As the #SaveDave (from himself) campaign hots up, I find myself in the kitchen removing the yolks from hard-boiled eggs.
Not only that, but I’m steaming asparagus spears and white quinoa, and roasting extra-trim beef. There will be no rich gravy or thick, sticky plum sauce for the beef – oh no – it’s a teaspoon of Worcestershire sauce, and that’s it.
Gone are the days of bacon and potatoes deep-fried in duck fat, on pasta drenched in creamy mayonnaise in a baguette. No more the lavishly roasted duck breasts dripping sweet mandarin sauce.
Gone, too, are the days of convenient overindulgence at the McDonald’s drive-through. No KFC family meals. No more Wacky Wednesdays at Steers.
More often than not you’ll find me at the fish deli, picking up a fresh piece of hake or kingklip. Once I even bought trout, but that’s a haddock-tasting travesty I’ll never repeat. Salmon is good, and so is tuna – and both are so easy to cook they’re practically as convenient as any fast-food drive-through you care to mention. Quinoa, on the other hand, is more troublesome and finicky to cook than duck, and less fun to eat, too.
My work lunch boxes these days are filled with tuna, tomato and lite mayonnaise – with sprinklings of sesame seeds because fibre and roughage are things I need to care about.
I eat All Bran Flakes with fat-free milk, and sweeten my fat-free yoghurt with Agave nectar instead of sugar or honey.
But mostly, I rip the heart of gold out of hard boiled eggs, and eat what’s left with a light dusting of salt.
In just less than three months, I’ve lost over 12kgs. My clothes fit better and I have more energy. My ulcer is less murderous and sleep – when it happens – is deep and restful.
I miss cheese, of course, and crisps, and chilies, and ice-cream, too. But it’s all for the greater good and if it means I never have to feel the way I did in December when my ulcer ruptured, then I’m game for this all to be a permanent thing.