
The Passover Diet: Days 4 & 5
