Life on the Beach

It is now Day Eighteen on the Beach. The South Beach Diet, that is. I'm sort of embarrassed to admit that I'm on the South Beach Diet, more because I have an innate fear and distrust of the word DIET. But my doctor put me on the Beach due to my insulin resistance and I must say, life on the beach is good.

I am no longer up for the part of Ali the Beached Whale because the bloat is gone from my bod.

I am no longer being considered for the title of Ali the Drive Thru Queen because my love affair with fat has come to an end.

I AM however, a LOSER of the most wonderful kind ... my poor old bod has finally begun to loosen it's death grip (and I mean that literally) on my fat and has begun to spend it, albeit thriftily. I have now lost four whole pounds. Don't laugh! Four pounds of fat lost is worth it's weight in gold, my friend. Especially after six weeks of Weight Watchers and not a single pound lost, these four pounds prove *gasp* that the doctor was right.

Insulin was the culprit of my baleful bloating. Insulin the cause of my inexplicable fast food cravings. Bad insulin, bad!

I am now a happy Good Carb kind o' gal. My body is breathing easier and so am I, knowing I have dodged a bullet and life, like I said, on the Beach ain't so bad. I'll be here for, well, forever, according to the doc, so it's a good thing I like it! Come on down and visit me some time ... the weather's fine.