The Military Diet ... AKA: Trying to Survive on the Portions of An Undersized Mouse

The military diet.

If you haven’t heard of it, consider yourself blessed. If you have, you know it’s a 3-day plan designed to boost your metabolism and burn fat quickly. What they don’t tell you is why they call it the military diet.

For me, the name makes total sense: Every single moment of the day, I wanted to shoot someone because I was that desperately hangry. (I’ve never used the word “hangry” until this moment. The significance must be noted here.) I felt like I was stranded in a desert, and every single normal person, laughing while munching on Cheetos, was my enemy – and I hated every single one of them. I honestly feel like I’m suffering from PTSD just remembering the unsatisfying feeling of finishing a boiled egg and a single piece of bread, then calling it “lunch.”

That’s not lunch, my friends. That’s a snack for a blind toddler with no taste buds.

On day one, I was eating my “meals,” and feeling pretty good about my willpower of steel. I packed my tiny little lunches and dreamed of what clothes I would buy with the new body that I would totally have in three days. Then 8pm hit.

To give you a little perspective on how I’m feeling at this point, just imagine yourself signing up for this diet. The “experts” (aka, the people laughing at me for living off of a slice of cheddar cheese and some carrots), hand you 5 saltine crackers – no more, no less – and send you off into a desert wasteland to your death. The only real difference between this scenario and my military diet experience was the air conditioning.

Day two started quite resentfully. I stared longingly at my Special K cereal as I walked out the door. “I love you,” I whispered to it. Insanity was beginning to set in.

Then I got to work, and I realized I hadn’t hid my snacks. The enemy saw my mistake and launched a full-scale attack: The almonds in my desk drawer. (You may be thinking: Those are good for you, Katelyn. What’s so wrong with eating one? THE DIET SAYS NO STRAYING FROM THE PATH, stop talking to me, voices!) Sorry for the yelling. This is just really difficult for me to talk about.

I made it through “lunch” (LOL) and onto dinner. That’s when I caved. Day two. I ate three turkey hot dog wieners instead of two. THE SHAME.

By day three, I’m pretty sure I hadn’t showered the whole time because I had no energy. Working out was just a dream of the past, fueled by plates of whole wheat pasta that I couldn’t have. All I could think of at work was making it to 5 o’clock because that was a suitable time to eat dinner – the biggest meal of the day – enough to feed a small child and possibly a dog.

I spread my dinner food out a little bit after experiencing the night attack a few days ago. Telling my  banana HALF (yes, I did mean half. Eating a whole banana would just be far too satisfying for this torturous diet) to wait until later was quite difficult. But I rationed my portions and survived without incident. Victory. At last.

You’re probably asking about the results of this inhumane torture. I lost six pounds over the course of those three terrible days. The only problem with the diet comes in the subsequent four days of binge-eating to cure the starvation that seems to permanently linger in your stomach. Supposing you miraculously manage to fork salad in your mouth on your “off” days, you could potentially lose even more weight and not gain a single ounce of it back.

But if you’re like me and need to reward yourself with almond boba tea, a red velvet cupcake, and french fries, (Ranked in order of importance. Naturally.) go ahead and give yourself a pound of guilt-free eating. I don’t know about you, but I’m happy losing five pounds instead of six if I get queso at the end of it.

I really wanted to finish this post with “Bon Appetite,” but who am I kidding? If you’re going to try this diet, you’re about to starve, and I would rather not taunt you.

Good luck.