Food
There’s a particular psych experiment that comes to mind when I look back on my diet. The Stanford Prison Experiment is exactly what it sounds like—a simulation of prison conditions where people played the role of prisoner and prison guard. Although it was set to run for two weeks, it had to be cut short on the sixth day due to how seriously the prison guards took their roles: The prisoners were subjected to hazing and other emotionally scarring acts of cruelty.
What am I getting at with this? You think you are consuming the food, but it will ultimately consume you.
I promise it will all make sense once you read my diet log.
INITIAL PREPARATIONS
In all its simplicity and fiber-rich goodness, oatmeal has become a household staple. I chose the oatmeal diet because, based on my inability to cook anything that isn’t preceded by the word instant, it was sustainable and realistic.
The plan—which I copped from Livestrong.com—is simple enough to follow: I’d have a one half-cup of oatmeal for breakfast, another half-cup of oatmeal for lunch, and any kind of low-calorie dinner.
I aim to eat almost exclusively oatmeal, fruit and nuts throughout the day; the plan was to constantly think up ways to make the wonder-grain taste at least a little interesting to the palate.
DAY 01: Off to a good start!
The diet is starting off well enough, what with all my determination to get the two weeks over with as soon as possible. Googling for the results fellow fad dieters got, I found a lot of people who were happy with eating oatmeal twice, nay, thrice a day because they liked the warm, satiated feeling it gave them.
I have a plethora of supplies in the kitchen to enhance the flavor (or lack thereof) of what is to be my life-source for the next few weeks; we had cinnamon, yogurt, apple slices, raisins, honey and brown sugar, just to name a few of my favorites.
My first breakfast is a half-cup of plain yogurt mixed with a half-cup of apple-cinnamon oatmeal, paired with my ever-present cup of black coffee. This isn’t a bad way to start the diet at all. It’s a visceral sort of pleasure to have the warm goop slide down one’s digestive tract. Kind of like being hugged from the inside, if that makes any sense.
Seeing as I am a student for most of the week, I’ve also decided to start bringing oatmeal to school. I’ve prepared two small jars, just the right size to hold half-cup servings, of raisin-cinnamon oatmeal. I threw in an apple into the lunchbox, for good measure.
Reactions from seatmates range from curious (“What is that?”) to pitiful “I’m so sorry for you, your meal looks so sad.”), but with the common denominator of disgust, because oatmeal isn’t the prettiest whole grain there is.
Dinner is what Parokya ni Edgar would lovingly call tortang talong. I’m going to sleep happy and well-fed.
DAY 02: Looking for loopholes
I brought my breakfast—a cup of raisin-yogurt-cinnamon oatmeal and an apple—to Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf (CBTL). I’m ordering black brewed coffee to down it with.
Like the proverbial serpent, my boyfriend arrives, holding a bag of salted caramel brownie brittle. God damn. How do I say no to brownie brittle? As I cook up a compromise, I think out loud on Twitter: “BROWNIE. BRITTLE. OATMEAL.”
Of course, the panopticon, @VantMag, is online to call me out for cheating.
Did you know that 75% of what we attribute as tasting is actually just smelling? I keep that fact in mind as I take repeated whiffs from the brownie brittle bag. CTBL employees are giving me dirty looks, but it’s all I can do for now.
I’m making apple cinnamon oatmeal for dinner as I reflect on all the food I can’t eat.
DAY 03: Look at this photograph…
Every time I do, it reminds me how surprisingly difficult it is to make food look pretty. My attempts at foodstagrams are all done in vain. Not even cute containers can save. It looks like I saved my vomit in a jar.
I’m spending more time styling my food than actually eating it, and it still looks this bad. It’s clearly not my fault. At least I’m not drinking fetus-infused water like Paul.
I’m also starting to feel less and less satiated with my servings, although my portions have been consistent throughout the past three days I’ve been on this diet. I’m starving by 10:30 AM. For a soluble fiber known to be satiating and energizing (according to the Internet, at least), oatmeal is not filling me up like I expected.
DAY 04: Eating shit
I have two words for you, friends.
Nutella. Champorado. Albeit being the most delicious mix-in I’ve done so far, being neither fruit nor yogurt, it’s technically cheating. Also, it looks like literal shit.
