Eighteen days of dieting and my metabolism doesn’t take the hint

It’s been more than two weeks since I was forbidden to eat anything with fat or cream or butter or sugar… the list goes on and on.
However, as usual, I haven’t lost more than three pounds; which it’s nothing considering the obligatory effort I’m doing, because my lazy metabolism it’s in the wrong page of the book… lost as always.
Realistically, if heaven would be the good naughty things that we have in life and give us pleasure and joy… and hell would be the flat-out boring things (like low-cholesterol, fat free, no-sugar… puaj!); I’m definitely a “heaven girl”; probably that’s where I’m going in the after life, I say probably because my gall-bladder removal crushed all my chances to being an angel in the white paradise, because with this diet I’m definitely destined to be at the bottom of the flame-burning hell.
My current alimentary chart is missing a lot of levels; the size of my stomach is more or less, the size of a pea, my clothes are non-loose fitting (no-change there) and I still can’t sleep in a comfortable position because my inner-things push at my internal scars when I try to get at ease while I rest.
And you imagine what I have to endure when is dinner time and I have a non-dieting husband to feed?
He: Honey, its dinner ready?
Me: Ohh… yeah!, come sit at the table.
He: what’s this? salad? (he’s thinking: grass?)
Me: sweet bunny, do you remember our wedding vows? … for better and for worse… ring a bell? (I’m thinking: if I have to eat cardboard, so do you)
Needless to say that cereals and milk are a constant menu for my husband’s dinner now… twelve days more to go until I can start adding items to my diet… come to mama dear heaven!