This year, winter came, and I packed on some extra poundage.
Enough where I felt like a bear who was hibernating in a dead whale, ensconced then not only in his wintery fat but also in an exoskeleton of pure blubber.
Now, as you may know, I am a writer (*spit-take* *ptoo* “No way!” you cry, your jaw unhinging from shock, your tongue lolling out, your eyes bugging). Writers lead lives that… well, to call them “sedentary” is a bit of an understatement. The other day, a tree sloth and his snail buddies came into my office and were all like, “You should really get up and do something. You’ve probably got diabetes.”
Thing is, I’ve actually been trying to purge the weight from forth my penmonkey frame. We had been going to the gym, but with a pregnant wife that became less of an option so we bailed on the gym membership and instead went for an elliptical and a Kinect. I was working out and burning scads of calories and I was tracking calories and eating far below my caloric range and still the pudge remained.
So, I said, fuck it, and decided to kick carbs to the curb. (Though, uh, not the exercise.)
Within a week, I lost five pounds. After a month, I’ve lost ten.
The body seems once more capable of losing weight, which is a good thing. And I’m not psycho about the carb thing — during the week, I say “no,” and on the weekends I say, “well, okay, maybe a little.”
Mostly, it’s working out. I mean, I’m a sucker for meat and veggies. Love me some nuts. (Shut up.) You don’t get the spreading warm comfort of pasta or bread, but of course whenever I’d eat those I’d end up mentally foggy, wandering down the driveway with one shoe on and underpants full of dead leaves. I’m no good on bread. Any writing I do after I eat a big bowl of pasta just ends up being a bunch of ellipses and onomatopoeia: “Guh… … bbuh… zing. Yarrr… whuh… wuzza… wooza… fnnnn… … … GNUUUUUUHGHRBLEFRBLERRRRrrrr. Then Neo became Tron Solo. The End.”
The other big issue is one of variety. Dinners aren’t so bad, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult coming up with creative breakfasts and lunches (OH JESUS CHRIST MORE EGGS).
And thus I pivot my hips and sashay over to you, my glittery bedazzled hive-mind.
Anybody out there eating low-carb?
Hell, even if you’re not, I could use some ideas for recipes. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks, whatever. (For the record, I don’t eat much processed food, which means no faux-sugars. I like stevia well enough, but the aftertaste makes me think I’ve been licking a battery coated in pulverized aspirin.)
If you’d be so kind as to ease your body into the comments below and give me some tips, I’d appreciate it.
Big ups. Danke-danke. Grassy-ass.