AA: Atkins Anonymous
June 20, 2004 | 12:00am
You know youve died and gone to hell when you find yourself at three in the morning drunk as a skunk and scooping out the pork contents of a siopao at your neighborhood store. Yes its this Atkins thing again. This time around the theme is misery loves company.
I now play the carb Nazi to my two unsuspecting pals whom I will call Ernie and Bert. I put them on an experimental 12-step program since both are desperate to lose their spare tires but end up losing their minds instead.
Step One: Inform
I encourage them to surf the net. They choke when they find out something like orange juice is considered poison. They also find out that they will have to live life on brown rice from now on. They fear the commitment, as usual.
Step Two: Think Japanese
I take Ernie and Bert to Little Tokyo. Hopefully I can show them that going carb free is fun. We order fish, chicken, tofu and a lot of sashimi. I keep mum about the Mercury poison bit I read in Vogue in raw fish and pray the wasabi balances the poison out. Im evil, I think to myself, but I have done worse Ive taken pizza and garlic rice from their immediate future.
Death comes only as a weak consolation in their state. I overcompensate on their first day by ordering a dozen-and-a-half yakitori. They rub their tummies and are reminded of the greater good that they are doing for themselves. Satisfied by their meal they think that this Atkins thing is OK. They ask for the bill and a cast of gloom looms over their faces. They realize that Atkins aint cheap at all.
Step Three: Inspiration
Ernie and Bert, whorish metrosexuals (or whatever you call them), anticipate the arrival of hip Thai clothing company Greyhound. Ernie who decided to go on the diet because his Greyhound shirts wouldnt fit glows with determination. Bert tells us that he hates the gaping hole that comes out on the bottom of his trim Greyhounds and Agnes Bs that look like the mouth of those inflatable sex dolls and reveal his stomach. They question why Thais fit in Greyhounds despite all the Pad Thai, I tell them to shut up.
Step Four: Getting the artilleries
Shopping for healthy carbless fare can be one of the saddest affairs of your life. A funeral for a carefree existence of beer-soaked Saturday afternoons and midnight runs to Burger Machine. Ernie is with me, Bert is perhaps somewhere, cheating, I presume. We pick out soy milk, Carb rite bars, nuts and vitamins to ensure that he still lives after the two weeks. We try to act all excited when we see a carbless pancake mix but theres no fooling even the most dizzy carbhead on rehab that the picture on the box looks more like an oatmeal cookie gone wrong than a hotcake. Ernie gets depressed and wonders if this is all worth it. I remind him of Greyhound. When his face doesnt light up, I tell him that he can snack on cheese. He smiles and runs to the dairy section for cheese sticks. Going carbless really humbles us. He breezes through the dessert lane and again his mood darkens. I take it as a mood swing because the next minute he starts babbling about how he can make a luscious dessert with Ricotta cheese, lemon rinds and honey. He is very excited when he says this that I stop myself from telling him not to go crazy on the honey.
Step Five: Look back
Ernie and Bert wax nostalgic about their good old days in which I presume they are wearing their Greyhounds. Ernie talks about the time before he fell in love and became domesticated, when he was a gaunt party boy with eyebags being the only fat part of him. Bert looked back and realized the reason why the tire grew was that he continuously stole Oreos from his officemates. Ernie does not regret love and Bert does not regret the Oreos. I feel like Im losing. I treat them to some more boiled tofu.
Step Six: Brunch
Our Sunday tradition, riddled with buttered muffins and copious amounts of coffee. Ernie wears his Greyhound T-shirt which he notes is the last one that fits to remind him of his goal. He orders baked eggs and cream while Bert orders Eggs Benedict without the muffin. The server stares at Bert as if he had gone mad. Around this time Im sure he has but the server breezes on and punches in our orders. Ernie is going nuts that he can only order decaf coffee which no self-respecting brunch place will serve. They stab at their food and glare at me alternately.
Step Seven: Temptations
Its easy to have a lick of this or a taste of that and brush it off as harmless. Remember thats how addicts are born. Bert admits to a story when he cheated because the girl of his dreams offered him paella. Ernie understood where he was coming from. Behind every disaster is a woman.
