I’ll never eat kale again

By SUSAN WELCH
Posted 5/27/22

Diets are a curious thing. Sure, losing weight can improve the overall health of anyone, but sometimes the method of getting there can bring out man’s most primitive instincts.

It was the …

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I’ll never eat kale again

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Diets are a curious thing. Sure, losing weight can improve the overall health of anyone, but sometimes the method of getting there can bring out man’s most primitive instincts.

It was the middle of the second week of the lauded Scarsdale Diet, the go-to diet of the 1970s invented by Dr. Herman Tarnower who was later killed by his lover (motivated no doubt by being on the diet for two weeks).

According to the diet, you could eat all of the protein you wanted, a whole chicken, a side of beef, anything, but ne’er a carbohydrate could ever pass your lips for a solid two weeks.

My husband, a pilot who was required to pass a physical every year in order to remain on flying status, suggested that “we” try the diet because it guaranteed that you would lose 20 pounds in two weeks. And, as he always waited until the last minute to get in shape for his physical, this seemed like the only solution to the problem.

I had to go on the diet too, of course, because it would be too painful for him to sit there and watch me eat a baked potato with sour cream while he dined on skinless chicken and kale.

The first week wasn’t too bad. Our menus for each day were dictated by the diet. Monday it was all the baked chicken you could eat plus steamed cabbage. Tuesday you could eat lamb chops, as many as you wanted, and kale. Wednesday was poached eggs and more steamed cabbage. The pounds literally fell off and our spirits were high.

That second week, I could tell we were both beginning to get a little agitated. I remember it was a Tuesday night and lamb chops and kale were again on the menu. I got to the commissary on base early so that I could pick out the best- looking lamb chops available. There were four to a package, two big, juicy looking lamb chops and two scrawny ones. As they were expensive, I only bought one package.

When I placed the lamb chops on the table that night, I noticed my husband forked the biggest lamb chops before I even had a chance to sit down.

“You always take the biggest lamb chops!” I yelled.

He didn’t say anything, just looked at me with wild eyes, hunched over his plate as if I was going to steal one of the chops, and growled like a Weimaraner.

“Let’s go get a pizza,” I said. We did and I can’t remember a time when mozzarella ever tasted so good.

To this day, I never pass a head of kale or a lamp chop in the supermarket that I don’t have flashbacks.

Susan Welch lives in Dunn. She may be reached at msmckwelch44@aol.com .

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