Sweating away the calories to “I’m Every Woman” isn’t the only way to shed pounds! As the tubby editors are about to discover, dieting is key to burning calories (also, laxatives and Adderall). We assigned each waddling wordsmith a mail-order diet, the results below.
If the Grail Knight was standing next to me when I selected Nutropia as my fat-off diet plan, he would have rested a creepy hand on my shoulder and whispered, “You have chosen...wisely.” Then he’d give me a peck on the cheek and we’d decide to get a summer share together out in the Hamptons and...oh, sorry, where was I? That’s right, the Nutropia diet system. In two words, it rocks. Every night around 3 A.M. the Nutropia fairy comes to my house and drops off a cooler filled with freshly prepared food right outside my door. I get breakfast, a snack, lunch, another snack and dinner. I have to admit I had my doubts about the taste, what with Nutropia never using additives, preservatives or refined sugars, but the food is actually really good. The folks at Nutropia call you and design a menu to fit your needs (unless your needs are bacon-wrapped bear fat) then every week you go online and choose your grub from a pretty huge menu selection. The only problem I’ve had is the time a raccoon noticed the cooler on my steps and decided to sample my eats in the middle of the night. I’ve since had my stoop electrified. Oh, guess I should have told the Nutropia delivery guy about that.
Upon receiving an enormous box in the mail last week, I couldn't help but be excited. What could it be? A new stereo? Three cases of bourbon? A mail-order pygmy manservant? But my hopes were quickly dashed. Inside was more dehydrated, freeze-dried, vacuum-sealed comestibles than I ever wanted to see in one place. My hobbit-like colleague Dan Bova dubbed it my "big box of depression": one month's worth of NutriSystem, the same program favored by obese NFL head coaches and the obese announcers who analyze them (I'm looking at you Boomer). Each portion was about a third of what I would normally eat for a meal, and the choices left something to be desired. A week into the diet, however, and I'm so fucking famished by the time I eat that even the most pathetic options taste delicious. Not that they're equal: the pasta dishes reign supreme in a Chef Boyardee kind of way, while the mac & cheese was more like soup. Today's lunch was pot roast with gravy and vegetables. It was an abomination, like something they served in coach in 1975. Still, I ate it all, slurping up every last drop of gravy with a spoon. I have to admit, the diet's growing on me at the same rate that my waist is shrinking on me. And that ain't bad.
I’m the only “loser” who isn’t on a specified meal plan. I figured I’d be better off controlling my own diet than having to eat freeze-dried seitan dropped off at my front door once a week. That being the case, this week I took inspiration from one of my heroes, Subway’s Jared. I was lucky enough to meet him a couple years back (see how comfortable and not-gay we look together?), and he taught me that kinda mediocre sandwiches actually <can> be sorta good for you. Thanks, buddy!
Greeting from St. Maarten, suckers. For my shed and shred plan, I went with eDiets, an awesome meal delivery service. They have great tasting food like turkey chili, blackened chicken and flatbead pizza. Unfortunately, I couldn't haul that stuff down here this week so I've had to go local. Still, I am dieting and by dieting I mean stuffing my fat cheeks with French baguettes, fried conch sandwiches and rum shots with Presidente beer chasers. Kisses.
As the planner of the competition, I assigned myself nothing but the best and most expensive in meal delivery. Every singly night, the nuKitchen ninja deposits his fresh, steamy bag of gourmet, freshly prepared food (a breakfast, lunch, dinner, and two snacks) on the doorstep of my projects apartment. When my fellow rent-controlled neighbors don’t steal the food and leave bed-bug stew in place of my Moroccan lamb curry, it’s pretty kickass!
Dan Bova
Executive Editor
Diet: NutropiaExecutive Editor
If the Grail Knight was standing next to me when I selected Nutropia as my fat-off diet plan, he would have rested a creepy hand on my shoulder and whispered, “You have chosen...wisely.” Then he’d give me a peck on the cheek and we’d decide to get a summer share together out in the Hamptons and...oh, sorry, where was I? That’s right, the Nutropia diet system. In two words, it rocks. Every night around 3 A.M. the Nutropia fairy comes to my house and drops off a cooler filled with freshly prepared food right outside my door. I get breakfast, a snack, lunch, another snack and dinner. I have to admit I had my doubts about the taste, what with Nutropia never using additives, preservatives or refined sugars, but the food is actually really good. The folks at Nutropia call you and design a menu to fit your needs (unless your needs are bacon-wrapped bear fat) then every week you go online and choose your grub from a pretty huge menu selection. The only problem I’ve had is the time a raccoon noticed the cooler on my steps and decided to sample my eats in the middle of the night. I’ve since had my stoop electrified. Oh, guess I should have told the Nutropia delivery guy about that.
David Swanson
Features Editor
Diet: NutriSystemFeatures Editor
Upon receiving an enormous box in the mail last week, I couldn't help but be excited. What could it be? A new stereo? Three cases of bourbon? A mail-order pygmy manservant? But my hopes were quickly dashed. Inside was more dehydrated, freeze-dried, vacuum-sealed comestibles than I ever wanted to see in one place. My hobbit-like colleague Dan Bova dubbed it my "big box of depression": one month's worth of NutriSystem, the same program favored by obese NFL head coaches and the obese announcers who analyze them (I'm looking at you Boomer). Each portion was about a third of what I would normally eat for a meal, and the choices left something to be desired. A week into the diet, however, and I'm so fucking famished by the time I eat that even the most pathetic options taste delicious. Not that they're equal: the pasta dishes reign supreme in a Chef Boyardee kind of way, while the mac & cheese was more like soup. Today's lunch was pot roast with gravy and vegetables. It was an abomination, like something they served in coach in 1975. Still, I ate it all, slurping up every last drop of gravy with a spoon. I have to admit, the diet's growing on me at the same rate that my waist is shrinking on me. And that ain't bad.
Patrick Carone
Senior Editor
Diet: Nothing!I’m the only “loser” who isn’t on a specified meal plan. I figured I’d be better off controlling my own diet than having to eat freeze-dried seitan dropped off at my front door once a week. That being the case, this week I took inspiration from one of my heroes, Subway’s Jared. I was lucky enough to meet him a couple years back (see how comfortable and not-gay we look together?), and he taught me that kinda mediocre sandwiches actually <can> be sorta good for you. Thanks, buddy!
Mike Dawson
Senior Associate Editor
Diet: eDiets Greeting from St. Maarten, suckers. For my shed and shred plan, I went with eDiets, an awesome meal delivery service. They have great tasting food like turkey chili, blackened chicken and flatbead pizza. Unfortunately, I couldn't haul that stuff down here this week so I've had to go local. Still, I am dieting and by dieting I mean stuffing my fat cheeks with French baguettes, fried conch sandwiches and rum shots with Presidente beer chasers. Kisses.
Jesse Brukman
Assistant Editor
Diet: nuKitchenAs the planner of the competition, I assigned myself nothing but the best and most expensive in meal delivery. Every singly night, the nuKitchen ninja deposits his fresh, steamy bag of gourmet, freshly prepared food (a breakfast, lunch, dinner, and two snacks) on the doorstep of my projects apartment. When my fellow rent-controlled neighbors don’t steal the food and leave bed-bug stew in place of my Moroccan lamb curry, it’s pretty kickass!