(Warning! Quasi-surgery blog ahead!)

Orange Crapius

I've been in a bit of a crisis lately. It's not one of those things that just popped up and crisised me out, it's actually been going on about 3 months. And while I'm not on the edge of death, or nervous breakdown, it's pretty much slowly driving me insane. Just like my new neighbors.

In the past 3 months, I've lost a total of four pounds.

This isn't good, especially for a person who has a doctor who seems to think she should still be losing weight faster than Ben Johnson ran the 100 meters on steroids. And while I don't even agree with that, the fact that I seem to be hopelessly stalled is bugging the absolute shit out of me.

During those three months I've had meetings with the above-mentioned doctor, a nutritionist, and a support group of surgery patients. I've gotten suggestions, things I need to cut, things I need to add, and things I need to switch. And for the most part, I've followed those suggestions. With no results.

Then last week, I got a phone call at work that was a welcome occurrence. A call from my surgery buddy TT, who knows way more about these things than any doctor, I'm convinced, and who's very nice and entertaining, but not above kicking my ass if needed. I told her my dilemma, she listened for a while, and then she got out her boots. The pointy ones.

She told me one thing I already knew, and one thing I didn't. I wasn't eating enough, and wasn't getting in nearly enough protein, that I knew. But I figured once my body realized that was all it was getting, it would give up its hoarding of all these calories and things would finally move. No, TT said. TT said as long as I'm starving myself my body will never give it up.

She gave me a suggestion in the form of a guarantee. If I'd flush my body with enough, if not more, of the protein it needs, it would finally realize I wasn't starving it and I was going to see results that would astound me. Give it a week, TT said. After one week if I didn't see a change in the scales, I could personally come to her house with my pointy boots and give her ass a little kicking.

Now, TT knows I love her dearly, so I can say this, but this prospect excited me beyond belief. I mean, I was either going to lose some weight or get to kick her ass. If that's not a win/win situation, I don't know what is.

And so last week I went back to the basics. The old protein drinks I used to drink faithfully in my early days.

Now, I'll try not to bore you too much with my quest for protein. I've blogged about it before, so you don't need more whining from me, but I really don't think it's too much to ask in this life for a nice girl like me to find something loaded with protein that doesn't taste like Janitor In A Drum. Or worse, and believe me folks, I've tried some that are.

What I went back to was my old standby, Nectar. Nectar is a big whopping jug of powdered whey protein isolate. Yum, yum. It comes in several flavors, and while it's not the most vile thing one could put into one's mouth, I'm sure, it's not something I look forward to either.

I have three big whopping jugs of Nectar. One's called Fuzzy Navel (isn't that cute), one's called Roadside Lemonade (Roadkill might be more appropriate), and one's called Crystal Sky.

I normally drink Fuzzy Navel because it's the most palatable. The Lemonade is so incredibly sweet it makes you want to take to your bed and writhe, and to be honest, I'd yet to try the Crystal Sky because about a day after I ordered it, I read a messageboard online that contained upwards of 100 messages discussing how incredibly nasty it was.

So my orders from TT were 3 protein drinks a day. Damn, in my best days I only did two. She'd rather have me drinking four, but said three would be adequate, and if there's one thing I am, it's adequate. And last Thursday I began the whirlwind of protein that my life has become.

With the Fuzzy Navel, as I said, the taste is palatable. Sure, I'd rather taste a bag of Cheetos, but I can choke these down without gagging. The problem I have with FN is the consistency. You mix it with whatever liquid you may prefer, and I prefer various and sundry flavors of Crystal Light, but when the mixing is done you don't end up with a clear orange liquid. You end up with a liquid that's more translucent than transparent. In other words, it's not thick enough to be of a shake quality, but not watery enough to be like Kool-Aid.

I call it Orange Crapius. And I'm thinking of opening up a chain of fast-food protein bars in malls nationwide selling Orange Crapius and weiners that have been rotating under a big light all day.

But anyway. I've been drinking three Orange Crapiuses (Crapii?) a day for a week. I even packed my little kit up, along with my blue plastic drinking glass and straw, and took my protein parade on the road this weekend at Mr M's so I could comply with the regimen.

Trouble is, I'm starting to run a little low on Orange Crapius. So when it was time for protein drink #2 today, I girded my loins and went to the cabinet. And pulled out the big whopping jug of Crystal Sky.

I popped the top and saw not a light orange powder, but a grayish-green powder. It reminded me exactly of what a person's bones must look like if they're ground very well. I poured out the Crystal Light and got a big scoop of Crystal Sky, and prepared to stir. And stir I did.

Crystal Sky is blue. Well, how Caribbean. However, in my blue plastic drinking glass it didn't look like something I might be drinking on a beach in Jamaica. It looked like what my toilet bowl looks like when I pour a lot of Comet cleanser in it.

But hey, it was poured, so I added a shitload of ice and a straw and had at it.

And you know, it's not nearly as nasty as everyone on those messageboards said. Which is not to say that it's not nasty at all, because it certainly is. It has that protein aftertaste, but I just held onto the straw for all it was worth and sucked till I thought my brains were going to come out. And I finished it. And I may possibly be able to finish it on other occasions too. (Which is a good thing, because I still have protein drink #3 to go for today.)

I thought Crystal Sky might look more inviting if I put it in a drink glass. And from a distance, as you can see, it looks pretty spiffy. But guess what, it didn't change the taste. And up close, even in the martini glass, it still looks like something one should use to clean one's toilet with. And if I run out of Comet cleanser, I just might give it a try.

Oh, and by the way. A week? Not one pound lost. I'm going now to unearth my pointy boots.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* Boy, did I see something weird on TV last night. I was at Mr M's after band practice, having a coffee and watching "Law and Order." And listening to him make yet more fun of Sam Waterston. The show was about a man with a TV cooking show who was accused of murdering a woman. And when the non-Lennie guys came to arrest him he was filming an episode of his show. And his set - was Rachael Ray's kitchen on "30 Minute Meals!" It was the exact set, the same walls, the same tiles, even the same old-fashioned stove! It was her set! I just kept marveling at that, and Mr M seemed to think there was nothing whatsoever about it for marveling. But I'm still marveling, so there.