June 17th, 2009

North Beach Diet

Diets do not appeal to me. My thighs, however, love them. That said, my whole family has climbed aboard the South Beach Diet boat. I still don’t know how I coaxed them, but we’re paddling all the same. Yes, we’re arriving somewhat late, but better late than never. Or is it?

Since Sunday we’ve been swimming in eggs, salads, meat, and ricotta cheese. Waves will be high the first two weeks.  The thunderstorm of eggs already has me shaky.  If I even imagine an egg now, I cringe.  This, and we’re only on day four. Good thing I have my V-8 juice. Great thing I like it.  We’ve already consumed more spinach than Popeye, and I half expect to wake one morning and scare my own self to death with bulging muscles.  Oh, did I mention we can’t eat fruit for two weeks? I now fantasize about apples and oranges. Sad, I know.

Last night we had a prolonged discussion on cheeseburgers and M&Ms. I finally put a stop to this. Food talk hour is now off limits, punishable by extra eggs. Pretty sure this will work.

Now back to the ricotta. With this diet I’m supposed to whip up dessert every night with this white pasty cheese.  You add slivered almonds,  almond extract, artificial sweetener, and serve it chilled.  Yuma!

Just kidding.

It tasted a bit like gussied up glue. The expressions on family faces ranged from horrified to disgusted.  A bit discouraged, the next night I added cocoa powder and baked it. Like a cheesecake, I thought. Oh, I love cheesecake. But I can’t talk about that. Anyway, it was better, but still far from cheesecake. Did someone say cheesecake?

Well, the good news is, weight is dropping. Three pounds down all around. If we can make friends with the egg we’ll have it in the bag.  On the third week, we’ll see our precious fruit once again. Be introduced to a potato.  If you don’t hear from me in the next ten days it means I’ve slipped into an egg induced coma. Someone please call a chicken. But really, this is a fine diet, as far as diets go.

If I could have it my way, though, I’d create the North Beach Diet. Only those who eat chocolate cake, cheeseburgers and French fries could participate.  No bikinis on this beach. Skinny people are not allowed.  Thighs flap here and have a grand time. Triple chins are all the rage.  Sunsets would swirl with barbecue smoke.  Eggs, ricotta cheese and salad would be curse words punishable by law.

But meanwhile I must go toss a salad.


8 Responses to “North Beach Diet”

  1. Lacy Says:

    Pretty good post. I just stumbled upon your blog and wanted to say
    that I’ve really enjoyed reading your posts. Any way
    I’ll be subscribing to your blog and I hope you post again soon!

  2. dorraine Says:

    Thanks for stopping by, Lacy!

  3. macromedia Says:

    Nice!

  4. Deanna Schrayer Says:

    If I didn’t know better I’d think this was my sister talking. She is always on some sort of diet or another. I say “why bother?” I hate diets, and I have the body to prove it! :) I love your hilarious writing style Dorraine.

  5. dorraine Says:

    I’m not a fan of diets myself, hence the post. Thanks for reading, Deanna!

  6. Steven Says:

    Nice post and blog! Greets.

  7. dorraine Says:

    Thanks for stopping in, Steven!

  8. Aaliyah Weston Says:

    Nice writing.A totally agree with you.I must go toss a salad too.

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Eleven-year-old Marnie Evans longs to be precious. She wishes on stars for parents who adore her, even though her family is dysfunctional. She also believes that jack rabbits and a boot-wearing Texas angel show her mysterious signs of things to come. Continue Reading


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