My meat-eater husband decided he would join in the company weight-loss challenge. Let me paint you a picture: 5-foot-8 with what basically amounts to a beer gut, weighs in at 230 (which was a bit of a surprise for me, but I digress). The woman who won the competition last year lost 18 percent of her body weight.
For Scott, that would be almost 40 pounds. *Yellow flag flies as the crowd yells, "Impossible!"
But my meat-eater husband, who always knows best, says he can do it. I try to convince him that healthy weight loss will include the consuming of green, leafy vegetables. This does not fly. I change my tactic, telling him the only diet I know of that will work with his picky palate is the no-carb one. To my chagrin, he bites.
So, off to the market we go, hunters on the prowl for any and every kind of meat available to man (except fish ... he won't eat anything that swims, either). And because I plan on maintaining the "healthy" version of the diet, I get some yummy fresh veggies and fruits. Yes, I know they have carbs. I don't care.
Two days later, the house smells like fats, oils, and meat. If I never see another pork rind again, I will be just fine. I literally had a salad for dessert because my mouth was ... oily. I'm grossing out.
Moral of the story: God made carbs for a reason.
And the epilogue: He can't possibly last three months.
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