Not long after our triumphant return from Antigua Oodgie and I decided the bulbous, squishy parts of our bodies have to go. Months of feasting, carousing, and general abuse of our bodies have finally caught up with us--although you could argue that they caught up to us in our late 20s and we've been ignoring it since. Our weapon of choice? The South Beach diet.
For the eight of you not familiar with this diet, it in no way whatsoever resembles the actual South Beach. The implied decadence of the name is immediately countered by the word "diet" after it, which means that no matter how easy the diet may be you'll still feel like a POW two hours into it.
We're freakin' starving!
I have noticed a few bad habits I'd picked up over the years as a result of this
suicidal challenging decision. Apparently my brain is hard-wired to grab a bag of chips 20 seconds after I walk in the door, and the battered chicken fingers which make up 63% of Cheeky's diet look more and more succulent every day. I've been trusting my young, fit body to absorb my indiscretions, forgetting that neither adjective applies to me anymore. Now I'm picking the croutons out of my Caesar salad (oh, the irony of it all...)
Far and away the most traumatic change, though, is the strict prohibition of beer. We all know that it sometimes occasionally has been known to in some people to possibly maybe contribute to weight gain. OK, I get it. But seriously....none whatsoever? The timing of this could not be worse. The biggest national holiday of the year and they expect me to sip mineral water? I 100% guarantee that there's a loophole somewhere that I can exploit!
...as long as I'm OK with the consequences.
Any one else have any diet war stories they'd like to share?