I am on a diet. Not a healthy I'm Gonna Cut Back on Fatty Foods Diet. An actually fucking diet. It was not my decision. I agreed to it, but the idea was my doctor's. Based on recent routine blood work followed by a Not At All Routine Sonogram of my Liver, she believes shedding a few pounds will help with some of the complications I have with Multiple Sclerosis. I wouldn't mind losing some weight, and I am quite fond of my liver so I agreed. I spent most of my life on the thinner side and slowly gained when I quit smoking, and got older, and married a guy who loves big meals, blah blah blah. So I took her advice and now I'm on a diet. She recommended South Beach.
I've never done this before. When someone tells me they're on a diet, I'm the one who rolls her eyes, tells them to put down the cheeseburger, then recommends a lap around the block. Now I'm on a food plan that bans the consumption of carbohydrates for the first two weeks. Carbohydrates. Starch. Do you have any idea what remains to be eaten when you ban carbs and starch? I'm serious, someone please tell me because the only shit that doesn't have a little carb or starch in it is meat and oil, and tasty though these things are, I've always thought these are the things that make us fat.
OK. It's not the worst thing in the world. There are plenty of foods you're allowed to eat, and I love all food so it's not like I'm starving. But a stroll though the supermarket today revealed a dark and twisted relationship with food that I was only marginally aware of.
When I was single, dinner was comprised of whatever I found in my cabinets. Spaghettios? Fuckin' A. Ice cream? Shit, one of the good things about being an adult is being allowed to have ice cream for dinner. When I started dating The Boy, he came by one night and noticed a jar of peanut butter on the counter next to a fork and an open bag of Nestle's Tollhouse Chocolate Chips. "Are you baking?" "No, I just had dinner." He opened the jar and saw the fork track marks. He never looked more shocked until the following moment when I told him that every forkful of peanut butter got chocolate chips sprinkled on it. It's one of those priceless moments we like to bring up occasionally. He thinks I'm crazy - I'm still sad for him that he doesn't understand the pleasure of a mouthful of peanut butter and chocolate chips for dinner.
Since marrying The Boy there is now A Plan when we shop. A protein for every night. For every protein, a vegetable and a starch. Without exception. Cornish hen is ruined without stuffing. Fish is unthinkable without rice. A steak without potato is not a steak. Don't even get me started on pasta night which requires a loaf of Italian bread, half of which I eat on the way home. In my college days I would buy a loaf of Italian bread just for the walk home. Now I only eat half because a) we still need some for dinner and b) it's less than a three minute drive. If I didn't have MS I'd probably walk it which would require a second loaf because I would certainly devour the first on the trip home. Easily.
The only category that doesn't go on the list are Fruits. He doesn't eat them so I just buy whatever looks fresh and yummy. Without fail there are bananas, mangos, kiwis, pineapple, and berries of every kind topping off the cart before I hit check out. Except for today. Because fruit is one big fat carb. One beautiful, juicy, precious carb. I thought I had a thing for chocolate. Let me tell you something. For one week now, I've had no bread, no rice, no pasta, no potato, no corn, and no fruit. And as I walked my slow and steady pace through that supermarket today, leaning on the shopping cart like always for its support, it occurred to me that when I hit the next phase of this damn diet, when I am allowed to reintroduce Good Carbs back into my life, I am going to fuck the shit out of a bowl of pasta. I'm going to eat a strawberry so hard I will make it blush. I'm going to do things to a loaf of Italian bread that will make the baker sweat. I'm gonna get all Smoove B on a pineapple and hit it doggy style. I'm gonna spank it like it owes me money, and make it call me Mistress. Yeah, Baby...
☯ The One Thing
I've never done this before. When someone tells me they're on a diet, I'm the one who rolls her eyes, tells them to put down the cheeseburger, then recommends a lap around the block. Now I'm on a food plan that bans the consumption of carbohydrates for the first two weeks. Carbohydrates. Starch. Do you have any idea what remains to be eaten when you ban carbs and starch? I'm serious, someone please tell me because the only shit that doesn't have a little carb or starch in it is meat and oil, and tasty though these things are, I've always thought these are the things that make us fat.
OK. It's not the worst thing in the world. There are plenty of foods you're allowed to eat, and I love all food so it's not like I'm starving. But a stroll though the supermarket today revealed a dark and twisted relationship with food that I was only marginally aware of.
When I was single, dinner was comprised of whatever I found in my cabinets. Spaghettios? Fuckin' A. Ice cream? Shit, one of the good things about being an adult is being allowed to have ice cream for dinner. When I started dating The Boy, he came by one night and noticed a jar of peanut butter on the counter next to a fork and an open bag of Nestle's Tollhouse Chocolate Chips. "Are you baking?" "No, I just had dinner." He opened the jar and saw the fork track marks. He never looked more shocked until the following moment when I told him that every forkful of peanut butter got chocolate chips sprinkled on it. It's one of those priceless moments we like to bring up occasionally. He thinks I'm crazy - I'm still sad for him that he doesn't understand the pleasure of a mouthful of peanut butter and chocolate chips for dinner.
Since marrying The Boy there is now A Plan when we shop. A protein for every night. For every protein, a vegetable and a starch. Without exception. Cornish hen is ruined without stuffing. Fish is unthinkable without rice. A steak without potato is not a steak. Don't even get me started on pasta night which requires a loaf of Italian bread, half of which I eat on the way home. In my college days I would buy a loaf of Italian bread just for the walk home. Now I only eat half because a) we still need some for dinner and b) it's less than a three minute drive. If I didn't have MS I'd probably walk it which would require a second loaf because I would certainly devour the first on the trip home. Easily.
The only category that doesn't go on the list are Fruits. He doesn't eat them so I just buy whatever looks fresh and yummy. Without fail there are bananas, mangos, kiwis, pineapple, and berries of every kind topping off the cart before I hit check out. Except for today. Because fruit is one big fat carb. One beautiful, juicy, precious carb. I thought I had a thing for chocolate. Let me tell you something. For one week now, I've had no bread, no rice, no pasta, no potato, no corn, and no fruit. And as I walked my slow and steady pace through that supermarket today, leaning on the shopping cart like always for its support, it occurred to me that when I hit the next phase of this damn diet, when I am allowed to reintroduce Good Carbs back into my life, I am going to fuck the shit out of a bowl of pasta. I'm going to eat a strawberry so hard I will make it blush. I'm going to do things to a loaf of Italian bread that will make the baker sweat. I'm gonna get all Smoove B on a pineapple and hit it doggy style. I'm gonna spank it like it owes me money, and make it call me Mistress. Yeah, Baby...
☯ The One Thing
Hunger is the best sauce in the world.
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