You know, it’s an odd thing.
I think someone mentioned this back when I first blogged about Effexor, and if so, they were right–I have found my appetite has undergone a peculiar shift since I’ve been on meds.
Namely, I no longer seem to like pasta very much.
This is kind of astonishing, because pasta has long been one of my basic dietary staples. I live on the stuff. It’s one of the few things I know how to cook, I eat a lot of pasta salad…and now I might as well be chowing down on newspaper. I stare into a bowl of noodles, take a few bites, and shove it away. (I have done this a half dozen times, because eating pasta is just plain habit by now, and I default to it.)
Noodles seem to be the primary culprit, but ravioli isn’t doin’ much for me either. I’m not sure if I still like mac & cheese or not. Rice is still fine. I’m hoping that another food group will rise to fill the gap, but I’ll have to experiment to see if I suddenly like something I’ve been avoiding.
This has had another side effect. Having cut out my primary source of carbs, purely accidentally, combined with the much smaller portions that I now eat due to the general appetite supression, plus that two weeks of complete lack of appetite when I started the meds…I’ve dropped another five pounds in the last month, putting me at a whopping 157. Oy, vey. I realize that nobody has any sympathy with this problem, and rightly so, but shit. If it was intentional, that’d be one thing, but this is getting stupid.
Deb, who has been trying to fatten me up, is in mild despair, and I’m getting a little miffed, because while it’s great to have a trim waistline and all, I want to keep my curves! I like having curves! I’m glad to be a D-cup! I would much rather be a Bougereau than a Nagel, damnit! I have no desire to look like a twelve-year-old boy! (To say nothing of the fact that the jeans I bought a month ago that looked painted on are now merely comfy. I’ve confined my shopping to thrift stores these days for just this reason, so it’s only a three dollar loss, but crimony. Worse, I now appear to be in the ugly hinterland that is size 11. This size does not actually exist. This is a problem.)
Time for drastic measures. Since I can only eat fairly small portions of anything, I’ve got to make them fattening. We’re going to try a week of cheesecake for breakfast. It’s a cruel regimen, but I think I can manage it.