Cravings
This being my blog, I get to blather about topics of my choice, so I’m gonna let loose.
For the last two weeks, I’ve been doing Phase 1 of the South Beach diet, the ultra low-carb and low-sugar phase, and the cravings are killing me. Why am I on the first diet of my life? Well, basically because this winter, and more or less for the last, I don’t know, eighteen months, I’ve been on enough of a food rampage, and my body’s been in some kind of age 40 slowdown, such that the waistband of all–and I mean all–my clothes with waistbands has been cutting uncomfortably into my belly. We’re talking, the first button is almost always undone when I sit down. As the scale at my gym corroborates, I have in fact been gaining weight.
Now, putting on a few pounds would not be a big deal for me but for the following facts: 1) If anything is tighter than my jeans it’s my budget, so I flat can’t afford to replace my wardrobe; 2) I know that weight put on around this point in life that is generally referred to as “middle age” (can that possibly describe me???) does not easily go away; 3) while my mid-section has never been the leanest part of me, I don’t like the look of cellulite on my belly, back and now SIDES; and 4) perhaps most importantly, I have to be on another cruise ship with 3,200 ultrafit and hypercritical gay boys in three weeks and it’s much more pleasant if I look fierce for that. When I found myself surrounded by mirrors in my stateroom on the Rio trip I realized that my bedroom mirror had been much too generous.
So I’d been wondering what to do about it (besides stopping eating my favorite Sees Scotch Mallow eggs that Jules had sent me FIVE boxes of) when I saw the South Beach Diet on my mom’s bookshelf a couple weeks ago. I read the book on the flight home and decided it was sensible and would be easy enough to do, since I generally like veggies and protein and you can have lots of that. Leaving sugar, even fruit, and pasta and bread behind for the first fourteen days? No biggie, I thought.
No: Biggie, as it turns out. I had no idea what an addict I had become. Nevermind the fact that almost immediately my energy levels balanced out and I had a much clearer head for thinking after the first sugar- and (“bad”)carb-free day. Nevermind that I no longer felt like I needed to pass out for an hour at 3 p.m., or that I remembered how much I like veggies and almonds and cottage cheese. Exercising daily made a big difference in my state of mind. In short, I feel better than I have in a long time. But WHERE THE HELL WAS MY CHOCOLATE? I WANT A TORTILLA WITH MY SCRAMBLED EGGS! WHY LIVE IF I CAN’T EAT THE BUTTERSCOTCH CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES THAT HELENE BROUGHT TO WORK??
Oh, the cravings I have seen. This weekend I had to pass up my favorite green tea frappuccino, pizza, oatmeal, my favorite Cape Cod potato chips that Katie’s mom had out for her party, chocolate chocolate chip ice cream (thanks a lot, Katie), sweet homemade banana bread, beer, and cruelest of all, Terry’s red velvet cupcakes with buttercream frosting. I know this won’t last forever, and tomorrow I get to reintroduce low-glycemic fruit and careful grains, but IT HURTS. Yes, my pants already feel a lot better around my waist, but IT HURTS.
I’m thinking we really don’t talk enough about the sweet, sweet drug of carbohydrates. There has to be no cultural addiction more epidemic than this. Right now I’m the equivalent of the heroin addict barfing on the walls, banging my head against the locked doorknob while my conscience stands outside encouraging, “you’re almost there, honey; just hang on a little longer.” The only difference is that the recovered heroin junkie will allegedly stay away from their drug for the rest of their lives, while I and the rest of us will try to have a more moderate and healthy relationship with carbs.
Sweet Jesus, that’s a lot to ask.
