Has anyone besides me ever noticed that trying to get off carbs is like trying to get off crack?  Seriously, same thing.  I mean, I’m probably not going to turn tricks for a biscuit, but you know what I mean.  I get irritable when I stop eating carbs.  I think about nothing else besides pizza and potatoes and yummy yeast rolls. I tried to trade my oldest kid for a stack of pancakes.  I stared at a man’s sandwich so hard the other day that he actually got uncomfortable and moved to a different table, but I digress.

It makes me laugh that our solution to treating what is obviously a very serious addiction (I mean, the physiological response for people craving carbs is basically the same as people craving heroine) is to tell the poor fattie to suck it up and “be disciplined.”  They don’t need hard luck advice.  They probably need methadone.

And, did you ever notice how the people who think themselves so superior and “disciplined” are the small-boned, super fast metabolism, I-can-eat-anything-and-lose-weight types?  They could eat an entire yummy delicious heavenly boner-inducing pizza from Mellow Mushroom while smoking a cigarette and drinking a vat of full-calorie soda and not gain a pound.  It’s hardly fair.  But, feeling sorry for one’s self will not result in net weight loss.  So, in the end, I guess skinny Minnie was right.  Suck it up, fatty.