No carbs. No fat. No sugar. Obviously, no dairy. Just soup. Only lemons. Detox. Re-hydrate. Smoothies. Fibre. Hormones. Glycemic index. Blood type. Mini-meals. Snacks. Organic. Locavore. Paleo. Veggie. Vegan. Macro. Nothing after 7 p.m. Water. No alcohol. No caffeine. Yes, caffeine. Yes, alcohol. Just a bit though.
Weigh it. Count it. Log it.
I sat down to write this post (climbing off of my proverbial soap box) with plans to lecture about the over-sexualization of women in our society, how the media portrays all women as slender, well-toned size twos, and that celebrities brag about being able to eat everything and not exercise and still be super-skinny (ahem, lying!) or else they extol the opposite and preach lifestyles that are simply unattainable to us mere mortals (ahem, Gwyneth!).
But you don’t need to read that.
You already know all of that.
We all know all of that.
This week’s theme is about diets and I am going to tell you how I feel about diets. And I am not referring to those who have medical issues or a history with food addiction . . . I am simply referring to myself.
The word diet implies depravity.
Give up cheese? Uh-uh. No way. I have yet to meet a Gouda that I didn’t like. And Boursin would be awfully lonely without a fresh-from-the-oven white (yes, white!) baguette. Donuts are like long-lost friends. Every few months or so, I need to take a bite. Check-in. Remind myself of the good times we used to have together.
A New York steak smothered with fried onions and a glass (or three) of Chianti? I couldn’t live without this meal.
And pasta. Don’t even get me started on pasta. I just made 68 bottles of sauce!
Life’s just too short to be depriving myself of anything. Everything in moderation is what I believe, balanced with exercise and sleep (where are you, sleep?).
Years ago I saw Eat, Love, Pray and this scene best sums up the way I feel about diets and life. It’s worth the two minutes – trust me!
Now I have a craving for pizza.