OMAD Diet Gone Wrong: Coffee, Desserts & Toothache

My sister nicknamed me OMAD — One Meal A Day. I started with a lazy plan, but it quickly spiralled into an OMAD diet gone wrong. Mornings began with black coffee, nights ended with desserts, and my toothache seized control like a dictator. Minimalism? Sure, until temptation walked in wearing bangles and carrying laddoos.

The ink on my house lease took the N out — no Nomad life for me, just OMAD life. However, OMAD didn’t see her coming. After only three days at hers, I sprawled on the couch like a python post-buffet, half-asleep, fully stuffed, and mentally bargaining with my jeans. My toothache grabbed the mic and heckled every bite: “Another drag? Won’t help. Try a root canal, champ.”

Meanwhile, OMAD morphed into “two meals, three desserts, and one thousand polite-but-deadly invitations to eat.” The minimalism vanished. Instead, I restricted my movement between the table and the bed.

And then diabetes winked at me from across the street, fixing her lipstick and waiting to move in. By now, this wasn’t an OMAD experiment; it had turned into an OMAD diet gone wrong survival story.

So, the dentist has earned the top spot on my speed dial. Tobacco handed in its resignation letter. Sugar, on the other hand, staged a coup and took over completely.