As part of a general lifestyle change I began earlier this year, I’ve been counting calories. It sucks. Not because it isn’t working, or because I’m having a hard time with it; between dieting and working out I’ve lost about thirty pounds in three months while putting on a lot of muscle mass in the process. What I hate about it is that it’s so boring. It doesn’t have a name, for example. Atkins, South Beach, The Zone; they all seem so modern. “Hi, I’m Science and I’m here to help,” that sort of thing. Not counting calories. It’s the stone wheel of the diet world.
It’s also not very masculine. The great thing about the low-carb type diets is that when you go out with friends, you can be macho and order the 48 ounce T-bone if you want to. No one suspects its part of your “diet.” Not so with calorie counting. Any time you start asking whether or not the “dressing” is fat free, you just know the guys are going to be impressed. So impressed, in fact, that they’ll probably keep bringing it up the rest of the night, with some congratulatory arm punches thrown in for good measure.
The completely unrelated image above is a fridge magnet for sale at AllPosters.com
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