I’ve been to Giza. I’ve seen the pyramids. This looks more like a fruit and veggie pizza with a milk chaser. Oh it’s pretty and all but calling this a pyramid is like calling the Grand Canyon a soccer field. It’s not even close.
I liked the old pyramid. It was simple and easy to remember. It didn’t require a masters degree in nutrition. It was like a good friend, generous and always there.
I spent my time near the ground where I had firm footing and lots of grainy choices. I was assured by having anywhere from 6-11 servings of pasta and cereal I was getting a balanced diet.
I love pasta.
I counted French Fries as a veggie. Hey, if it comes out of the ground it’s got to be a veggie, right? If a potato is a fruit, I’m a stringbean.
What I missed about the whole French Fry/Veggie business is the cooking process. I stayed so close to the ground I couldn’t see that little point on top. The one that says, “Use fats, oils, and sweets sparingly.”
When you’re faced with a slice of four layer chocolate cake it’s nearly impossible to recall such an important fact. I love chocolate.
I like lettuce and tomato but they won’t do what a good piece of Red Velvet cake will do.
So over the years my belt kept trying to tell me I was working the pyramid wrong. My bread basket was turning into a food pantry. And then in 2002 I quit smoking and within months I was up fifty pounds. I had a beer belly built with pasta and pie.
To quote a fitness guru of years past I finally decided to “Stop the Madness!”
I’ve been doing a steady daily diet of fruits, veggies and protein. Since the beginning of October I’m down nearly forty pounds.
I miss pasta and chocolate cake. I don’t miss the pounds. I wish the new food pyramid did not look like a pizza. I wish grapefruit tasted like Red Velvet cake. I miss Red Velvet cake. Goodbye old friend.