Meal 1: My place is boiling-lava hot, because it is 95 degrees in New York City. I wake up actually looking forward to my strawberry and almond butter smoothie. Once again, the blender wakes up my husband (sorry Kevin!). Khloé doesn’t have this problem. She lives in a mansion, not a two-room Brooklyn apartment.
Meal 1.5: I stop for coffee at my favorite local café. I indulge by putting some skim milk and a Splenda in my iced coffee. Once again, it’s a little naughty, but Khloé is sassy, and I think she would appreciate this devilishness.
Meal 2: I go for a banana for this meal. It’s as good as a banana is. Which is good! I like bananas!
Meal 3: Another salad. This diet is honestly starting to feel like a lot of chewing. Also, as the week goes on, my prepped chicken gets tougher to chew, and my spinach gets softer and soggier.
Meal 4: A coworker got ice cream macarons (!!!) sent to her, so she offers them around, but Khloé would never touch something so indulgent — unless it’s a cheat meal, which I already plan to partake in later in the evening. So I walk away and return to my friend: celery and almonds. A sad desk lunch has never been so, so sad.
Meal 5: I cut too much celery this morning, so I actually eat it twice in one day. It is boring, especially because I forgot my hard-boiled egg at home. I also somehow have just, like, a ton of energy all of a sudden. I believe myself to be delirious from the hunger, because everything seems funny and great — except my diet, which is still a serious bummer.
Meals 6 and 7: This day marks my second wedding anniversary, which has been in the making for much longer than my Khloé diet. My husband made reservations at La Sirena a month ago because he loves me, whereas I volunteered to do this diet on a whim at 4:30 p.m. on a Friday because I hate myself. But Khloé herself enjoys one cheat meal a week, so I don’t feel bad about all of the beer and pasta I consume. I have squid ink pasta with lobster, which is so fresh it tastes like the ocean. I also have a lasagna with a pesto so fragrant, I swear it was just picked from the garden. Yes, that’s right: two pasta courses. I love carbs. What can I say?
Later that night, my husband and I break into our wedding cake. (It was back in a freezer in our native Ohio during our first anniversary.) It hasn’t been put away with much care, so it tastes like pure freezer, but I’m OK with it. It’s way better than more fresh fruit.
Meal 1: Despite indulging in a massive meal the night before, I wake up famished. I add a banana to my strawberry smoothie, and it makes a world of difference. I actually begin to regret eating that banana yesterday for meal No. 2, because I only bought three, and now I’ll have to have a banana-less smoothie later in the week.
Meal 2: An apple. It’s fine.
Meal 3: Another salad. It’s fine, again. I really can’t emphasize how much chewing I am doing with so little return. This diet is like a pure jaw workout.
Meal 4: The phrase “I hate vegetables” has never made sense to me. There are all kinds of delicious veggies out there, and blanket hating a food group is just baffling. But… I think I hate vegetables now? After two and a half days of eating raw celery, raw peppers, and raw spinach, I am O-V-E-R it. I keep things fresh by eating a second apple with my almonds, and I am happier for it.
Meal 5: Back to celery. It’s boring and lame, but I power through. I remembered to bring my egg, so I shower that little baby with a ton of salt. In a moment of desperation, I drag my celery through the salt too, just for a bit of flavor. No one said the Khloé life was always glamorous.
Meal 6: I am skeptical of the grocery store cod I bought. I suspect it’s actually flounder. Either way, I prepare it like it’s cod, with a lovely breadcrumb topping, garlic, and lemon. I pair it with some steamed broccoli, which I drown in I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter. This diet is leaving me so exhausted at the end of the day that I totally forget my optional fruit meal. I go to bed at 10 p.m.