So here it is: I’ve lost 3.5 pounds so far. It’s hard to tell what how that really feels; there’s not much that feels different. Except I’m glad not to have the 3.5 pounds.

You know those ads on TV that show what five pounds of fat looks like? Where it’s essentially lard stuffed in a tall test tube-type affair? When I try to visualize it that way, getting rid of it feels better. Still, when I think of the fact that I’ve got about 60 pounds to go, it seems insurmountable.

I started off thinking I was going to stick to the South Beach Diet Plan. Until I perused the recipes, which are laden with SmartBeat spread and sugar substitutes, followed by a regular dose of sugar-free Jello. So I decided to do my very own I Don’t Go to the Beach diet, which eliminates pasta, potatoes, sugar and anything else that seems like it might have carbohydrates. I even cut out wine, which has been hardest of all.

The truth is that if you cut all that stuff out, really what you’re left with is protein and vegetables. And a complete dullard could lose weight on that plan. How much lettuce and broccoli can you stuff down your gullet before you really want a potato? I’m going to find out soon.

Is it any surprise that even after a week, I’m becoming tired of my plan? Any thoughts on how to spice it up would be good. Tonight’s menu promises chicken and vegetables. Oh boy.