Ladies first?

I had the privilege to grow up in a large extended family.  My mama had 8 brothers and sisters and my daddy had 11 siblings.

I was rich in cousins, aunts and uncles to say the least.  Most of my treasured childhood memories revolve around time spent at Grandma's house with my cousins.

Of these memories, I would bet a great deal took place on Sundays.  Sunday dinners (that's the lunch meal in the South--evening meal is supper, FYI) have long been a tradition in my family for as long as I can remember.

Every Sunday after church, most of my extended family still meets at the "homeplace", now my Mama and Daddy's house (they bought and moved into Grandma's house once she passed), for lunch.

The house is small (1000 sq feet?) but the family is large!  Somehow, we manage to feed and entertain roughly 20 people every Sunday on a feast of your favorite country foods: collards, potato salad, butter beans, casseroles, ham, mashed potatoes, chicken, string beans, etc.

And, in old school fashioned, the men still eat first.

Yes, you read that right.

In 2013, the men are still served first at my Mama's house on Sundays.

Now that's some deep rooted tradition.

There is a small part of me that balks at such practices--it's outdated and unnecessary now, but I also treasure it, because it was started by my Grandma Doris, who always made sure her "boys" were well fed, not necessarily on Sundays, but before working the fields, while the women would stay and work at home.

The matriarchs of my family, my Mama and Aunt Kay, continue with this practice and who am I to stop them???

They do most of the cooking:)

The men could do a dish or two every now and then though....I'm sure there would be no complaints there...

Until then, I wait my turn, look through the sales papers and catch up on the latest family happenings. Hurry up, fellows, and don't eat all the collards!

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".