Diet notes of the week…in other news, if I don’t find something to write soon, it may not matter.

Am really getting into these baked Lay’s chips, although the cheddar-and-sour-cream goodness wears off a smitch too fast without the oil to stick to. This is the first thing you realise, when you start becoming fat-conscious: it is what puts the flavour in things. The loss of creaminess and richness I can live without (‘cepting ice cream), but the quest for taste, in a diet that already didn’t include much in the way of fruits or veg, raises the hunt for low-calorie gratification to an art form.

(Look, yes, I know. The reason I don’t eat fruits & veg – other than juices, corn and potatoes – is that the texture makes me quite literally retch. At various points in my lifetime friends and family have cajoled, teased, guilted or humiliated me into trying, say, a strawberry; the results have not been pretty.)

Pacifying small indulgence of the week: Vachon triple-choco cakes. Chocolate snack cake topped with a loop of chocolate frosting, within which is chocolate-fudge syrup. I have had them in the cupboard for 24 hours now, and I have only eaten one. Victory is mine!

Meanwhile…yeah, the writing thing. Am still waiting on feedback re: my PopMatters column idea, as noted a very simple concept involving my one proven audience-gathering skill: the ability to say snarky and/or clever things about pop-culture. The more I think about it, the more I like it; inclusive yet uncomplicated, fun to write and certainly to research, so motivation to keep a deadline would be a breeze. Maybe too uncomplicated. We’ll see. I am feeling better on that score, after a week’s reading what passes for a similarly-themed humour column in the MetroNews.

The fiction experiment, or lack thereof, is what’s really bugging. Same old same old: the historical family saga is bogged down in my total lack of confidence in re: writing period accuracy, the sci-fi thing is too cliched and the ‘write what you know’ idea is at a dead stop thanks to my being a pastel-cover person with an absolute horror of pastel-covered fiction.

Result: one ridiculously frustrated Shoe. I should just start writing something, I know. Given a choice between that and gorging on choco-cakies, maybe I will.


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