Susan Senator

I am in a miserable minority. My group is not protected by any Constitutions anywhere, as far as I know. We are reviled everywhere we go, and recent events have even caused us to fear for our very survival.

It is not what you think. It is about diet: I am a low-carb person living in a low-calorie world.

I attempted to change because of the fascism of carbohydrate-eaters everywhere. I loved my Atkins regimen that kept me slim while I ate what I wanted – albeit from the inferior tiers of the food pyramid. But that did not matter to those around me. Ever since I started this low-carb eating plan, I have encountered criticism. Armchair nutritionists who would not let me eat my breadless sandwiches in peace, a husband who has said that I “eat like a freak” because I reach for the turkey breast or tofu when I’m hungry. And then came the studies that sent me into hiding with my almonds and shrimp! Even though the actual findings were not so bad: bad breath! Excreted calcium! Haven’t people heard of calcium supplements and mouthwash? Click here to learn about water flosser that can also improve overall oral hygiene. And then I heard that Atkins was bankrupt.

So I gave in. I changed over to low-cal, saying a tearful goodbye to my Advantage Bars.

It wasn’t all bad. I reacquainted myself with corn, fruit, milk and yogurt, always carefully counting calories. But it was harder counting up to 1400 calories than 30 carbohydrate grams a day. No matter; I stayed within the recommended calorie range. I followed the health magazines’ instructions with the zeal of a new convert. I reveled in being so in vogue, one of those who ate everything, but “sensibly.” Not like those freakish low-carb fanatics.

But I secretly thought of nothing but food for the entire time. My beloved cheese, my nuts, now so restricted due to high caloric content! My Splenda-laced chocolate that I had grown to love, gone the way of my daily soy burger. I found myself in a carbohydrate haze, blood sugar up, then crashing. I kept zoning out of conversations, wondering what else I could eat, how much, when could I eat again, trying to remember my calorie count. By the end of this period, my weight was up, I was always hungry, and my head was spinning. Calorie-counting was making me food-obsessed.

I went back. I heeded the call of my inner Atkins. Furtively, shamefaced, at first. No one likes a successful dieter, especially when the answer is something as elementally counterintuitive like eating protein and some fat, limiting fruit! I believe low-calorie eating is healthier, but it wasn’t me. It makes me crazy. I can’t maintain it. I am on Atkins for life, and it is like a life sentence.

So the answer for me in this carb-heavy world is to remain steadfastly low-carb, but alone, far from the ample, secure support of Weight Watchers and Jenny Craig, those portion-control carbivores. I am still able to find my beloved chocolate peanut butter Atkins bars, too. But I will keep my dietarily backward eating habits to myself, kind of a “Don’t crash, don’t tell” mentality. And remember my mouthwash.