Step Eight: Surviving
C tells me that he is going bonkers because he had to drive like a bat from hell at midnight to look for a cheese omelette. I tell him about the time I was at the beach and I had to scrape off the toppings from my pizza and pile the crust like the leaning tower of Pizza (sorry could not resist the pun lowest form of humor I know). My words of comfort and empathy do not lift his spirits. I surmise that its from turning cold turkey from Yellow Cab.
Bert complains that everyone is insensitive in his office and munches on cookies and gobbles rice toppings in front of him without a care. I tell him that at this stage you can become very self-involved.
Which leads us to. . .
Step Nine: Rethink your friends
After watching a movie on how the world ends and everyone dies, we all decide to have a midnight snack at the Peninsula Manila. Its funny how a table can suddenly be divided by what you order. Ernie, Bert and I feel confident with our choices as we order broth and hard boiled eggs to cap off our pleasant evening. We suddenly feel the serpent of Eden smiling at us when our friends orders churros con chocolate and spaghetti ragu. Our food comes and as we tap our eggs and sip our broth, our spaghetti eating friend tells us how he lost 10 pounds in a month going carbless. He has lost all credibility course, since he is there dipping churros and stuffing it in his mouth with a real smile on his face. Hes being smug! Ernie and Bert realize that they have not smiled in weeks.
Step Ten: Dizzy spells
Ernie and Bert now run to day spas to treat their dizzy spells. If they are pressed for time they go for sugar-free ice cream suddenly and then they become two old ladies on lithium when they get their fix. I start to feel guilty but I remind myself to keep it together.
Step Eleven: Surviving infidelity
On a drive back from another depressing carbless dinner Bert tells Ernie how I snap when Im hungry. When you go carbless you are hungry almost every other hour. Bert then tells Ernie how he has concocted a plan to keep my tantrums at bay. "Carry a cracker," he says like hes found the solution for SARS or something. I look at him and tell him what hes babbling about, he realizes what he just said and how he has outed himself. He stares at me with saucer-wide eyes. I dont talk to him for a day.
Step Twelve: Moment of Truth
Ernie is swell in a good way. He has lost enough pounds to make him believe that Greyhounds are in his immediate future. He gushes about the new whole-wheat pizza of CPK. He is a convert. Bert on the other hand still looks like his cheating has caught up with him. I am dizzy and excuse myself and tell them I have an appointment. I then grab a Quarter Pounder with Cheese and rethink my future.
I now play the carb Nazi to my two unsuspecting pals whom I will call Ernie and Bert. I put them on an experimental 12-step program since both are desperate to lose their spare tires but end up losing their minds instead.
Step One: Inform
I encourage them to surf the net. They choke when they find out something like orange juice is considered poison. They also find out that they will have to live life on brown rice from now on. They fear the commitment, as usual.
Step Two: Think Japanese
I take Ernie and Bert to Little Tokyo. Hopefully I can show them that going carb free is fun. We order fish, chicken, tofu and a lot of sashimi. I keep mum about the Mercury poison bit I read in Vogue in raw fish and pray the wasabi balances the poison out. Im evil, I think to myself, but I have done worse Ive taken pizza and garlic rice from their immediate future.
Death comes only as a weak consolation in their state. I overcompensate on their first day by ordering a dozen-and-a-half yakitori. They rub their tummies and are reminded of the greater good that they are doing for themselves. Satisfied by their meal they think that this Atkins thing is OK. They ask for the bill and a cast of gloom looms over their faces. They realize that Atkins aint cheap at all.
Step Three: Inspiration
Ernie and Bert, whorish metrosexuals (or whatever you call them), anticipate the arrival of hip Thai clothing company Greyhound. Ernie who decided to go on the diet because his Greyhound shirts wouldnt fit glows with determination. Bert tells us that he hates the gaping hole that comes out on the bottom of his trim Greyhounds and Agnes Bs that look like the mouth of those inflatable sex dolls and reveal his stomach. They question why Thais fit in Greyhounds despite all the Pad Thai, I tell them to shut up.
