Confessions of a Carb Queen by Susan Blech & Caroline Bock

Author:Susan Blech & Caroline Bock
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rodale
Published: 2008-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Why I Crave Tabasco Sauce

I crave Tabasco sauce because I crave salt. And I’ve learned that salt makes me crave more—more of everything. It’s a vicious cycle.

The bottom line here is that salt makes me crave. I’ve greatly reduced my intake and am thinner and healthier. I aim for between 500 and 1,000 milligrams of sodium a day. If I don’t limit my intake of it, I feel it in my ankles first, and I see it on the scale within 24 hours. Yet, I’ll admit, my lips still burn and my throat tightens at the thought of Tabasco sauce, that red liquid fire.

Walking with David is part of my daily rhythm during those first few weeks. But by the end of January, I was already able to take more steps than he could. Now, I start to go on longer and longer treks, and he can’t. Some mornings, though, I still walk with him down and back the dead-end block.

We gossip about the characters at the Clinic. In the dining room, they call him the Mayor of the Clinic because he knows all the ins and outs, because he’s smart, well read, and articulate, and because every community needs a leader. But he’s getting cocky. He’s telling everyone what to eat. If anybody eats anything off the program, he’ll go right up to him or her and say so.

“David, you have to chill out. You haven’t been home yet,” I say, carefully taking another step forward.

“I’m just trying to help people.”

“When you keep the weight off for a couple of years, you can help people.”

“I’m going to keep this weight off, no problem.”

“I hope so, Davey-baby,” I laugh and take another determined step. A part of me wishes that I had his cockiness or confidence.

We talk about the cost of things. Neither of us have much money compared with the others at the Clinic. He’s a mortician. He works for a funeral home back home. He doesn’t give details. He’s very secretive about details, and I don’t press him. I know what it’s like to have hidden parts of yourself, to keep whole sections of your life from family and friends, to feel scared or ashamed, to wish that you were someone else. If David is practicing being someone else, that’s okay with me.

One freezing February morning, Gina and I decide that David needs a coat that fits him properly. We go to the local thrift store and buy him a hound’s-tooth coat with black fake fur around the collar, an old gentleman’s type of coat. After lunch, we bring it to him, and he hugs it to himself. The coat buttons up over his barrel chest. It fits him perfectly.

The next morning, I parade with him in this very dapper coat. He walks with his hands in his pockets, debonair, his step lighter and more confident.

“It’s a wonderful coat, Susan.”

“You look amazing in it.”

“It’s so warm,” he says, putting his hands in his pocket. He says quietly, “It makes me feel special.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.