The scale very rudely informed me this morning that my jeans have not been lying to me: I've gained quite a bit of weight. I carried this knowledge and the extra five pounds* with me to dim sum. After scarfing down everything is sight, I decided to go back to Phase I of the South Beach Diet again. What I hate most about South Beach is how much cooking it requires. It's really fucking hard to find super low carb items without preparing them myself. I made many faces and disgusted noises as I thumbed through the book's recipes, then settled on poached salmon with cucumber sauce for dinner tonight. Since the recipe made six servings, at least I'd have lunch and dinner for a few days.

Grocery list written out, I went to the store. When I checked out 25 minutes later, I was pleased by my efficient shopping. Except that I forgot the fucking cucumbers. Fine. Who needs cucumbers in cucumber sauce anyway?

At home, I unpacked the goods. I reconsulted the book. I bought the wrong kind of dillweed - it was supposed to be fresh, and called for four sprigs. I hate shredded green shit in a small bottle. Fine. Who will notice if I sprinkle random amounts in the pan? Also, I discovered that the 32 oz. box of chicken broth that I bought as a substitute for dry white wine and chicken bullion cubes leaked in the bag. And that I no longer had a skillet, so would have to use a frying pan and balance the lid on it. Fuck it. The recipe will be great.

While preparing the sauce, I decided to use green peppers for the missing cucumbers. I also realized that the salmon was supposed to be served chilled. Ninety minutes later, when he Husband sat down to eat, I asked what he thought. He was quiet. Great, I thought, another tasteless fucking dish that I slaved over. He opined his dislike of chilled fish. Fine. I'll eat the entire bland thing myself this week, I said and took a first bite. It turned out to be pretty damn tasty. Yay!

Still, I hate cooking.

*That's the five pounds above what I thought I might have put on.