Seven days. That’s how long I’ve been on the
South Beach diet, and there are a couple of things I have come to learn.
The first is, no matter how much you think you like something, after having it every day for seven days, your affection wanes. That being said, eggs, I am ready to break up with you, in a finite ‘it’s been fun, but let’s never speak again,’ kind of way. (No, seriously, do not convo me.)
The second is, my want for all things carbs and sugar are not as hard to control as I thought they would be. Ultimately, the uber frustrating part of not having any carbs (and eliminating all sugars including fruit and certain veggies), is not so much the
Intervention-esque cravings, it’s the construction of a meal within such strict confines.
My husband has of course made things easier by, in an act of solidarity and support, has started eating what I eat when at home. (Air kisses!)
The true willpower test will be this week, as I get together with two of my girlfriends for our regular dinner and
drinks. While I can forego the cocktails and dessert with relative ease (oh
Stiff Lemonade, do know I miss you), it’s the rest I’m worried about. I will have no choice but to instruct them on the ‘shame and destroy’ approach. What, you may wonder, is that?
Quite simple really. They will be given carte blanche to manipulate and shame me into keeping me honest. Whatever they have in their arsenal will be tolerated, and later forgiven. It is all for my own good. For as we all know, a slip off the wagon means many a scraped knee and slivers trying to claw your way back on.
That being said, future blogs on my bruised ego will be forthcoming.
Continue to wish me luck, and forward along any advice you may have.