ed adkins dot com

Overheard a moment ago…

“Still on Atkins?”
“No.”
“Then why are you still stayin away from bread?”
“I heard once you go back on carbs you blow up like a baloon.”

Dang man. I can’t imagine walking past muffins, bread, croissants, biscottis, cookies, cake, rolls and the like- only to want what you can’t have. It would be like living with a freshly baked, buttery, flaky monkey on your back. Not me, brother.

He’s not even doing because he chooses to now- he’s a captive to Dr. Atkins. The good Dr. may be dead, but still his chain gang grows. They get snared with the idea of losing a few quick & easy pounds, and before they know it they’re lined up in striped jumpsuits listening to the Captain’s speech:

“Any man who lays a hand on a petit four, get the box. Any man caught nibblin’ dinner roll, gets the box. Any man losin all control after starvin himself of carbs for six months and tears into a whole loaf of bread like its the gosh dern secret of everlasin’ life- makin all kinds of snortin’ noises whatnot- you can bet yer bottom dollar- that man gets the box. Am I clear?”

No. No you’re not clear, Cap. I know where I got this gut. I got it sitting at me deskjob 8 hours a day gulping down soda and shoveling double quarterpounders. I got it from beer. Delicious, frothy carb-infested bottles of malted hoppsy goodness. I got it at 5 bucks a dozen for Krispy Kreme and I got it from thick-crust pizzas I ate all by my self while flipping channels on my huge TV.

But I will never ask your help to get rid of it. I need to go for a freakin jog. I need to ride the bike thats sitting in my stinkin garage since i graduated college and lost all that free time. So screw your plan and your anti-carb prison, and that insanely stoic guy with the mirror sun-glasses and the shotgun- he could use a bran muffin. Might make him regular.