On that topic, I’m not sure just how much I can tell you about the revolution stirring up in my gut.
Tonight be cray. I’m probably not going to eat dinner.
DAY 05: Projection
The parental units finished my oatmeal diet supplies while I was out last night. I am not-so-secretly rejoicing. We don’t have a lot of food that I’m allowed to eat. Looks like I’m going to have to skip breakfast…
Hold that thought. I just found a mango.
I’m eating it with my bare hand as I type this entry—with my other hand, of course.
The mango is my enemy. I skinned it and bathed my hand in its juices.
This will have to sustain me for the rest of the day. I’ll pull a Santi Arnaiz and compensate for my lack of food with two jugs of water.
DAY 06: Jai guru deva om
Drinking three times as much water as before really helped stave off the hunger yesterday. I’m considering integrating it to my diet.
Breakfast is oatmeal with egg—my first savory oatmeal concoction. I had to skip adding the yogurt, though. There are two boxes of Shakey’s pizza downstairs.
This diet has taught me the real meaning of willpower.
My dinner is cream dory, tofu and oatmeal. The more I eat, the more my digestive system prematurely expels. What if I just give up on eating altogether? Prahlad Jani, be my guru. Teach me your ways.
DAY 07: Burning out
PSA: Do not drink one liter of water right before heading to Katipunan at 7 in the morning.
I just did a full-on sprint in the middle of traffic to “number one” at the nearest gas station. After which, I eat my plain oatmeal and strawberry yogurt with brewed coffee at CBTL—only to expel it less than an hour later. I am eating way too much fiber, but can’t help it. It’s what my diet is based on.
My dinner is plain oatmeal. I’m going to bed feeling drained.
DAY 08: Every meal is a copy…
I wake up as tired as a person who’s actually done something with her day. I don’t think I’m getting enough nutrients. My breakfast is plain oatmeal, because there is no motivation. There is no point. There is only fear and trembling.
Oh, and a constant hunger. My stomach grumbles louder than my actual voice. On the upside, though, my bowels have calmed down.
DAY 09: …Of a copy…
DAY 10: …Of a copy
This time, though, I refuse to eat any more oatmeal. My dinner is supposed to be water—but I’m getting especially tempted by a salad wrap from Fresh Selections. You know your diet is especially oppressive when you’re tempted to cheat on it with a salad wrap.
Day 11: Putting an end to it
I’ve decided that this isn’t working out. I’m having a hard time sticking to something that gives me so much (digestive) pain, but is neither energizing nor filling.
Fuck it, I’m going for some Pancake House fried chicken.
A RETROSPECTIVE
There were some days where I skipped meals because I hadn’t packed any oatmeal for school. Not only did this greatly deplete my energy levels—it also prevented me from having normal bowel movements.
I started getting a lot of weight loss comments, though. My weight fluctuates a lot as it is, but before starting the diet, I was honestly at an all-time high. I had to end the diet early for the good of my digestive system, but by then I lost about 5 pounds and gained a lot of compliments. I still maintain that it wasn’t worth the effort at all.
Perhaps some of us are way in over our heads with unrealistic fad diets. Eating just one kind of food, all the time, for the next two weeks was a hell of a bad idea. Oatmeal is essentially just fiber. I probably could’ve eaten my readings and yielded the same results. I had so much faith in the online testimonials of oatmeal diet fans, but I’m absolutely sure (now, more than ever) that it’s not for everyone.
I’m positive that this #CleanEatingChallenge was the Stanford experiment of the diet world. Oatmeal was warm and homey at first, but I notice that I now make hissing sounds while walking past its aisle in the grocery. What with all the digestive pyrotechnics of the past two weeks, this diet has only succeeded in conditioned taste aversion. Move over, Zimbardo—I just tread new ground in unethical diet experimentation.
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Pros:
Visible results.
It’s simple to follow.
Requires virtually zero cooking skills.
Taught me valuable life lessons: Know your limits, have some variety in your life, do not cling onto something that just hurts you.
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Cons:
Gets hella monotonous.
Digestive distress.
It’s not very nutritious if you don’t mix it with anything.
Might as well just eat your readings if you want a fiber overload like this.
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