Carbs Are More Dangerous Than You Think!!

As I have indicated in past articles, I have a tendency to stray from the righteous low carb path of life. But I’m sure that everybody cheats every once in a while, right? Well, maybe if you’re some sort of Stepford-Wife-Alien-Robot entity who is bent on world domination through manipulation of the world’s fat people. Maybe you don’t. But for the rest of us, we cheat occasionally. And, unfortunately, I’ve been cursed with the unbearable gift of rationalization.

“Well, I hate to let this pizza go to waste.”

“I haven’t had any carbs all week long.”

“I do not want to seem rude by not eating what everyone else is eating.”

“The voice of Jim Morrison that lives in my head told me that the only way the other voices will stop screaming is if I eat a Big Mac.”

I’m sure you’re all familiar with one or more of these excuses. From social reasons to voices of dearly departed rock stars, we all have our favorite excuses. But its the fact that I can actually convince myself that I have no other choice than to cheat is what really bothers me! When I get on a roll, I could probably convince my own brother that he was an only child.

Recently, thanks to my amazing powers of rationalization, I cheated for a solid week. I had a guest come to town (a woman I met through the Atkins diet, thank you very much), and we both wanted to do all sorts of romantic things that require carbohydrates. We wanted to be like a regular couple, instead of a couple of Carbo-Nazis. I mean, let’s face it, there aren’t very many romantic meals that are Atkins friendly. Which would you find more romantic; a candlelit dinner of pasta at a fancy Italian restaurant, or an order of Buffalo Wings at Denny’s? There is a certain romantic charm that comes from the stale coffee and appropriately named Grand Slam meals (Will you watch my coat for me? I gotta go take a Grand Slam), but its nothing in comparison to the pure, raw sexuality of Italian food. Italian food soooo sexy! You can consume thousands of cloves of garlic and STILL get just about anybody in the mood.

So we went ahead and did a solid week of cheating, and we both felt pretty cruddy afterwards. When I kissed her goodbye for the last time as she boarded her flight back home to Ohio, she thought it was the thoughts of missing her that brought tears to my eyes. In all actuality, it was the thought of all the carb withdrawals I was going to have to face if I wanted to get back on track with my diet!

I have no problem admitting that I am a recovering carboholic. Carbohydrates are my pimp, and I am their syphilitic whore. In my heaviest days, I would lie, cheat, and steal just to get another Pepperoni Pizza Hot Pocket. A meal just wasn’t a meal without a huge side order of fries and a slice of cherry pie for dessert. The people at the Hong Kong Gardens Chinese Cuisine (finest fried rice in all the land) knew me, and had named me The Great White Hunter. Payday always meant a Friday night call to Pizza Hut to get 4 medium pizzas (all I would eat for the weekend).

But those days are behind me now, I thought. The cravings aren’t going to be that bad, are they?

For days I sat in my darkened bedroom, waiting for the carbo junkie withdrawals to wrack my body with heaping helpings of the cravings and the pain. I knew it would be coming, but when? My niece sat down and watched a movie with me, eating a big bag of microwave popcorn right in front of me; no urges or cravings, even though movies usually trigger a craving for popcorn in me. My roommates left half a pizza uneaten, out on the kitchen counter overnight. In the morning, I had no cravings for the pizza whatsoever, even though cold pizza is my absolute favorite breakfast item. I have to admit, I was getting pretty cocky. I would even be so bold as to walk right up to the bakery department at my local grocery store and sniff the bread. No cravings, no pain, no worries! I figured I had this problem licked! That is, I thought I had it licked, until The Incident.

There I was, sitting in my underwear and watching reruns of “Threes Company” on Nickelodeon, when I was suddenly attacked by a vicious box of Kraft Macaroni & Cheese! I didn’t know how or why this blue box full of easy-to-prepare creamy deliciousness had come to life, but one thing was obvious: this box of cheesy glop was either going to be eaten by me, or die trying!

I tried to fight it off as best I could, but it was no use. Somehow, the macaroni got the drop on me, and I was rendered unconscious. It must have then dragged my limp body in to the kitchen, because when I came to, I was standing over a pot of boiling water, ready to rip the top off the box.

WHAT AM I DOING?!? I exclaimed as I wrestled the evil blue box to the ground. I’M ON A DIET!!!

I managed to gain momentary control of the situation, which I used to my advantage. While the box was distracted, I grabbed it by its lower half. This made the Devil-Box lose its balance and bump in to the boiling pot of water, sloshing copious amounts of scalding hot liquid on my exposed arm. I let out a quick scream of insane anguish, then quickly plunged the box in to what was left of the boiling water and listened to its tormented screams of pain. Once the pathetic sounds stopped, I decided to not take any further chances and chuck the bastard in to the garbage disposal.

“Back to the bowels of HELL with you!” I yelled as I turned on the disposal, spraying shards of shredded pasta and fine mist of powdered cheese all over the countertop.

I stood hunched over the sink for a while breathing heavily, garbage disposal still running but no longer disposing of anything. The adrenaline was draining from my body, and being replaced with the sharp sensation of the second-degree burns that now covered my arm, and the paper cuts left all over my face and hands from the beating I had received from the blue box from hell.

I now know that, regardless of how easy I think I have it after a cheat, the carbs will ALWAYS come back to hurt me one way or another!