One of these things is not like the other...

Who remembers the Sesame Street song with these lyrics?

"One of these things is not like the other, one of these things just doesn't belong"

That's what I've been singing lately as I try to accept my new of eating.

Alas, all those years of shoving pasta, bread, pastries, chips (and anything else remotely resembling carbs) into my cake hole has caught up with me.

And, as a result, the good doctor has sentenced me to a life of low carb.  I know, it sucks, right?

I'm southern.  We reek of carbs.

Dumplings, cornbread, cobblers and casseroles are our way of life.  Just today as I sat down for Sunday dinner at Mama's, the table prided itself with pineapple casserole (yes, it sounds weird, but is delicious!), pasta salad, cheesy rice, and mashed potatoes.

Of course, carbs aren't just privy to the South. A dear Italian friend from NY, who is an amazing cook, slathers her fair share of carbs on the supper table as well:)

So the song lyrics seem appropriate, considering it is hard to both live in the south and be expected to live low carb.

I've been adjusting as best as I know how and, to be honest, I do feel better.  I have more energy and am less likely to doze off in the middle of the afternoon now. Which is a plus, especially when you are responsible for small children.

I cheat, probably a little more than I should, but I am trying to find a variety of recipes so I don't get bored with the eggs, salads and chicken breast I've been choking down...

This is a big deal for me.  I often kid with The Hubs that I am one bad decision away from being the compulsive Mt. Dew chugging, cigarette smoking, cheese doodle stuffing redneck I was born to be.  Not that there's anything wrong that!

So, in the mean time, I half-heartedly nibble my carrots and eagerly await my "cheat days".