Wednesday, 31 August 2016

Diets.

Everyone she knows
[Or at least it seems that way]
Is on
a
diet.
 
It seems to be
all
they
talk
about.
 
Oh, are you on Atkins? I've gone Paleo. She's high carb. He's on the shakes. She's on the diet where you don't eat at all until you feel like you're about to pass out, then you eat a cube of cheese.
 
Diets.
Diets.
Diets.
 
When she hears it
Or sees it
She feels
like
she should be
on a diet
too.
 
She should.
She should.
She should.
 
So she starts
looking for
things
to
cut.
 
Her head says, Yourself.
 
She tries to ignore that.
Tries.
Fails.
But tries.
 
So then she wonders,
What's the difference
between them
and
me?
How come they
can diet
and I
can't?
 
She doesn't know how to diet.
She never has.
Never could.

She fails by breakfast.
Grapefruit is disgusting, by the way.
And she doesn't eat eggs.
She doesn't eat tuna.
Or chicken breasts.
Or fish.
Or anything that you eat on a diet at all.
 
Her dietician
[ha]
Says,
You don't eat enough carbs.
Which is ludicrous
because
all she eats
are
carbs.
 
Cue the thought, Is butter a carb?
No, brain.
No.
 
She eats bananas
carbs
Apples
carbs
Strawberries
carbs
Bread
carbs
Muesli
carbs
Cookies
carbs
Wraps
carbs
Vegetables
carbs
And endless endless endless
bowls
of
pump
kin
soup.
 
Carbs.
Carbs.
Carbs.
 
She is not on a diet
She does not limit her carbs
She does not live on broccoli and lettuce and pickles and diet coke
[She's a coke zero girl, after all]
But maybe
Maybe
Maybe
She should.