God has a dog, and it just puked manna into your saucepan.

Since I have eaten enough fast food in the past six months to fill a barge, I’ve gained a bit more poundage than can probably be deemed healthy for my frame.  After the shock on the doctor’s scale, I decided to hop on America’s Chronic Diet train for a little while.  My psyche nurse had given me the contact info for a wellness program that helps People Like Me achieve wellness through diet and exercise, so I gave them a call.  The Wellness People were very supportive in my efforts to achieve wellness.  They set me up with an eating plan, measured out down to the last little crumb of Slim Fast Snack Bar, and sent me some recipe cards for dinners that were “so quick, so low-cal, SO delicious!

Behold delicious.

Apparently, “achieving wellness” translates into “poisoning yourself dead”.

I am not the sort of girl who makes things out of Hamburger Helper.  But these are desperate times, and the Wellness People told me to eat Hamburger Helper.  Hey, this doesn’t smell too bad, I thought, squinting over the bubbling cauldron of beige-colored goodness.  Yeah, this is going to be great!  Maybe I’ve been too hard on Hamburger Helper, all these years.  I tried a bite.  It tasted like dogfood with puke mixed in.

Luckily, when you’re as ravenous as I am after dieting for three days, kibble vomit is like water in the desert.  That must be their trick.  Try it: eat 1500 calories a day for three days.  Come back to this blog, and then look again at the above photo of regurgitated Purina.  You’ll see.  Suddenly, the Barf Chow is looking mighty tasty.  Hamburger Helper is now your manna from Heaven.


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