By David High
Hate is a word that I try not to use, if at all possible. I’m going to make the rare exception in this column, however.
I hate bran. I hate oats, as well. As a matter of fact, I hate anything that you could find in a cow’s daily feeding regimen.
Over the past few homebound-months I have been thinking a lot about food.
Real food, that is. This is due to the fact that I am not getting any.
My doctor and dietician devised a diet, which initially sounds very liberal.
They stated, quite proudly I might add, that I could eat anything that I wanted as long as it isn’t tasty.
In order to get me off on the right foot, my dietitian went to the grocery store and bought everything that had "bran" or some kind of grain in its title. I’m not sure, but I believe I had "bran" pork chops last night with whey-based potatoes and oat gravy. I’m not at all happy!
Americans are now more aware of the problems caused by being over-weight than at any other time in our history. Obesity increases your chances of having any number of maladies, not to mention reducing your chances of getting a decent date even on dating sites like Fat People.com, Large Friends.com or FarmersOnly.com.
If you think about it, it is amazing how anybody can remain thin in this country. About half of the commercials on the television are for some kind of cheese-infused fast food. After dieting for months, I’ve developed the uncanny ability to spot a Big Mac wrapper blowing across the highway at a hundred yards.
I remember last year joining some friends at a Bonanza Steakhouse for a birthday celebration. The restaurant was promoting something called the "Ultimate American Skillet Dinner." I gained a pound just reading the description of it on the menu. It read: Our incredible steak fries smothered with award-winning spicy buffalo chili, accompanied by a melted three-cheese combo, tomatoes, sliced jalapenos, sour cream and guacamole. This was one of the more moderate offerings.
Referring to me, one of the out-of-work comedians at the table said, "You can give the Michelin Man here a tumbler of water and some dried bran."
Cross off one friend.
So, you can see what I am up against.
After torturing myself this way for months, I decided to take things in my own hands and went to the library to see if I could find a diet book more fitted to my personal needs.
Eureka, I found gold in the form of a diet book called "The 23 and One Half Hour Diet by Bubba Jones PH.D. For the most part I am reluctant to read anything written by someone who is so self-promoting as to put a title after their name. I don’t put any educational achievements behind my name in this column, and it is not just because I don’t have any either.
The ‘Doctor Jones (PHD) Diet’ was based on the theory that for all but one-half hour of every day, you unwaveringly starve yourself. Then for 30 minutes you can feed on a guacamole appetizer/dip and chips, a 32-ounce T-bone steak, steak/fries smothered in cheese and large double banana split sundae or anything else you can slam-dunk in a half hour.
I’ll let you know how it works out or you can probably contact me at the St. Mary-Corwin Medical Center.