Atkins or Fadkins Story Part 1 (not my work)
Part I – Macronutrients and Energy
Two friends of yours, Janine and Mitchell, join you at lunch. During your conversation, Janine comments on Mitchell’s choice of food: a small bowl of cottage cheese, a chicken salad with vinegar and oil dressing, and a glass of ice water.
“What, are you on some kind of a health kick?” Janine asks, as she plows her way through a cheeseburger and a basket of fries. “First jogging every morning, now rabbit food?”
“It’s this new diet I’m trying,” Mitchell says. “Someone told me it’s really good. And I thought I could lose some weight.”
“From where?” Janine asks, looking Mitchell up and down. As you look at your friend, you have to agree with Janine: tall, lanky Mitchell doesn’t look like he has an ounce of spare fat on him.
“Wait a minute,” Janine says, “You’re not on that Fadkins diet, are you? That diet where you eat all protein and no carbs?”
“Yeah, I am,” Mitchell says, defensively. “I hear it’s really good. Someone my brother knows lost ten pounds in like a month.”
“Don’t you know those high-protein diets are bad for you?” Janine says, taking another sip of her milkshake. “If you eat way too much protein and not enough carbs you can ruin your kidneys forever because of all the nitrogen you have to process breaking down the protein,” Janine says. “Haven’t you heard that in the old days, the mountain men used to get really sick and sometimes die if they had nothing to eat but venison and rabbits and lean meat like that? And there was some high-protein, low-carb, no-fat diet back in the ’s or ’s or something that people were dying from. Besides, if your brain doesn’t get carbs—well, glucose, anyway—you get really cranky. You have to have enough carbs.”
“Well, yeah,” Mitchell says, “that’s if you only eat lean protein and nothing else. But this diet lets you have fat, and you burn that for energy so you don’t get problems like the mountain men had. See,” Mitchell goes on, before Janine can interrupt him, “the thing is,
Two friends of yours, Janine and Mitchell, join you at lunch. During your conversation, Janine comments on Mitchell’s choice of food: a small bowl of cottage cheese, a chicken salad with vinegar and oil dressing, and a glass of ice water.
“What, are you on some kind of a health kick?” Janine asks, as she plows her way through a cheeseburger and a basket of fries. “First jogging every morning, now rabbit food?”
“It’s this new diet I’m trying,” Mitchell says. “Someone told me it’s really good. And I thought I could lose some weight.”
“From where?” Janine asks, looking Mitchell up and down. As you look at your friend, you have to agree with Janine: tall, lanky Mitchell doesn’t look like he has an ounce of spare fat on him.
“Wait a minute,” Janine says, “You’re not on that Fadkins diet, are you? That diet where you eat all protein and no carbs?”
“Yeah, I am,” Mitchell says, defensively. “I hear it’s really good. Someone my brother knows lost ten pounds in like a month.”
“Don’t you know those high-protein diets are bad for you?” Janine says, taking another sip of her milkshake. “If you eat way too much protein and not enough carbs you can ruin your kidneys forever because of all the nitrogen you have to process breaking down the protein,” Janine says. “Haven’t you heard that in the old days, the mountain men used to get really sick and sometimes die if they had nothing to eat but venison and rabbits and lean meat like that? And there was some high-protein, low-carb, no-fat diet back in the ’s or ’s or something that people were dying from. Besides, if your brain doesn’t get carbs—well, glucose, anyway—you get really cranky. You have to have enough carbs.”
“Well, yeah,” Mitchell says, “that’s if you only eat lean protein and nothing else. But this diet lets you have fat, and you burn that for energy so you don’t get problems like the mountain men had. See,” Mitchell goes on, before Janine can interrupt him, “the thing is,