In an effort to contain the Bridget Jonesian fat splurging out from our hips and sides, MP and I decided to begin the French Women Don't Get Fat diet, which kicks off with two days of nothing but leek soup. We had planned on making this a weekend thing, but put it off this past weekend, and didn't want to do it this coming weekend (GCC HOMECOMING!!!), and the weekend following is too far away, so we decided to do it yesterday and today.
When Sunday Dinner lasted too late into the night for us to purchase the leeks then, we decided that MP should go to Meijer at 7 a.m. on Monday and then come to my apartment armed with leeks to make the soup.
And she did it. (We do nothing by halves, we two.) We made a gargantuan pot of boiled leeks (throwing in thyme and oregano for some flavor), split it in half, and went about our day. I drove to work with an enormous pot of soup snuggled at the bottom of the car, which infused the office with a strong smell of onions as it sat looking bizarre atop the filing cabinets. I spent the morning gulping ladlefuls of leek broth to pacify my screaming stomach, and the afternoon hating leeks and avoiding them by drinking Coke. I became giddy, dizzy, and half-delusional. Email conversations with MP found her in the same state.
My determination lasted exactly until I got home from work, when I dumped the soup in the yard and went to Fiddler's for a steak sandwich.
It just goes to show that I'm not French (and that one should never panic about splurging fat when one is undergoing the camel-syle water storage of PMS). So I'm doing what I did two years ago and reinstilling the Peanut Butter Diet.
1 comment:
Okay this? Is hilarious and awesome.
Lately, I've gone mostly the exercise route, but this time, I took measurements as well as weighing myself. I haven't lost a pound in like three months, but I've dropped a couple inches each off my waist and hips. And I managed to avoid leek soup by dumb luck.
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