It’s not you, South Beach Diet. It’s me. Truly, it’s not your fault, but we are going to have to part company now. I’m sure you realize we’ve been drifting apart for weeks now. This can’t come as a surprise. You’re a good diet. I’m sure you’ll be very good for someone else. You did your best for me. I lost weight. You lived up to your promises.<\/p>\n
I want more, though. I want to lose weight and feel great. I don’t feel great. I don’t know why. I’m sure it’s nothing you did, but I still feel it is time for me to go out in search of satisfaction elsewhere. I feel tired all the time. I hurt a lot. I feel depressed.<\/p>\n
I’m sure none of those things has anything to do with you, but I have to move on from you anyway just in case. I want to eat apples and potatoes with impunity. I have dreams about rice. Maybe I misunderstood you. Maybe I used and abused you. But I still suspect you dragged me down a little. My happy hormone levels need a boost. So now I have to choose between you and a giant bowl of grapes, and the grapes are looking pretty good.<\/p>\n
Sorry. I didn’t mean to lead you on like that. I thought you were the one for me.<\/p>\n
Today I am cooking black beans and rice. Yes, rice. You heard me. In deference to you, it will probably be whole grain rice, but don’t push me. I have some white Basmati in the cabinet I’ve been hiding from both of us.<\/p>\n