Today I'm starting the South Beach Diet.
And I know, I'm not supposed to use the word "diet"; it's a "lifestyle change". Whatever.
And if I don't sound overly enthusiastic, it's just the thought of giving up potatoes that has me grieving a little. I KNOW it's the right thing to do--I've read all the science behind it. I can feel in my own body that I'm having blood sugar issues (I'm at a higher risk for type-2 diabetes after having gestational diabetes during pregnancy). I'm convinced this is a healthy way for all of us--my whole family--to begin eating. It's not even about losing weight anymore. It's about being healthy.
But oh, how I'll miss all those deliciously unhealthy carbs.
My ever-faithful friend Chilihead (a faithful South Beach devotee) went with me to the grocery store yesterday and helped me navigate the tricky world of good carbs/bad carbs. And then, like any good friend would do, she accompanied me for a "bad-carb-farewell lunch" at the Finest Eating Establishment In America:
We laughed and wished for a camera to record our table piled high with carb-o-liciousness: quesadillas, tacos, nachos, churros and...yes, they're for real....cheesecake chimichangas. Ecstasy, I tell you.
And I ate so many carbs I had to come home and take a nap afterwards.
But I'm armed now, with my whole grains and my lean protein and my nuts and my dining-out guide. And I even promise not to talk about it too much, despite the fact that I will likely be cranky and tired as I go through carb-detox. If, for the next couple of weeks, my writing is flighty and disconnected (or perhaps I should say, "more flighty and disconnected than it already is"), you'll know why.
I just really want a cracker.