A French Diet and a Mexican Weekend

Once upon a time there were two Californians who committed to a masochistic French diet one week before Memorial Day. And while the temptations of Mexican taco stands and California barbecues weighed (no pun intended) heavily on my mind, my will power showed about as much give as my jeans did a week ago.

In fact, I am pleased to report, that in the past 7 days, yours truly has lost 4 greatly-loathed pounds. Ricardo, however, has lost his will to live.

To be honest, I was blown away by RP’s commitment to Dukan. In fact, he texted me one afternoon last week to say, “I’m having lunch in my car again. I don’t know how else to eat an entire rotisserie chicken.”

Visions of him sitting in his car going to town on a hot poultry carcass were delightful enough to get me through another day of meat, cottage cheese, and more meat.

Aside from the obvious challenge of turning our backs on the fruits, veggies and carbs we’d grown to love, doing Dukan was uneventful aside from the following points:

RP and I have fought twice in the past month—both during attack phase. Coincidence?

You’d be amazed how much oat bran can taste like desert when that glorious 1.5 tablespoons is your only link to the beyond-protein world.

It takes about 30 minutes and two hungry Prices to finish off an entire 32 oz container of Fage yogurt.

Whole Foods is the ultimate oasis for a Dukaner. When I unfold my mat for afternoon prayer, it’s gonna face the tofu bar.

Texts from your husband that would normally elicit shudders and gags seem highly appropriate under the circumstances: “Honey, I don’t poo anymore.” (the feeling was mutual)

In hindsight, Dr. Atkins (RIP) seems like kind of a sissy.

Never fear, these issues didn’t keep a couple of Prices from creeping southward this weekend... and taking the kids (see photos). I crossed the border packing a healthy assortment of eggs, cottage cheese, yogurt and oat bran.

For RP, however, diet restrictions disappeared as quickly as a Mexican drug smuggler once we crossed the border.

That boy loves his tacos.
And his tortillas.
And his postres.
And his esposa.