Just zip it -- I really don't want to hear about your diet

May 21, 2007|By Kevin Cowherd | Kevin Cowherd,Sun Columnist

Let me be blunt about something, and if this is too blunt and offends your delicate sensibilities, well, that's just too bad and you should get over it.

OK, here goes: I don't want to hear about your diet.

Diet stories are boring, OK?

And your diet story is boring, too.

So, just because it's May and you're trying to lose weight like everyone else so you don't look like a big tub of goo in a swimsuit this summer, don't think I want to hear about it.

Because I don't.

Oh, I know you think your diet story is different.

You think it's fascinating.

You lost a whole 6 pounds, or maybe 15 pounds, or 26 pounds, or whatever, and you think the whole world wants to hear about it.

You think everyone wants to know how you did it, what your big secret is.

Well, guess what?

They don't.

Especially not me.

The fact is, when you yammer on and on about your diet, about how much better you feel and how your energy level is higher and your clothes fit better and blah, blah, blah, you're doing nothing more than putting people to sleep.

You're like walking anesthesia.

But most people won't tell you that.

They're too polite.

But I'm not.

I'm telling you flat out: I don't want to hear about your diet.

Here's another thing: I don't care if you did the Atkins diet or the South Beach Diet, the Zone diet or the New Beverly Hills Diet.

I don't care if you did NutriSystem, Jenny Craig, Weight Watchers or Medifast.

I don't care if you drank 15 glasses of water a day, or ate nothing but mangoes and kelp, or went the Jared Subway route with the 6-grams-of-fat-or-less sandwiches.

The bottom line is this: Unless you were chained to a radiator and held hostage by a homicidal maniac who starved you for six months, causing you to lose 70 pounds, and then you escaped by hurling yourself out a second-story window in the middle of the night after the homicidal maniac fell asleep and you stole the key to your leg irons, you have a boring diet story.


Just like all the other boring diet stories I've heard.

And I've heard a million of them, believe me.

So don't expect me to just sit there and listen to yours with this rapt expression on my face and murmur from time to time: "Really, it calls for that much spinach?" and "No snacking before bedtime - that must be hard!"

Besides, do you think you're the first person to ever go on a diet?

Well, you're not.

In fact, 40 million Americans will go on a diet this week alone.

OK, I just made up that figure.

The truth is, I don't know how many people are on diets.

Diet statistics are as boring as diet stories. Maybe more boring. Why don't we just say the whole country's on a diet and leave it at that?

Look, I'm trying to lose a few pounds myself by cutting out carbs and watching what I ... OK, did you see that?

Did you see what happened there?

I started talking about my diet, and right away your eyes started to close.

Yes, they did! I saw them!

It never fails. Blabbering on and on about your diet is like wrestling someone to the ground and emptying a bottle of Lunesta tablets down their throat.

Anyway, let me stress one more thing before I run out of space.

Not only don't I care about your diet, I don't care about the diets of famous people, either.

I don't care about Rosie O'Donnell's diet, or Oprah Win- frey's diet, or John Goodman's diet or Miguel Tejada's diet. Their diet stories are boring, too.

Tejada, instead of trying to lose weight, should try hitting a home run once in a while.

How much is he making this season, $10 mil? You make that kind of money, you can hire someone to go on a diet for you.

Not that I'd want to hear that story, either.


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