Hell YES, I’ll Take Fries With That

I took the last of the Prednisone last night.

Thank gawd.

I was mostly worried it was going to make me, er, persnickety, but not at all.  What it did do is make me absolutely ravenous.  All I’ve wanted to do for the last week or so is eat.

And eat.

AND EAT.

Not a good thing when you’re paying good money for Weight Watchers online to lose weight.  In fact, I’ve been beating myself up for the last week and half because I seem to be absolutely incapable of sticking to plan.  I’ve switched from the Flex Plan to the Core Plan and back again.  I’ve tried to keep myself busy with a myriad of projects, all of which are in various stages of completion.  Nothing has helped.  Most of my “emergency supplies” at work – fat free yogurt, sugar free jello, instant oatmeal, light string cheese, skim milk – are gone, and we won’t even go into the devastation I’ve wreaked here at the house.

That loaf of pecan raisin bread I made yesterday?  Almost half gone.  The huge bag of cheese popcorn I made for the Young One’s lunches Tuesday night?  Just a memory…along with the big bag of cheddar Chex Mix that was meant for his lunches, which is why I had to make the popcorn.  We won’t even go into the three nearly empty boxes of WW 1 Point snack cakes sitting on the counter. I sat down to lunch yesterday with a Smart Ones frozen entree, a hefty salad and a bowl of 0 Point soup in front of me.  Thirty seconds later my stomach was saying, “That was an interesting little tidbit.  What else do you have laying around?”

I shudder to think what I’d have ingested in the last 7 – 10 days if I hadn’t had all this, well, healthy shit lying around.

Fortunately, a little frantic research told me all I needed to know.  Excessive hunger is a well-documented side effect of Prednisone.  And while wandering around the internet, I found this very apt analogy on a blog named Chronic Town, written by a woman suffering from sarcoidosis:

Experiencing prednisone hunger feels like you’re throwing marshmallows at Godzilla. “You call this a meal?” Godzilla bellows. “Forget the fluffy treats. Get me a small city, and I’ll be sated.” So you feed your inner Godzilla Dayton, Ohio, but he consumes it (and its suburbs) in a matter of moments, and then just demands Tokyo or Mexico City. There’s no satisfying Godzilla, especially when he’s on corticosteroids.

Just ducky.  Especially when it appears Godzilla has been joined by Rodan AND Ghidorah and they are bent on a trifecta of world destruction.

And on that note, there are all the ingredients for a barbecue beef sandwich in the kitchen with my name on it.

Hopefully this will all wear off soon now that I’m off the drug, or I fear my wardrobe will go from women’s sized capris to circus tents in very short order.