Step Four: Getting the artilleries
Shopping for healthy carbless fare can be one of the saddest affairs of your life. A funeral for a carefree existence of beer-soaked Saturday afternoons and midnight runs to Burger Machine. Ernie is with me, Bert is perhaps somewhere, cheating, I presume. We pick out soy milk, Carb rite bars, nuts and vitamins to ensure that he still lives after the two weeks. We try to act all excited when we see a carbless pancake mix but theres no fooling even the most dizzy carbhead on rehab that the picture on the box looks more like an oatmeal cookie gone wrong than a hotcake. Ernie gets depressed and wonders if this is all worth it. I remind him of Greyhound. When his face doesnt light up, I tell him that he can snack on cheese. He smiles and runs to the dairy section for cheese sticks. Going carbless really humbles us. He breezes through the dessert lane and again his mood darkens. I take it as a mood swing because the next minute he starts babbling about how he can make a luscious dessert with Ricotta cheese, lemon rinds and honey. He is very excited when he says this that I stop myself from telling him not to go crazy on the honey.
Step Five: Look back
Ernie and Bert wax nostalgic about their good old days in which I presume they are wearing their Greyhounds. Ernie talks about the time before he fell in love and became domesticated, when he was a gaunt party boy with eyebags being the only fat part of him. Bert looked back and realized the reason why the tire grew was that he continuously stole Oreos from his officemates. Ernie does not regret love and Bert does not regret the Oreos. I feel like Im losing. I treat them to some more boiled tofu.
Step Six: Brunch
Our Sunday tradition, riddled with buttered muffins and copious amounts of coffee. Ernie wears his Greyhound T-shirt which he notes is the last one that fits to remind him of his goal. He orders baked eggs and cream while Bert orders Eggs Benedict without the muffin. The server stares at Bert as if he had gone mad. Around this time Im sure he has but the server breezes on and punches in our orders. Ernie is going nuts that he can only order decaf coffee which no self-respecting brunch place will serve. They stab at their food and glare at me alternately.
Step Seven: Temptations
Its easy to have a lick of this or a taste of that and brush it off as harmless. Remember thats how addicts are born. Bert admits to a story when he cheated because the girl of his dreams offered him paella. Ernie understood where he was coming from. Behind every disaster is a woman.
Step Eight: Surviving
C tells me that he is going bonkers because he had to drive like a bat from hell at midnight to look for a cheese omelette. I tell him about the time I was at the beach and I had to scrape off the toppings from my pizza and pile the crust like the leaning tower of Pizza (sorry could not resist the pun lowest form of humor I know). My words of comfort and empathy do not lift his spirits. I surmise that its from turning cold turkey from Yellow Cab.
Bert complains that everyone is insensitive in his office and munches on cookies and gobbles rice toppings in front of him without a care. I tell him that at this stage you can become very self-involved.
Which leads us to. . .
Step Nine: Rethink your friends
After watching a movie on how the world ends and everyone dies, we all decide to have a midnight snack at the Peninsula Manila. Its funny how a table can suddenly be divided by what you order. Ernie, Bert and I feel confident with our choices as we order broth and hard boiled eggs to cap off our pleasant evening. We suddenly feel the serpent of Eden smiling at us when our friends orders churros con chocolate and spaghetti ragu. Our food comes and as we tap our eggs and sip our broth, our spaghetti eating friend tells us how he lost 10 pounds in a month going carbless. He has lost all credibility course, since he is there dipping churros and stuffing it in his mouth with a real smile on his face. Hes being smug! Ernie and Bert realize that they have not smiled in weeks.
Step Ten: Dizzy spells
Ernie and Bert now run to day spas to treat their dizzy spells. If they are pressed for time they go for sugar-free ice cream suddenly and then they become two old ladies on lithium when they get their fix. I start to feel guilty but I remind myself to keep it together.
Step Eleven: Surviving infidelity
On a drive back from another depressing carbless dinner Bert tells Ernie how I snap when Im hungry. When you go carbless you are hungry almost every other hour. Bert then tells Ernie how he has concocted a plan to keep my tantrums at bay. "Carry a cracker," he says like hes found the solution for SARS or something. I look at him and tell him what hes babbling about, he realizes what he just said and how he has outed himself. He stares at me with saucer-wide eyes. I dont talk to him for a day.
Step Twelve: Moment of Truth
Ernie is swell in a good way. He has lost enough pounds to make him believe that Greyhounds are in his immediate future. He gushes about the new whole-wheat pizza of CPK. He is a convert. Bert on the other hand still looks like his cheating has caught up with him. I am dizzy and excuse myself and tell them I have an appointment. I then grab a Quarter Pounder with Cheese and rethink my future.
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