A couple of months ago, I noticed that once again (it happens every few years ... or sooner) my pants are all starting to hurt.
At best, there is a little difficulty taking deep breaths. A little worse are the waistlines that require the top button to remain unpopped (jeans in particular seem to fit in this intermediate category). Yet another level includes the suit pants that actually make my intestines groan and belch internally, generating highly embarassing noises that sound kinda like balloons being rubbed rudely together. The ultimate painful pant is the pair that can actually button, but must be unclipped in the car due to the resulting excruciating pain.
Enough is enough. I don't feel like yet again shopping for pants with yet another two inches in the waist. I can remember my 28-inch waisted Levi's 501s back in my freshman year of college, being supplanted by 30-inch corduroys, and then by 32-inch jeans, and 33-inch acid washed Lee Riders during my first job out of college. 34s soon followed in the cheap poplin khakis that so many young adults wear to work; eventually phased out in favor of 36-inch Levi's after moving to Los Angeles; and now my most comfy pants are 38-inchers, meaning I now require MORE than a single yardstick to go around my belly.
Enough, I say! But then again, who wants to diet, count calories, exercise daily in a health club where goons deliberately leave unstacked weights on benches so they can swagger to a mirror and flex for the peanut gallery?
Certainly not me, to all counts. So we turn to the Atkins Diet, a high-protein, low-carb eating plan where you can enjoy all the flavors of meat, fat, butter, and so on and still drop poundage. It worked great for me one before, and I am already enjoying the freedom of the meals again.
Tonight, we had half-pound T-bone steaks, sprinkled with garlic salt and parsley. I roasted and then sauteed a bunch of baby bok choi with sliced shiitake mushrooms, sprinkled in a little chicken stock and mustard, and voila, an incredible meal prepared in less than 25 minutes.
I also just had a Hebrew National frank and a cup of Illy decaf with a drop of heavy cream and a packet of Splenda.
So I won't be eating cakes, cookies, ice cream, bread, crackers, or pancakes for a while. Those are the things that made my pants start to hurt. So farewell for a while and maybe, when my pants and I are on good terms again, we can meet once in a while for coffee.
Atkins Away! 192 pounds and - hopefully - subtracting.
--ATKINS GUY