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Skipping your diet

Pick of the Bunch

Skipping your diet & Bean regrets
by Phun Hee

THE PERFECT DIET

Concerned about his weight, a large Irishman goes to his doctor for some advice. The doctor recommends a diet: “I want you to eat vegetables and grains for two days, then skip a day, and keep repeating this procedure through the coming month. Next time I see you, you should’ve lost at least five kilos.”

When the man returns, the doctor is shocked: his patient has lost more than 20kgs!

“That’s amazing!” claims the doctor. “Did you follow my instructions carefully?”

The Irishman nodded. “I’ll tell you though, I thought I was going to drop dead that third day.”

“From hunger, you mean?”

“No, from skipping!”


BEAN THERE DONE THAT

During lunch at work last week, I ate a large serving of baked beans. (I knew I shouldn’t, but they’re one of my favourite quick-snacks.) When I got home, my husband seemed excited to see me and exclaimed delightedly: “Darling, I have a surprise for dinner tonight.” He then blindfolded me and led me to my chair at the dinner table. I took a seat, and just as he was about to remove my blindfold, the phone rang. He made me promise not to touch the blindfold until he returned, and went to answer the call.

The baked beans I’d consumed were beginning to affect me, and I could feel the pressure building. So while my husband was out of the room I seized the opportunity, shifted my weight and passed wind. It was louder than I intended, but thankfully hubby was deep in conversation in the other room. I took my napkin from my lap and fanned the air around me vigorously. Then, shifting to the other leg, I released some more pressure, fanning the air again and hoping the smell would not be noticed. 

Those naughty baked beans weren’t done with me yet. And for several more minutes, while keeping my ears tuned to the conversation in the other room, I went on passing wind and easing the pressure. I don’t think I’ve ever been so noisy before in my life, but ohh the relief! 

Eventually, the telephone farewells signalled the end of my freedom, so I quickly fanned the air a few more times, placed my napkin back on my lap, and folded my hands on it – feeling rather pleased with myself.

My face must’ve been the picture of innocence when my husband returned. He apologised for taking so long, and asked if I had peaked through the blindfold. I happily assured him I had not. At this point, he removed the blindfold … and 12 dinner guests seated around the table, with their hands to their noses, chorused: “Happy birthday!” 

I just wanted to die.

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