For about the last six mornings I've awoken and announced to myself "Today I will begin that Atkins thing." You see, unlike Lileks, I actually have to drop a couple of pounds. I'm actually worried the poor little guy will dip below even our Atomizer's fighting weight of 140 without any carbs to stick to his bones.
So I say to myself that I'm going to do it, then find myself eating a bowl of Multi-Grain Cheerios and a piece of toast exactly twenty minutes later. Then I say "Tomorrow, then." I've probably done this at least a dozen times in the past month.
Today however was different. I woke up and ate nothing because I had to get to a haircut appointment and there was scant time to even choke down a cup of coffee. So when I got back, I realized that THIS may be the day that the diet begins. Feeling good and seeing that it was a relatively nice day, I set about for a walk.
About ten minutes into the walk I started getting those intense hunger pangs that the poor (say as Rush does) must often get. I began imagining what I would consume upon my return: corn beef...and cheese...and a chicken breast, perhaps a turkey burger sans the bread. It was going to be good, and it was going to be carbless.
Right about this time I saw my neighbor returning from his job as a snack chip delivery driver. He was piloting this gigantic truck with an even more gigantic picture of an open bag of Doritos on the side. The chips themselves must have been four feet high and the detail was alarmingly crisp--you could even see those little bumps they put on to hold the salty goodness in.
I tried to look away, but the site of the giant Cool Ranch delights had me transfixed. As he pulled into the driveway, he got stuck as he had yet to shovel from the last snow. Now I was faced with a dilemma: help the guy out and put temptation right in my face, or be a good guy and give him a hand, knowing that seeing the object of my desire so close would cause me to scurry to the nearest store for at minimum one bag, thus blowing my carbless day.
Against my better judgement, I decided to help. I positioned myself along the side of the regular-flavor Doritos and not the other side starring my friends the Cool Ranch in a vain hope that the temptation would not be as strong. So there I was nose-to-nose with a four foot Dorito that looked even more appealing given the fact that he must have JUST washed the truck. As I pushed, the grumblings began getting louder--clearly my stomache had made the Doritos and was quite insistent on my consuming several dozen handfuls.
The guy got unstuck rather easily, but now my walk was ruined. I marched directly back to my house and jumped into my car for the inevitable trip to the Super America.
As I pulled away from the store, my hand digging into the bag, I said to myself "Guess I'll start that diet tomorrow."
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