The Boneman Diet

A few weeks ago, I was leafing through the Pioneer Shopper and happened onto a classified space that advertised a support group for people on the "Atkins" diet. A support group? What is this Atkins guy doing to people? To be honest, I'd heard a little about this deal--something about cutting back on the carbs and eating mostly protein--I'm not sure, but I think they call a version of it the "Caveman diet." Still, I couldn't imagine such a thing would cause somebody to go running off to a support group. It's none of my business, but in my opinion, if you're on a diet that's making you that mental, perhaps you might be better off accepting the fact that you're a few pounds overweight, and just get on with it. American pop-culture is out to kill us all. Lipo-suction, Fen-Fen, Anorexia--we're getting carried away here. If Marilyn Monroe were to come along today, she'd be heralded as the next Kirstie Alley. This is all wrong. "Yes I'm a Little Chubby, So Go Screw Yourself" would make a good bumper sticker. I think.

On the other hand, I get caught up in it myself. I know a few people who've tried the Atkins deal and went from being chunky to looking like a junkie in record time. My wife's always hearing about all these success stories, and next thing you know, none of my pants seem to fit so good around the waste. Long story short, I'm on the program. No more carbs for me, and I'll tell ya, I could use some support.

Let me just first say, that one should never underestimate the sheer, radiant, glorious, beauty of a carbohydrate. Because away with carbohydrates, go just about 95 percent of what a normal human being ordinarily eats. Mexican, Chinese, Italian, breakfast cereals--kiss Ôem good-bye. Bread, fruit, rice, pasta, anything with sugar in it, beverages, they take it all. You can have water, unsweetened iced tea, and diet drinks, but that's it. And, as it turns out, light beer is not a diet drink. Not even close. It's brutal.

The biggest problem is that my metabolism is based on a delicate balance. And upon this egg-shell balance rides my mental stability. What I'm trying to say is I'm losing it. I'm snapping at my kids, being a jerk to my wife and I can't even eat a damn apple. I've foraged my cupboards to the point where I don't have a bean or a nut left to my name. I was so hungry the other day that I ate an entire can of chick peas. I haven't been quite the same since--and I like chick peas.

Carbohydrates must be pretty similar to drugs, because I've gone into withdrawals over here. I have this recurring dream where I'm bouncing across great loaves of bread like Neil Armstrong on the moon--and I wake up in a cold sweat, ready to sneak out of the house at three in the morning to see if I can't scare up a slice. "Of course it's good, you kiddin' me man, it's the best. It's Grandma Sycamores." It's sad--every morning I used to make fresh carrot and apple juice for me and my daughter--nowadays she calls Diet Pepsi, juice.
This "carb-deprivation" business just knocks the cheerful right out of you. I'm not in my right mind. Like the other day at the drive thru--"Would you like some fries with that, today sir?" "Y'think you're funny, asshole? Why don't you take off your little headset and step out to the car, Mr. comedy-boy." "What was that, sir?" "No fries, thank you." I really shouldn't even be driving. After a few weeks of this, you just completely take leave of your senses. It becomes almost like a religion--you start getting a little overzealous with the carbo-bashing. You even start judging other people, I'm all about: "I hope you're enjoying that Cinnamon roll, pal--because you're going straight to hell--you hear me, hell. They've got plenty of hot cross buns where you're headed, Pillsbury boy."

And you can pretty much forget about fast food. KFC is your only friend. "I'd like the 3-piece meal deal with a side of chicken and . . . chicken." Man cannot live by breasts alone. This is crazy, I can have all the fry sauce my heart desires but I can't go near a fry--how is this good for me? Your only other fast-food option is to suck the beans out of a burrito. It's a fairly compromising act, I should say. I'd recommend that you go off by yourself if you're going to try it. (For best results squeeze from the bottom, like toothpaste.)

You definitely don't want to try this Atkins business during the Holidays--it'll ruin Thanksgiving. "Please pass the . . . turkey," will pretty much sum up your culinary conversation. "Oh and pour me another glass of gravy." It also causes a crisis of conscience at church--do I stay true to my diet or do I cave in and take the sacrament. Of course, if you skip the sacrament, people automatically assume you've been up to no good. They'd be right, but it's none of their business.

The "Caveman Diet," you'd have to suppose that they call it this based on the premise that there weren't any fat cavemen. How do they know this--all they've ever found is bones? Strip me down to my bones and I don't have much of a beer-gut to speak of at all. Maybe this is where they came up with that crap about being "big boned." I really think the whole trick to this diet, is that you eventually lose interest in all of the delicious foods that are high in carbohydrates, because your dead.

The thing that sucks the worst, is that without carbs, there's nothing to eat anything on. Breads are gone, tortillas, crackers--you can't even prop up some damn tuna fish on a lousy rice cake. I'm going to starve here, I'm going nuts. I'm a small order of fries away from a nervous breakdown.

But I'm no quitter. Like I mentioned, I've got this friend who went from 215 to 165 in three months--which really gives me a lot of hope. I figure, three more months of this and by Christmas, I could be completely insane. I'll have to admit, I was pretty discouraged when I finally got my hands on the damn book. So far, I've just been flying blind, and all I had to do was thumb through a few pages to find out that I'd been going about it all wrong. Evidently, I've only been suffering about half as much as I'm supposed to. But the good news is I've only gained 14 pounds.