It Doesn’t Work… I Promise!
I’ve been on the Michael Phelps diet. It was all anyone was talking about during the Olympics… so I figured, “Hey, the old bod could use a boost, a jolt to the system and what the hey, I’m on holidays, after all. Relaxed. What better time to implement a new diet regimen?” I mean, look at the guy… who wouldn’t want to have a body like Michael Phelps? The female equivalent, of course.
And what better place to implement new diet plan than at the beach. Rehoboth Beach, Delaware… home to Grotto’s Pizza. And more Grotto’s Pizza. Thrasher’s Fries. Nicola’s nicobolis. Wings To Go. Chicken Ed’s. And, well, more Grotto’s. Oh, and The Fractured Prune… home-made, hand-dipped, fresh-to-order donuts! Did I mention Rehoboth beach is home to Grotto’s Pizza?
Oh, yes. I embraced this new diet with my heart and soul… all 12,000 calories a day of it. Fast tracking to cut biceps, ripped abs and nothing but sinew for thighs.
And what do I have to show for two weeks of consumption a la Michael Phelps? In short… Fattened. Ass.
Upon further research, I see I overlooked the small fact that I must also simultaneously implement the 5-hour-a-day, six-day-a-week exercise regimen. Shit…
