We decided to do the carb thing. There’d be health benefits, we understood. There’d be a trimming back of the waistline. We’d look, oh, 10 years younger, and have more zip than we’d had in eons.
We were pumped. And I mean pumped.
We got out a piece of paper and began to do the research.
“This. Is. Exciting,” the husband announced. “I can easily live without bread and potato chips and orange juice.”
“Absolutely!” I said. “I might miss pasta occasionally, but potatoes? So over-rated!”
“Cookies?” said the husband. “Who needs ‘em?”
We made a list of what to avoid and what to embrace. And then we went shopping.
“This is going to be so exciting!” the husband gushed. “Let’s load up on kale and watermelon and almonds!”
We did. We avoided the processed food aisle, the cracker aisle, the pancake aisle and the bakery, but made a beeline for the meat counter and the cheese department.
We came home and grilled the steak and steamed the vegetables.
Day one was brilliant.
Day two was great.
Day three was good.
And day four was, well, interesting.
I went into the kitchen and found the husband peering into the fridge.
“What are you looking for?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe something that doesn’t look like kale. Maybe something that looks more like — I don’t know — pizza.”
“Pizza’s taboo,” I said.
“I know,” said the husband.
“So are fish and chips,” I said.
“I know,” said the husband.
“So is chocolate milk,” I said.
“I know!” said the husband.
“So, I think, is beer,” I said.
The husband put his hands over his ears.
“I can’t hear you!” he said.
I could feel his pain. Sure, I felt all self-righteous and everything — look at me! No carbs! — but by day seven, I would have traded the house for a Teen Burger. With root beer. And fries.
And a chocolate sundae for dessert.
Sure, there were work-arounds, we knew that. We could spoon the spaghetti sauce over ribbons of zucchini. We could make lemon-blueberry loaf with almond flour and pizza with a cauliflower crust.
Still.
“I really want to order some breaded almond chicken for dinner tonight,” the husband said, oh, on about day 10.
“You’ll have to ask them to hold the breading,” I pointed out. “You won’t be left with much.”
“Right,” said the husband.
Sure, it all took some adjustment, but we kept it together and persevered.
Can’t say we’re 10 years younger yet, but we’re working on it. It’s all about keeping the burgers at bay, and embracing the merits of kale.
