I have been seeing Sam Sifton for years in full view and…
Today marked two weeks on this life-less carb-less diet. Good news: I am 5.2 pounds down. Bad news: I am the shell of what was once an Italian woman.
I am very proud to be Italian. I love the food, the wine, the language and the vibrancy that defines the Italian persona. This diet has stripped me of the characteristics that make me Italian. I am list-less without food, my cooking mojo took a major hit and my food soul is in need of a miracle to bring it back to life. I miss my friends butter, wine and cheese. What is happening?
The nutritionist and I met for about an hour tonight and while I fancy myself quite the business negotiator, there was no budging this Mussolini of nutrition. No Pizza. No Wine. Limited carbs until the 27th. The 27th? I’ll be dead by then and my obit will read:
“Today we lost a vibrant member of the Italian community. I foodie, a blogger and a lover of all that is holy and tastes good. She was survived by her hangry husband and two children; her dog Izzy whimpering and wondering why there is no shredded mozzarella in her food bowl. “
So many of my readers tell me how they love to read this blog and how creative I am. Well when the nutritionist said I can make “pizza” on a plate by layering veggies and covering them in low fat cheese to simulate pizza, the creativity leapt from my body. I think I heard my soul cry.
None-the-less, I am a glutton…for punishment and will remain on this diet, thankfully somewhat enhanced, for the next three weeks. My dreams will continue to torment me. Dreams of homemade gnocchi with Pesto and focaccia with fresh herbs. Oh, and a lovely glass of wine. Some day……
Till then, I am off to count out 15 baby carrots and a glass of ice cold….water.