Yarn diet: Officially broken. Gross-out diet: Officially begun.

Thanks, Knit Picks. That was $50 right there, almost all of it black and red yarn because I basically don’t buy anything else. I should know better than to even go to the site at all — I’ve only been to the site maybe three times, but ended up buying stuff every time. Dang.

While I’ve probably gained another four or five pounds of yarn, I did somehow lose a pound of myself. It probably has something to do with decreased appetite. The first factor is pretty simple: I went off the Pill. Within a few weeks, my mad and desperate cravings for junk food started to subside and I could finally drive down a street without mentally cataloguing all the desserts available at each fast food restaurant I passed. I’m not a big comfort eater; I eat when I’m hungry, mostly. The pill just made me hungry all the time.

Also, last night I started my first batch of soap made from the 21 pounds of lard I brought back from a big campout last summer. It was a “Leave No Trace” event, so we couldn’t just ditch the bacon fat, and there was a lot of it. Everyone in our camp had to bring a pound of bacon, and there were over 50 people in the camp. When you have that much grease, you have to dispose of it like hazardous waste — or use it!

You ever watch Fight Club? Remember the scene where Tyler Durden is throwing bags of yellow liposuctioned fat to the narrator? It looked like that. Lemme tell you, staring at pure, congealed fat the consistency of room-temperature butter for that long, it’s not hard to picture the jiggliest parts of your thighs looking like that on the inside. Talk about diet motivation. After scooping four pounds of lard into a bowl, melting it down and stirring it with lye water for an hour, it’s safe to say my appetite is suffering.

The whole kitchen smelled like the grocery store in Clear Lake that’s been deep-frying food in the same building for 30 years, and my hands still smell like the insides of the rubber gloves I wore when I was stirring the lye water. I never want to eat again.