Yummy

     Pocahontas is my best friend and here’s part of the reason why: distance means nothing.  After the military moved her husband hundreds of miles away, we continued our friendship as though nothing had happened.  We talked on the phone every single day.  We would wait until our husbands and daughters had gone to bed and watch TV together, over the phone.  Yes, it’s odd, but it worked.  We could laugh at the same points or say, “Did you see that dress she’s got on?” and the other would answer, “You mean that muu muu made from a shower curtain?”  It was awesome. 

     Well, despite our best efforts to work out to the exercise DVD’s we mailed back and forth, neither one of us could drop those pesky 5, 10, 75 pounds we hated.  So, we decided we would try a diet together.  Hey, it worked for TV shows, why not a diet, huh?!  We had seen a sort-of “diet” advertised on a cereal commercial.  It seemed simple enough: a bowl of cereal for breakfast, a bowl of cereal for lunch, and a healthy dinner.  Neither one of us ever ate much breakfast so forcing ourselves to eat something in the mornings was going to be a big change.  I decided to start on a Monday and Pocahontas was going to start on Tuesday.  This was going to be GREAT!!

     I got up Monday morning, fixed little Buttercup a bite to eat, and then poured myself a bowl of cereal.  Ignoring the aversion I have to food before 10 am, I decided to dive in and enjoy.  It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be and I actually liked the cereal.  I cleaned up our few dishes and went on with my day.  Within two hours, I was absolutely, positively, hand-shaking, head-aching, stark raving RAVENOUS.  I had not experienced hunger like that since Buttercup was born.  I decided to eat an “early lunch” and have another bowl of cereal.  I was so hungry, that little measured bowl of cereal could be likened to putting out a forest fire with a plant mister.  But I was willing to suffer for my figure.  Another two hours ticked by and I was so insanely hungry, I gave up.  And it was almost noon.   

     It was the shortest diet on record.   

     I called Pocahontas.  Through the muffled chewing noises of a hastily inhaled double patty bacon gouda burger (kidding … sort of), I tried to warn her of the sheer intensity of starvation this miraculous cereal diet caused.  “Bertha?  Is that you hon?  I can’t understand a word you’re trying to say through the chewing.  Wait, doesn’t cereal crunch?”  I finally swallowed, “Yes, it crunched under my feet as I threw the box to the floor and told Buttercup we were starting a new dance fad.  Save yourself, Poc!  Do not try this miraculous cereal diet!  You will starve in ways you didn’t know existed!”  She said, “Well, I’ll have to give it a try and let you know what happens.  I think you’re doing this so I’ll stay fat and you’ll be my skinny friend who can’t shut up about her miraculous cereal diet.”  Shocked at her insinuation, I chewed through another bite.  “You can’t be serious.  This is a dire warning!”

     I went to bed that night and dreamed of being locked in a prison cell with my daily ration of 3 cereal flakes.  Only this time, the flakes were laughing at me as I cried and tried to remember my name through the pangs of starvation and low-blood-sugar-induced amnesia.  I slowly got out of bed in the morning, made myself a poached egg with toast and skim milk because there was no way I was going to experience what I had endured the day before.  Around noon, I was in the middle of scrubbing the kitchen floor when the phone rang.  “Grizzly Residence,” I answered.  “Hrumph merk seedet mant phranny!”  I paused, “Pocahontas?  Is that you hon?  I can’t understand a word you’re trying to say through the chewing.  Did you say something about a fanny?”  After a long swig of a drink and several loud swallows, Pocahontas came through loud and clear, “I said ’Miracle cereal diet my Great Aunt Fanny!’  I’ve never been this freakin’ hungry In.  My.  Life.”   Yeah, it was about noon.  Crisis time.  “So,” I said gently, “What are you eating?”  “Frubbr shee inbromee quark shys fur ned.” 

     Sounds delicious.

  

© Bertha Grizzly 2011.  All Rights Reserved.  No duplication or distribution.