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New game show idea: “Home Remedy Survivor”. Viewers can play along at home, like I did as a kid. My father, concoctor of the vilest elixirs ever manufactured without a Hazmat suit, would be the host. A man of the cloth by trade, I am living proof that he missed his true calling. According to Dr. Evil, every disease known to mankind should only be treated with something that induces vomiting.
“Was that a sniffle?” he asked my brother and me, in raptures, every fall when the wind kicked up.
“No. Just a tickle.”
“That’s how it always starts. I’ve got just the thing,” he said, mixing baking soda, Alka-Seltzer (“tastes just like 7-Up,” he insisted), cod liver oil and God knows what else. According to him, chicken noodle soup was for sissies.
After surviving childhood, and my father’s torturous delights, I didn’t need convincing that Frankenstein lives. Trying to understand it is futile. Perhaps it was because he played with mercury as a child. Perhaps it was because his mother dropped him on his head. He swears that his mother (my grandmother) was even more twisted.
For girls (I am told), childhood illnesses are less traumatic, but no less confusing.
“Just put some lipstick on and you’ll be fine,” my friend’s mom told her as a child when she had a migraine, strep throat or a slight touch of the Bubonic Plague. A little Revlon #725 and life was good.
Sadly, my father never had a daughter to practice “alternative medicine” on.
Now, when my kids catch something, my father’s voice reverberates in my head, but, despite my contaminated bloodline, the home remedy madness stopped with me. I do not torture my children with over-the-counter placebos or therapeutic cosmetics.
However, perhaps due to my genetic footprint, I have manufactured a wonder cure of
my own: “The Manly Man’s Diet.”
Note: Before trying this, consult your physician (not my father).
Step 1: Weigh yourself
Step 2: Catch a nasty, 2-week cold-flu bug – the nastier, the better. If contracting said disease is problematic, deprive yourself of sleep, then volunteer for Kleenex patrol at the elementary school.
Step 3: Survive the disease (very important). Consume only water and soup, allowing the disease to run its course.
Step 4: Weigh in again. With any luck, you should have dropped five or six pounds already.
Step 5: Leverage the full power of your itty-bitty tummy. Eat as little as possible, consuming only the following — water (six to eight glasses a day), espresso (no cream), tea (any kind), grapes, apples, bananas, spinach salads (with cranberries, almonds and gorgonzola cheese), carrots and ranch dressing (Hidden Valley Ranch
Dressing in the packets that you mix is best), choice of soup (non-creamy) and – stealing a page from Nutrisystem – “a sensible dinner” … like a little chicken (including “hot thighs” …wings are too expensive), steamed rice, fish.
Lay off the red meat and deep-fat-fried food. Lose the carbonated or sugary beverages. If, inadvertently, you bump into a pizza or tiramisu, don’t deny yourself, but only eat half as much as you would like. When temptation seizes you, punish a wad of chewing gum.
Step 6: Weigh in again. Embrace the new you.
Testimonial: After six weeks on “The Manly Man’s Diet,” the new me is 13 pounds lighter. I am eating less than ever. I am not grumpy, not hungry. Furthermore, I started exercising a couple of weeks ago – mostly for commercial reasons (to try to hit the Oprah-Leno radar). If it works, I’ll be sharing my dieting secrets on daytime TV, cranking out an exercise video and peddling a meal plan.
Only a few housekeeping issues before my 10 minutes in the spotlight: one shot of Botox, a lasik procedure, some blond highlights, 10 additional pounds of muscle and a new wardrobe … then, even on TV, I won’t look fat.
If I decide to drop another five pounds, I have an ace in the hole: Dr. Evil’s nauseating home remedy potion – a last resort to be sure … one that I will only employing after applying fire-engine red Revlon lipstick and updating my final will and testament.
“Was that a sniffle?” he asked my brother and me, in raptures, every fall when the wind kicked up.
“No. Just a tickle.”
“That’s how it always starts. I’ve got just the thing,” he said, mixing baking soda, Alka-Seltzer (“tastes just like 7-Up,” he insisted), cod liver oil and God knows what else. According to him, chicken noodle soup was for sissies.
After surviving childhood, and my father’s torturous delights, I didn’t need convincing that Frankenstein lives. Trying to understand it is futile. Perhaps it was because he played with mercury as a child. Perhaps it was because his mother dropped him on his head. He swears that his mother (my grandmother) was even more twisted.
For girls (I am told), childhood illnesses are less traumatic, but no less confusing.
“Just put some lipstick on and you’ll be fine,” my friend’s mom told her as a child when she had a migraine, strep throat or a slight touch of the Bubonic Plague. A little Revlon #725 and life was good.
Sadly, my father never had a daughter to practice “alternative medicine” on.
Now, when my kids catch something, my father’s voice reverberates in my head, but, despite my contaminated bloodline, the home remedy madness stopped with me. I do not torture my children with over-the-counter placebos or therapeutic cosmetics.
However, perhaps due to my genetic footprint, I have manufactured a wonder cure of
my own: “The Manly Man’s Diet.”
Note: Before trying this, consult your physician (not my father).
Step 1: Weigh yourself
Step 2: Catch a nasty, 2-week cold-flu bug – the nastier, the better. If contracting said disease is problematic, deprive yourself of sleep, then volunteer for Kleenex patrol at the elementary school.
Step 3: Survive the disease (very important). Consume only water and soup, allowing the disease to run its course.
Step 4: Weigh in again. With any luck, you should have dropped five or six pounds already.
Step 5: Leverage the full power of your itty-bitty tummy. Eat as little as possible, consuming only the following — water (six to eight glasses a day), espresso (no cream), tea (any kind), grapes, apples, bananas, spinach salads (with cranberries, almonds and gorgonzola cheese), carrots and ranch dressing (Hidden Valley Ranch
Dressing in the packets that you mix is best), choice of soup (non-creamy) and – stealing a page from Nutrisystem – “a sensible dinner” … like a little chicken (including “hot thighs” …wings are too expensive), steamed rice, fish.
Lay off the red meat and deep-fat-fried food. Lose the carbonated or sugary beverages. If, inadvertently, you bump into a pizza or tiramisu, don’t deny yourself, but only eat half as much as you would like. When temptation seizes you, punish a wad of chewing gum.
Step 6: Weigh in again. Embrace the new you.
Testimonial: After six weeks on “The Manly Man’s Diet,” the new me is 13 pounds lighter. I am eating less than ever. I am not grumpy, not hungry. Furthermore, I started exercising a couple of weeks ago – mostly for commercial reasons (to try to hit the Oprah-Leno radar). If it works, I’ll be sharing my dieting secrets on daytime TV, cranking out an exercise video and peddling a meal plan.
Only a few housekeeping issues before my 10 minutes in the spotlight: one shot of Botox, a lasik procedure, some blond highlights, 10 additional pounds of muscle and a new wardrobe … then, even on TV, I won’t look fat.
If I decide to drop another five pounds, I have an ace in the hole: Dr. Evil’s nauseating home remedy potion – a last resort to be sure … one that I will only employing after applying fire-engine red Revlon lipstick and updating my final will and testament.
