A Household Word: Confessions of a Carbohydriac

There is nothing more boring than someone talking about their diet. Except perhaps, someone writing about their diet. But I can’t help it. I am on one of those trendy, high-protein, weight-loss plans and all I can think about is pizza, beer and empty carbohydrates. It’s been three hours.

I chose the South Beach Diet because although it doesn’t have the caché of being named for a dead physician, it does conjure up images of poolside cabanas and buff guys bearing trays of delectable tidbits. In reality, this diet is a metabolic boot camp where, for the first two weeks, your body is coerced from burning glucose (which is sugar), into burning fat (which is your hips). That’s the theory, anyhow.

It had better work, because aside from giving birth to three kids (who are directly to blame for my current, miserable shape), eliminating all bread, wine, chocolate, pasta and pleasure from my life has been the most difficult thing I’ve ever done.

The quest for a new me began when I woke up this morning and weighed myself. Naked, with an empty bladder, I held firmly onto the bathroom towel rack – 140 pounds. Ugh. I cut my fingernails and weighed myself again. No change.

Disgusted, I threw on a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. It was a miracle! The waistband was loose and the jeans hung on my hips. Hallelujah! The diet works! I stepped on the scale – 141 pounds. I examined the jeans. They were my husband’s. I pulled on sweatpants and headed downstairs to make breakfast for the kids.

I poured bowls of cereal and popped a few Frosted Flakes® into my mouth. Then I choked. Frosted Flakes are not allowed in Phase I of the South Beach Diet. They are made of corn, which is forbidden, and they are frosted with sugar, which is evil. They are also GRRRREEEEEAAAAT!  I spat them into the sink.

“Mommy, what’s wrong with the Frosted Flakes?” my son probed.

“Nothing,” I lied. “It’s just that they are loaded with carbohydrates and glucose and ...”

“Actually, I don’t think I want Frosted Flakes anymore,” he said. “Can I have an Eggo® instead?”